Kamala stirred slowly, the haze of the medication still lingering behind her eyes. Her body ached in the dull, heavy way that followed a night of real pain—less sharp now, but still echoing in her back and shoulders. She blinked up at the ceiling of Lizzy’s childhood room, the familiar glow-in-the-dark stars still faintly visible in the daylight. The soft stuffed animal Lizzy had loved for years was cradled loosely in her arm.
And then it hit her.
“Shit,” she whispered, sitting up too fast and immediately regretting it as the room tilted. Her heart sank. “Lizzy…”
She rubbed her eyes, panic and guilt rising together in her chest.
She had missed it.
The first day of law school.
She was supposed to make Lizzy’s favorite dinner. Roast vegetables, Kamala-style mac and cheese—extra sharp cheddar the way Lizzy liked—and that ridiculous, time-consuming coconut cake she had only ever made for the biggest milestones.
But instead of celebrating her daughter’s first day of chasing her dream, Kamala had spent the night curled in pain, drugged up and clinging to a stuffed bear like a ghost of her former self. Lizzy had been there, of course. Because Lizzy was always there.
But now—now she was probably gone. Back to her apartment. Back to reality.
Kamala reached for her phone with shaky fingers. Her chest felt tight. What kind of mother misses this? she thought bitterly.
No new messages from Lizzy.
She stared at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip. Lizzy had probably tiptoed out quietly, not wanting to wake her, not wanting to make her feel worse. Maybe she had even taken the train back downtown, alone. On the day she should have been welcomed home with flowers and cake and celebration.
Kamala swiped to her text app and hovered over Lizzy’s name.
“Did you get back okay?” she typed.
But she didn’t hit send.
Instead, she let the phone drop into her lap and leaned her head back against the wall, eyes glassy with exhaustion and guilt.
This was supposed to be her job—to lift her daughter up, to be the one fussing over first-day nerves and asking how her classes went. But once again, Lizzy had been the caretaker. The steady one. The woman she raised to be stronger than the world had been to either of them. After quickly getting dressed and grabbing car keys she was already on her way.
Kamala closed her eyes, heart aching in a different way now. Not just from the tension in her muscles—but from missing a moment she could never quite get back.
Kamala tapped her phone’s speaker button, holding it in her lap as she drove through the soft mid-afternoon light. The roads were familiar—too familiar. She’d driven this exact route so many times over the years: first to pick Lizzy up from school, then from sleepovers, then from heartbreaks she didn’t want to talk about. And now…
The phone rang once.
Twice.
“Hey, Mama,” Lizzy’s voice finally answered, a little surprised, a little warm. “Are you okay?”
Kamala sighed through a tight throat, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Are you at your apartment?”
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” Lizzy said slowly, cautious now. “I just got back a little while ago. Why?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Mama—what? You don’t have to—”
“I know,” Kamala cut in, a little too quickly. Her voice softened. “But I want to. I—I missed it, Lizzy. I missed your first day and I know I said I’d cook and bake that ridiculous cake and have the table set and be annoying and proud and ask a million questions you didn’t want to answer, and I didn’t do any of that.”
“Mama…”
“I’m in the car,” Kamala said again, as if that was some kind of absolution. “I’m already halfway there.”
There was a long pause on the line.
Then, quietly: “There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge. I didn’t have cake either.”
Kamala smiled through the lump in her throat. “Well. That’s about to change.”
Lizzy let out a soft laugh, tired and affectionate. “You don’t have to make up for anything, you know. You being okay matters more than any cake.”
Kamala blinked hard at the road.
“I just want to be your mom again today.”
“You never stopped.”
“I still want to try,” Kamala whispered.
There was silence, then Lizzy’s voice, lighter: “Okay. Come over, but only if you let me tell you about my torts professor. He’s a disaster.”
Kamala exhaled a laugh. “Deal. And I brought groceries. And cake mix.”
“Of course you did,” Lizzy murmured, smiling. “See you soon, Mama.”
Kamala hung up, heart a little steadier now. She turned onto Lizzy’s street, watching the sun bend over the rooftops like it was folding her into a warm embrace.
Today, she could still show up.
As soon as Kamala knocked on the door, she heard a clatter inside—something metallic, maybe a pot lid, maybe someone tripping over a shoe. She barely had time to smile at the sound before the door swung open.
“Mummy—” Lizzy started, then stopped herself with an exasperated laugh. “You’re impossible.”
Kamala stood on the threshold, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a covered cake tin in the other. “You didn’t think I’d actually not show up, did you?”
Lizzy sighed, stepping aside. “Come in, you lunatic.”
Kamala swept past her like she owned the place, pressing a kiss to Lizzy’s cheek as she moved. “Missed your first day, not your whole life.”
From the kitchen, a loud and sudden gasp.
Noah.
He froze halfway between the sink and the counter, a half-stirred cup of tea in his hand, his eyes wide like a deer caught in high-powered presidential headlights. Kamala turned, locking eyes with him and offering a kind, if amused, smile.
Noah dropped the spoon into the cup with a sharp clink. “Oh my God.”
Kamala raised a brow. “Hi, Noah.”
“Ma’am. Madam Vice President. Kamala. I mean—Ms.—I mean—”
Lizzy closed her eyes like she was bracing for impact. “He’s short-circuiting. Please don’t tease him. Yet.”
Kamala laughed, slipping out of her coat and setting the cake tin down on the kitchen island. “Relax, Noah. I’m just here to feed my kid. And maybe interrogate you later. But mostly feed.”
Noah looked like he might actually keel over.
Lizzy patted him on the shoulder as he just stood there blinking. “She does this. Like a tornado with a law degree.”
Kamala smiled sweetly. “Flatter me more, darling.”
Noah stared helplessly between them. “I just wasn’t—prepared.”
Kamala turned to him, her voice warm. “You’ll learn, Noah. No one is ever really prepared for the full-force version of me.”
“And yet here she is,” Lizzy muttered with affection, already taking the grocery bags out of her mother’s hands. “Mummy, you're impossible.”
Kamala winked. “You love me for it.”
Lizzy sighed, shaking her head, but she was grinning. “God help us all.”
---
As Lizzy disappeared down the hallway with a casual, “Be right back,” Kamala found herself alone with Noah in the small, sunlit kitchen.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just new. He hovered near the counter, trying not to fidget, while she began unpacking the last few groceries, her movements a little too slow, a little too careful.
Noah watched her quietly. He wasn’t the most perceptive guy when it came to politics, but he had eyes—and a good heart. And he noticed.
The stiffness in her shoulders. The slight delay before she turned her head. The faint tension in her jaw when she moved too quickly.
Kamala Harris was in pain.
She was trying hard not to be, for Lizzy’s sake.
He didn’t say a word, not right away. He just moved to the cabinet above the stove, opened it gently, and pulled out a small bottle of Advil. He placed it on the counter in front of her without comment, then opened the fridge for a bottle of water and set that beside it.
Kamala looked down at the offering. Then up at him.
There was no pity in his expression—just quiet understanding.
Her lips parted like she was going to argue or deflect, but then she gave him a faint, grateful smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes. “You noticed.”
Noah nodded. “She's not the only one who reads people.”
Kamala gave a soft, dry laugh at that, one hand slowly reaching for the bottle. “Don’t tell Lizzy.”
“I won’t,” he said simply, stepping back. “But you should take them before dinner. She’ll ask questions if you go pale over soup.”
She smiled faintly as she took the pills, swallowing them quickly. “You’re a good one, Noah.”
Noah shrugged. “I’m trying.”
“Keep doing that,” Kamala murmured. “You’ll make her very happy.”
He smiled quietly. “That’s the plan.”
When Lizzy padded back into the kitchen, her eyes immediately flicked to the bottle of Advil on the counter, then to the water in Kamala’s hand. She tilted her head and leaned closer to her mother, lowering her voice just enough for only Kamala to hear.
“Did Noah give you that?”
Kamala gave her a small, sheepish smile and nodded.
Lizzy’s mouth curved into a satisfied smirk. “Good boy.”
Before Noah could fully process what was happening, Lizzy turned to him, wrapped her arms lightly around his neck, and kissed him softly on the lips.
Noah blinked, stunned for a second. “What was that for?”
Lizzy smiled like she knew exactly what kind of effect she had. “For noticing. And not saying anything dumb.”
Noah laughed nervously, glancing between her and Kamala, who was sipping water and pretending she wasn’t watching like a hawk.
“Okay,” he mumbled, clearly still trying to process her approval. “I’ll try to keep doing that.”
“Smart man,” Lizzy said, kissing him again—just a little slower this time—before turning back to help Kamala unpack the rest of the groceries.
---
Kamala hesitated, her hand hovering near her phone. She sat on one of the bar stools in Lizzy’s apartment kitchen, glancing toward her daughter, who was rinsing vegetables at the sink.
Lizzy didn’t look up. “Mum. Call Douglas. He’d want to be included.”
Kamala’s shoulders slumped a little, the guilt creeping in like a familiar tide. “I don’t know if he even wants to come,” she murmured.
Lizzy turned around, drying her hands on a towel, her eyes calm but steady. “He’s mad because he’s always left out. And honestly? He has every right to be. You’ve been… kind of horrible to him lately, Mum.”
Kamala flinched a little at the truth, looking down at her phone in her lap.
“You hide things. You shut him out. And yeah, I love you to pieces, but if he’s your person now—he deserves more than just the parts of you that are convenient.”
Kamala sighed, the words hitting hard. “I know.”
Lizzy softened, walking over to sit beside her. “You don’t have to be perfect. But you do have to try. Especially if you want him to stay.”
Kamala nodded slowly, finally unlocking her phone. “Okay. I’ll call.”
“Put it on speaker,” Lizzy added with a teasing smile. “I want to hear how awkward it gets.”
Kamala gave her a mock glare, but the smile tugged at her lips anyway as she tapped Douglas’s contact.
The phone rang twice before he picked up. “Kamala?”
There was tension in his voice—unresolved, raw.
“Hi,” Kamala said quietly. “Um… I’m at Lizzy’s. We’re making dinner. And… we want you to come. I want you to come.”
There was a pause. A long one.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, firmer now. “I want to fix things. And I don’t want to keep shutting you out. So… will you?”
Douglas let out a breath, one that sounded half like relief, half like frustration. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
Lizzy gave Kamala a subtle nod of approval. “See? Not that hard.”
Kamala exhaled, already anxious—but also a little hopeful. “Let’s just hope the food makes up for everything else.”
When Douglas arrived, the air in Lizzy’s apartment shifted. He didn’t knock, just let himself in with the spare key Kamala had given him months ago—back when things felt easy and unspoken trust lingered between them.
Kamala looked up from the kitchen island, wiping her hands on a towel. Lizzy glanced over from where she was stirring sauce on the stove, sensing the tension before a word was said.
“Hey,” Kamala offered softly.
Douglas didn’t smile. He didn’t kiss her hello. Just gave a clipped nod and walked past her into the kitchen. “Smells good,” he muttered to Lizzy.
“Thanks,” Lizzy said, keeping her voice neutral. She didn’t force cheerfulness, but she didn’t make it cold either. She just stirred the pot and watched as her mum wilted a little behind Douglas’s back.
Kamala’s eyes flicked to her daughter’s, hoping for guidance like she always did, but Douglas caught that.
He didn’t say anything, but the weight of it was heavy in the silence—how Kamala turned to Lizzy without even realizing it. How even in conflict, she looked to her daughter for reassurance first.
Not him.
He had every right to be pissed. He was always the one left standing outside the circle Kamala had drawn years ago—him on the outside, Lizzy always in.
He leaned against the counter and folded his arms, watching Kamala with unreadable eyes. “You didn’t say if you were feeling better.”
Kamala winced at the words. “I am. A bit. Thank you.”
But she said it too softly. Like an afterthought. Like she was used to someone else—Lizzy—checking in.
Lizzy let the sauce simmer and stepped back. She gave Douglas a pointed glance, then turned toward the dining table to start setting it. She wouldn’t interfere. Not yet.
Douglas stayed silent a moment longer, then said tightly, “I came. Like you asked. But if we’re going to keep doing this thing, Kamala, you need to stop expecting Lizzy to be the person in this relationship.”
Kamala’s chest constricted. She glanced at Lizzy—again—and immediately regretted it.
Douglas saw it. “See? That right there.”
Kamala’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m trying.”
Douglas didn’t move. Didn’t soften. “Try harder.”
The words didn’t come from cruelty—they came from exhaustion. From being left outside one too many times.
Kamala stood frozen by the kitchen island, the towel still in her hands. Douglas’s words hung in the air like fog—thick and hard to breathe through. She swallowed, her throat tight, and took a step toward him.
“You’re right,” she said quietly. Her voice wasn’t shaky, but it was soft, like someone tiptoeing into a conversation that could collapse at any second. “I do that. I turn to her. It’s been that way for a long time.”
Douglas looked at her, arms still folded, eyes guarded.
Kamala looked down at her hands. “She was twelve,” she said, half to him, half to the memory. “She figured out I get these stress migraines before I ever said a word. She just… started helping. Rubbing my back. Warming heating pads. Leaving ginger tea by the door.” She looked up, eyes glistening but steady. “And I let her. I let her take care of me. I never meant for her to become the only one who could.”
Lizzy stayed by the table, quiet, watching her mother finally name the thing that had hovered between them for years.
Kamala turned her full attention to Douglas then. “But you’re not her. And you shouldn’t have to be. I want you to feel like you’re in this with me—not competing with a bond that was built in survival.”
Douglas didn’t speak, but his stance softened slightly. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t boiling over anymore.
“I know I’ve been unfair,” Kamala continued. “I’ve expected you to read my mind, to see things that Lizzy just… always saw. And when you didn’t, I acted like that was your fault. But it’s not.”
She stepped closer. “You’re not wrong to be hurt. But I want to fix this. If you’ll let me.”
Douglas’s eyes searched hers. After a long moment, he sighed. “It’s not about Lizzy doing more,” he said. “It’s about you not trusting me to do enough.”
Kamala nodded slowly, her heart cracking a little at the truth in that.
Lizzy, gently, came over and handed them each a glass of water—silent support without inserting herself. Kamala gave her a grateful look, then turned back to Douglas.
“I trust you,” she said. “But I know I haven’t shown it.”
Douglas finally, finally reached out and took her hand. It wasn’t a full reconciliation—it was a beginning.
“Okay,” he said. “Then show me.”
Kamala squeezed his hand back. “Stay for dinner?”
“I’m already here,” he said, his voice a little lighter. “Lizzy is making food, I’m not walking away from that.”
Lizzy snorted softly, then kissed Kamala’s cheek. “Good first step, mummy,” she whispered. Then to Douglas, with a raised eyebrow: “Don’t blow it.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m trying.”
Douglas followed Lizzy into the bedroom reluctantly, arms crossed and face still a little tight. He leaned against the doorframe while she sat on the edge of the bed, calm but firm.
“Look,” she said, lacing her fingers in her lap. “I get it. You’re mad. You have every right to be. She keeps shutting you out, and I keep stepping in before you even have a chance.”
Douglas didn’t deny it. He just looked at her, waiting.
“I don’t know how to stop reading her,” Lizzy continued. “I’ve been doing it since I was twelve. It’s instinct now. I see the pain in her eyes before she even knows it’s there. I notice when her jaw’s tight or when her shoulders sit too high. I just… see it.”
Douglas sighed. “And I don’t.”
“Not yet,” Lizzy said simply. “But maybe you can.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“So here’s the deal,” she said. “I won’t stop seeing it—but I’ll tell you what I see. I’ll text you, or say something, or give you a look. You’ll know. And you’ll be the one to act on it. You’ll get to step in before she spirals. That way, it’s still you. Not me swooping in every time.”
Douglas stared at her for a long moment. “You’d really do that?”
Lizzy nodded. “She loves you. But she doesn’t know how to lean on people unless they make it impossible not to. I made it impossible. You’ll have to do the same. But maybe this way, I can help you get there without getting in the way.”
Douglas exhaled, some of the frustration bleeding out of his posture. “That’s… actually really generous.”
She shrugged. “It’s not about generosity. It’s about her. And I want her happy. Stable. Loved. Even if I have to coach you like a freaking sportscaster for a while.”
He cracked a small, reluctant smile.
“And maybe,” Lizzy added, standing up and crossing her arms playfully, “if you start noticing the signals on your own, I’ll even let you keep your place in her bed next time I show up.”
Douglas chuckled, shaking his head. “Deal.”
Lizzy stuck out her hand. “Partners?”
He took it. “Partners.”
From the hallway, they heard Kamala call softly, “Everything okay in there?”
Lizzy grinned. “Better now.”
Kamala was standing in the kitchen, carefully setting the table when she heard the soft footsteps approaching. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Douglas step into the room, his face a little more relaxed than it had been earlier. He walked toward her slowly, a slight tension in his step that suggested he was still holding onto some frustration—but it was easing.
Kamala didn’t have time to think much about it before his arms were around her, pulling her close. His lips found hers in a slow, lingering kiss that took Kamala by surprise. She melted into it, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the intensity of the emotions that had been simmering between them for too long.
It was a kiss that spoke of reconciliation, of everything they hadn’t said, of everything they needed to fix. Kamala’s hands found their way to his chest, a soft gesture of affection, a small part of her finally allowing herself to just feel it all.
Meanwhile, Lizzy, who had been focused on the table, was pretending she hadn’t noticed. She set the last plate down carefully, her eyes flicking toward Noah. The poor guy looked like he was trying to turn invisible, but Lizzy couldn’t help but smirk. She knew what was going on and wasn’t about to let herself get caught in the awkwardness.
Noah had already been through his own mini panic attack earlier when Kamala entered the room. He looked like he was about to burst into flames, and Lizzy knew it. His wide-eyed expression told her everything. It wasn’t just Kamala’s presence that was intimidating—it was the whole situation, the dynamics, and the sheer force of her mother.
As Lizzy continued to put finishing touches on the table, she threw Noah a look. He shrank further into the corner of the kitchen, his hands nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt.
“You’re fine,” Lizzy muttered under her breath, though her tone was playful, as if she were letting him off the hook. “Just act normal, Noah. They’re not going to eat you alive.”
He just gave her a helpless look, and Lizzy, for all her teasing, felt a small twinge of sympathy. He had no idea what he was walking into with her family.
Kamala broke the kiss first, her hands lingering on Douglas’s shoulders as she pulled back, taking in his face, the unspoken apology lingering in the air between them.
“We… we need to talk about everything later,” Kamala said softly, her voice thick with emotion.
Douglas nodded, his fingers brushing her cheek as he whispered, “We will.”
Lizzy cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow, finally turning to face them both with a slightly exaggerated, mock-disinterested look. “Well, if you two are done with the whole world-shattering kiss thing, dinner’s ready. Noah,” she added, turning toward him with a sly grin, “get over here. You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Noah looked between the two of them, still unsure of what exactly had happened, but Lizzy’s lighthearted tone managed to cut through his panic. He shuffled forward hesitantly, his eyes darting to Kamala and Douglas before sitting at the table.
Kamala chuckled softly, reaching for Douglas’s hand before guiding him to his seat. “Thanks for helping with everything, Lizzy.”
Lizzy just shrugged, playing it off with a grin. “It’s what I do.”
As they all settled in for dinner, there was a sense of quiet understanding. Kamala and Douglas exchanged a glance, one that spoke volumes about everything they still needed to work through. Lizzy, for her part, was pretending not to notice their moments of closeness, though her mind was whirring. She knew there was still a lot left unsaid, but for now, she was content to let the food and the company do the talking.
Noah, still visibly on edge, sat quietly, trying to follow along with the flow of conversation. As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Things weren’t perfect, but they were moving toward something better.
And as much as Lizzy wanted to pretend she didn’t notice the little exchanges between her mother and Douglas, she couldn’t ignore the fact that something had changed. They weren’t perfect—but maybe, just maybe, they were on the right path to getting there.
As the evening carried on, Kamala felt a subtle but consistent pressure on her thigh. Douglas’s hand rested there under the table, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of her pants as they continued eating. The simple act, though seemingly innocent, had a weight to it—one that spoke volumes in the quiet moments between bites. Kamala wasn’t sure if it was his attempt to reassure her or just a silent plea for her attention, but she could feel the warmth of his touch, and it was grounding, even if it stirred up an unspoken tension between them.
Lizzy, from across the table, had noticed the growing closeness between her mother and Douglas. It was hard to miss the subtle glances they exchanged, the way their body language shifted as they navigated the delicate waters of their relationship. Lizzy didn’t say anything—she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts and Noah’s nervous energy, but she had one goal in mind for the evening.
Once dinner was over, Lizzy quietly excused herself and sent Douglas a quick text. The screen lit up with the words: Following our agreement, I’m saying you should take her home. If she gets too tired, the migraine will come back.
Douglas read the message in silence. He sat there for a moment, his hand still on Kamala’s thigh, unsure of how to proceed. Lizzy was right, of course. Kamala had been pushing herself too hard for days, and he had noticed the way she was starting to tire as the night went on. He could see it in her eyes, in the slight way she winced when she moved.
He took a deep breath, his mind momentarily torn between his own desires and the responsibility that Lizzy had laid out for him. With Kamala’s migraine lingering in the background, he knew Lizzy was right. He couldn’t risk her pushing through it. Not after everything.
Kamala noticed the change in his demeanor when he looked at her after reading the text. She blinked, slightly confused by the shift in the atmosphere. She had felt his hand on her thigh all throughout dinner, but now, his attention seemed to be elsewhere. She felt a flicker of concern as she tried to meet his gaze.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly, her voice a mix of curiosity and a touch of anxiety.
Douglas hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to express his concern without overstepping. He knew he had every right to worry, but the boundaries of their relationship still felt fragile.
“Lizzy’s right,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. I think it’s time we get you home before that migraine comes back.”
Kamala frowned, a trace of defiance lingering in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she started, but even as she said it, she could feel the pull of the pain starting to creep back at the edges of her consciousness. Her body was betraying her—she knew she wasn’t fine.
Douglas didn’t push her any further. He simply stood up and gently placed his hand on her back, guiding her up from the table. “Let’s get you home,” he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “You can rest there. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
Lizzy, who had been watching the exchange from the other side of the room, raised an eyebrow when she saw the shift in Douglas’s tone. She wasn’t surprised—she knew this was coming—but part of her felt a sense of satisfaction. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to understand how to take care of her mother.
Kamala, already standing up, looked over at Lizzy, who was giving her an almost knowing look. Kamala sighed, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
“You really do know me too well,” she said, her voice laced with both humor and gratitude. Lizzy simply nodded, her expression unreadable for a moment before her lips curled up in a brief, reassuring smile.
“You’re lucky I care so much,” Lizzy teased, but her tone softened as she added, “Just take care of yourself, Mom.”
Kamala nodded, grateful for the care her daughter always showed her, even in the most subtle ways.
As Kamala and Douglas made their way out of the apartment, Lizzy remained behind with Noah, who was still trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. Lizzy shot him a look, half amused, half exasperated.
“You’re going to be okay, right?” she asked, though the question was more rhetorical than anything.
Noah just nodded, trying to act normal. “Yeah, sure.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she turned back to the door. Kamala and Douglas were already gone, leaving the two of them in the apartment alone. For now, everything felt as it should be—fragile, but real.
And maybe, just maybe, things were starting to find their balance.