The days were blurring. They both got back to work harder than ever. Kamala was getting ready for, giving the office away. Ensuring the peaceful transfer of power. Her security was working harder than ever. Making sure that she could finish her vice presidency in peace. There are multiple threats to her life, but nothing serious so far.
Kamala texted her daughter,'How about a mother-daughter press conference?' In the next message, 'i don't want to go there alone'.
The text came as a surprise, but it made Lizzy smile nonetheless.
'Of course,' she texted back, her fingers flying over the screen. 'When and where?'
Kamala smiled. It had always been like this. One text and her daughter pushed everything aside, just to be with her, help her. Through anything, she put her own life aside for her.
'There is a press conference in the Congress' she texted, her fingers moving quickly.
'Tomorrow evening' she added, her mind already thinking about the event.
'The security is going to be tight, I can have people pick you up.'
'I'll be there' kiss emoji
A small smile graced Kamala's face as she read the text.
'I'll be waiting for you'
She put her phone down, her mind now focused on the press conference the next day.
Kamala put on a warm bath for herself. She took off her clothes and got in.
She relaxed, her tired body sinking into the warm water. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
The water soothed her tense muscles and eased the headache she was feeling. For a few blissful moments, she forgot about her duties and responsibilities and just enjoyed the peace and quiet.
The water cancelled down the blowout she had done in the morning, her hair curling naturally.
She let her hair fall loose around her shoulders, revelling in the familiar feeling of her natural curls.
The scent of her favourite bath salts filled her nose, making her feel cozy and relaxed.
When she finally got out, the water was cold.
She stepped out of the bath, her skin pruning from the cool water. Wrapping a towel around herself, she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes were tired, the weight of her duties evident in her features.
It was a long time since she had just stopped to look at herself. She thought she looked half dead. Skinnier than ever before, dark circles around her eyes.
She stared at her own reflection, hardly recognizing herself. Her face was gaunt, her eyes tired. She knew she hadn't been taking care of herself lately, too busy with work and responsibilities.
The thought that her daughter would see her like this tomorrow weighed on her mind.
She could hide everything from the public, but her daughter, it was different. One look, one move, she will see how bad it was.
She didn't bother putting clothes on. She just laid on the bed in a towel, and she was exhausted. Not only physically but mentally.
She closed her eyes, her mind racing. She was exhausted, her body and mind demanding rest, but she couldn't shut her worries off.
She knew her daughter would see right through her that she couldn't hide her state from her. The girl knew her too well, and the thought of her seeing her like this made Kamala feel vulnerable and exposed.
She fell asleep, only in a towel, not even covered by sheets.
She slept restlessly, tossing and turning. The towel twisted around her body, providing little cover and even less comfort. Her mind was still running, thoughts and worries flooding her consciousness.
The room was cold, but she didn't notice. The exhaustion was too strong, and she was too deep in her own thoughts to pay attention to the temperature.
She didn't pick up the phone when her daughter called. They talked every day at 10 pm, but she wasn't able to pick up to move.
The phone rang and rang, but she didn't answer. The sound of the ringtone pierced through the silence of the room, but she couldn't bring herself to move.
Her body was too heavy, her mind too tired to even reach for the phone.
Girl didn't give up, but after a few calls, she stopped. Kamala didn't know that she had just gotten into the car.
She was half-asleep, her consciousness flickering in and out. The phone had stopped ringing, but she couldn't tell if it was a minute ago or ten.
She was vaguely aware of the door opening, but her mind was too fogged with exhaustion to react.
"Mummy.." There was fear in her eyes
The sound of her daughter's voice jolted her awake. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry.
"Liz?" her voice was hoarse, her throat dry.
She forced herself to sit up, her body protesting at every movement.
"Mum, why aren't you picking up the damn phone?"
She flinched at the tone of her daughter's voice.
"I'm sorry," she croaked, her voice still raspy.
"I- I didn't hear it," she lied, as guilt churned in her stomach.
"What's going on?" She sat next to her on the bed
She avoided her daughter's gaze, her eyes lowering to her lap.
"Nothing," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm just tired," she added, her fingers twisting unconsciously in the sheet.
"Don't lie to me, mamma. You look half dead, you didn't pick up the phone, and I know damn well you heard it and you are not dressed, shivering." She pulled her sweat shirt off of her and put it on her mother
As the sweatshirt slipped over her head, the warmth and familiarity of her daughter's clothes enveloped her. She almost sighed at the feeling, the comfort of her daughter's presence washing over her.
"I just -" her voice cracked, as her eyes welled up with tears.
"It's been hard," she finally admitted, her words barely above a whisper.
She pulled her sweatpants off of her and put it on her mother. She knew Kamala didn't have clothes like this, and these were warm and comfortable. She found herself leggings instead.
She sat there, clothed in her daughter's clothes, the sweatpants and hoodie swallowing her smaller frame.
She felt like a child again, safe and protected in her daughter's embrace.
Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of exhaustion, guilt, and gratitude flooding her.
"Kammy..." she cuped her face, forcing her to look her in the eyes.
She looked up, her eyes locking onto her daughter's. The girl's gaze was steady, her hands warm on her face.
A wave of emotion crashed over her, and she could feel the tears falling faster.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."
"For what mummy? For what?"
"For-" her voice broke as another wave of guilt washed over her
"For not taking care of myself. For worrying you. For not being strong enough." she said, her words coming out in between sobs.
"For everything," she added quietly, her head dropping in shame.
"Mum..." she cuddled her mother to her body on the bed, humming quietly a melody.
She buried her face in her daughter's neck, the familiar scent of her skin grounding her.
The girl's humming was soothing, the melody calming her down. She clung to her tightly, as if she was afraid to let go.
She snuggled closer to her daughter, the comfort of her presence lulling her into a peaceful sleep.
For the first time in weeks, she slept without tossing and turning or waking up in the middle of the night. She was safe and warm in her daughter's embrace.