The first thing I felt that morning wasn't the weight of the election or the stress of the campaign. It was warmthâDoug's arm draped over my waist, his steady breath against my shoulder. For the first time in what felt like weeks, I had slept through the night without waking up to check my phone, without my mind running through speeches and poll numbers.
I turned slightly, careful not to wake him, and just watched him for a moment. The campaign had taken so much of my time, and yet he had never once complained. Never once made me feel like I wasn't present enough. Instead, he was always thereâwaiting for me at the end of every long day, reminding me that I wasn't doing this alone.
I exhaled softly, tracing my fingers over the back of his hand. I wasn't sure how long I lay there like that, just soaking in the rare quiet, before he stirred.
"Mmm," he mumbled sleepily, pulling me closer. "Five more minutes."
I smiled. "We both know I have a full schedule."
His grip tightened. "I don't care. You're staying right here."
I laughed softly, resting my forehead against his. "You know that's not happening."
He groaned, finally opening his eyes. They were still heavy with sleep, but they softened the moment they met mine. "You have the entire country on your shoulders," he said, voice still raspy. "Can't you let your husband be selfish for just a little bit?"
I reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You're never selfish. If anything, I wish I had more time to be selfish with you."
He smiled, running his hand gently up and down my back. "I knew what I was signing up for when I married you, Kamala. I just miss you, that's all."
I sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. "I miss you too."
Somehow, I managed to steal an extra ten minutes in bed before duty called. But even as I got readyâgoing through the motions of brushing my teeth, tying my hair back, slipping into my blazerâDoug stayed close, leaning against the bathroom doorway, watching me.
"What?" I asked, smiling at him through the mirror.
"Just appreciating my wife," he said simply.
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You're sweet in the mornings."
"I'm always sweet."
I chuckled, grabbing my watch from the dresser. "You're also very biased."
He stepped forward, looping his arms around my waist from behind. "Not biased. Just in love."
I turned in his arms, cupping his face. "You know how much I love you, right?"
His expression softened. "Yeah. But I never mind hearing it."
I kissed him, slow and deliberate, trying to pour everything I didn't always have time to say into that moment.
When we pulled away, he sighed. "I wish you didn't have to go."
"I know." I smoothed out his shirt. "But I'll be home tonight."
"Promise?"
I smiled. "Promise."
We didn't get to sit down for breakfast together often anymore, but this morning, Doug made sure we did. He had already brewed the coffee, set out some fruit and toast, and was waiting for me when I walked into the kitchen.
As I sat down, he slid a cup of coffee in front of meâmade just the way I liked it.
"You're spoiling me," I teased, taking a sip.
"You deserve it." He leaned back in his chair, watching me for a moment before asking, "How are you really feeling, Kamala?"
I sighed, stirring my coffee absentmindedly. "Tired. Focused. Determined. All at once."
He nodded, giving me the space to continue.
"I know we're doing everything right," I said, choosing my words carefully. "The rallies, the policies, the messagingâit's all lining up. But some days, it feels like I'm running uphill with no end in sight."
Doug reached across the table, taking my hand in his. "You've been fighting for this your entire life. And I know that when you believe in something, you don't stop. That's why you're going to win, Kamala."
His confidence in me never wavered. Even in my most exhausted moments, when self-doubt crept in, Doug never let me lose sight of why I was doing this.
I squeezed his hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
He smirked. "Probably forget to eat breakfast."
I laughed. "That's fair."
As I grabbed my coat and bag, Doug followed me to the door. He reached for my hand one last time before I left, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
"Be safe today," he said softly.
I nodded. "Always."
"And rememberâyou're not carrying all of this alone."
I exhaled, feeling the truth of his words settle into me. "I know."
He kissed my forehead, lingering for just a second longer than usual. "Go make history."
I smiled, stepping out the door, already feeling the weight of the day ahead.
But no matter how heavy it got, I knew I had a home to come back to.
And that made all the difference.
By the time I made it through the early meetings and briefings, the sun was high in the sky, and my phone had barely stopped buzzing. Campaign strategy calls, policy discussions, event planningâall of it happening at once. Some days, it felt like I was standing in the middle of a hurricane, trying to direct the wind.
But even amid the chaos, there was always Doug.
At around 1:30 PM, in between back-to-back calls, I finally got a moment to breathe. My team was in the process of finalizing details for a major rally later in the week, and I had just wrapped up a briefing with key campaign advisors. As I reached for my water, my phone vibrated on the table.
Doug.
I smiled, answering immediately. "Hi, love."
"Hey, Madam Future President," he teased, his voice warm. "I'm guessing you're buried under a mountain of work?"
"You'd be guessing right," I said, leaning back in my chair. "But I'm surviving."
"Surviving isn't good enough. Have you eaten?"
I glanced at my untouched salad from earlier and sighed. "Define 'eaten.'"
Doug groaned. "Kamala."
"I had coffee."
"That doesn't count." I could hear the familiar mix of concern and affection in his voice. "You need actual food, not just caffeine."
I closed my eyes for a second, letting the sound of his voice be a moment of peace. "I know, I know. I'll eat something soon, I promise."
"I'm holding you to that," he said firmly. "Because I need my wife strong and energized, not running on fumes."
His words hit me in a way I wasn't expecting. He always worried about me, always made sure I was taking care of myself when I was too busy taking care of everyone else.
"I love you," I said softly.
"I love you too," he replied. "And I'm proud of you. Just... don't forget to be human in the middle of all this, okay?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Okay."
"Good. Now go eat something before I come down there myself."
I laughed. "Yes, sir."
By the time evening rolled around, I was drained. Meetings, calls, interviewsâit had been a nonstop day. But despite the exhaustion, I felt steady. Grounded. Because I knew I had something waiting for me beyond all of this.
As I walked into our home, I was met with the sound of jazz playing softly in the background and the warm scent of something delicious coming from the kitchen. I followed it, only to find Doug standing at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta.
"You're cooking?" I asked, amused.
He turned, flashing me that charming smile of his. "You didn't eat a real meal earlier, so I'm taking matters into my own hands."
I grinned, walking over and wrapping my arms around him from behind. "You're the best."
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I know."
As he finished plating the food, we sat down at the table togetherâno phones, no distractions, just us. It was a rare thing these days, and I cherished every second of it.
We talked about everything and nothing at all. About the campaign, about the latest political attacks, about how ridiculous it was that we hadn't had a quiet night together in weeks. But mostly, we talked about us.
Doug reached for my hand across the table, his thumb tracing slow circles over my skin. "I know this campaign is bigger than anything we've ever done," he said. "And I know you're carrying so much. But I need you to remember that I'm carrying it with you."
I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt my heart swell. "I do remember. Every single day."
He smiled, squeezing my hand. "Good."
Later that night, as we settled into bed, Doug pulled me into his arms, holding me close. "You're doing something incredible, Kamala," he murmured. "But don't let the world take all of you. Save a little for yourself. For us."
I buried my face in his chest, letting out a deep breath. "I will."
And in that moment, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, I believed it.