#59
"Nosso amor é coringa, eu quero tua ginga pra te conquistar. Se me vê indo embora, me agarra lá fora, eu posso ficar." J?o
With my hand gripping the cold marble railing of the Capitol, I descended the stairs.
Donald was waiting at the bottom, his blond hair catching the light as he glanced up from his phone.
The moment he saw me, he pocketed the device and extended his hand—the perfect image of the supportive, devoted husband.
Today marked exactly eighteen months since our wedding.
But the calendar of our marriage and the calendar of my heart followed two different timelines.
It hadn't been eighteen months since I’d felt Kelsey’s touch; instead, our history had been written in the stolen minutes of event bathrooms, the shadowed backseats of parking lots, and the quiet corners of museums. Random encounters that were anything but random.
Being away from her was a slow ache; being close to her was, at times, a beautiful torture.
I sat before the full Senate, the weight of the Supreme Court confirmation hearing settling on my shoulders.
My opening statement had been surgical, brief, poised, and focused on my suitability and my decades of service to the republic.
I had twenty minutes to define myself before they began to tear me apart.
I was prepared for the four-day gauntlet. I had conditioned my body at the gym to withstand the physical toll of standing under those lights, and I had rehearsed every possible line of questioning until the answers were part of my DNA.
Kelsey had spoiled me from the shadows. She was the silent engine behind my endurance, sending gourmet snacks when Vanessa and I pulled all-nighters, flowers when my spirit wavered, and even a private chef on the nights the rest of the team was too busy rehearsing speeches to eat.
My heart ached with a relentless longing, but I knew the distance was our only armor. Still, her presence in the gallery was impossible to ignore. I didn't need to look up to know she was there; I could feel her gaze like a physical warmth against my back.
The first day was a clinical dissection of my career. But by the second day, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thin, charged with a new level of hostility.
My suit was perfectly tailored, but it was my focus, sharp and unwavering, that truly held me up as a senior senator took the floor.
"Senator, I recognize the magnitude of the fiscal concerns that accompany a single-payer framework," I began, my voice steady despite the dry burn in my throat.
"However, we must weigh the importance of our citizens' health as a fundamental pillar of our progress.
To move forward as the historic nation we are, we must acknowledge that public healthcare is a catalyst for quality of life.
We see the dividends of this in the United Kingdom and Canada; it is an anomaly that a system as advanced as ours remains so tethered to privatization. "
I paused, watching the room. A wave of nods rippled through the gallery. I had followed the party line, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Donald’s grin, wide and triumphant. We had agreed he would remain silent for ethical reasons, but his presence was a constant, stabilizing force.
By the end of the third day, my voice was a ghost of itself.
The fourteen-hour sessions had stripped me bare.
To celebrate our survival, Donald pulled into a late-night drive-thru, ordering me a burger, a mountain of fries, and a large Pink Lemonade.
It was our quiet ritual, greasy comfort to silence the political noise.
We reached the penthouse in a state of total collapse, but the adrenaline for the final day was already beginning to hum beneath the surface.
For the grand finale, I chose a midnight-blue suit with sharp white stitching. As I took my seat for the last time, the room felt different. I knew she was there, just like every other day, but this time I didn't fight the pull.
My focus gravitated toward Kelsey like a magnet, her presence in the gallery the only light that mattered in a room full of shadows.