Celestina stood at the podium in the grand press room, the cameras flashing relentlessly as journalists shouted over one another to ask their questions. She wore a pale blue blazer that fit snugly over her growing stomach, a symbol of both vulnerability and strength. She had prepared answers, but the barrage of inquiries was becoming overwhelming.
“Madam President,” a sharp voice cut through the chaos, belonging to a young journalist near the front, “many believe you’ve been prioritizing your personal safety over the nation’s recovery. Your increased security measures and recent absences from public events suggest a lack of commitment. What do you say to the people who feel abandoned?”
The room fell silent, all eyes on Celestina.
Her grip on the podium tightened. She could feel the heat rising to her face, her composure threatening to crack. “You want to question my priorities?” she said, her voice steady but edged with anger.
The journalist didn’t back down. “With all due respect, Madam President, the people want to know if you’re still focused on leading them or if you’re too consumed by—”
“Consumed?” Celestina snapped, cutting him off. Her voice rose, laced with fury. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to carry the weight of an entire nation while carrying a child? To face death threats every single day? Maybe you should walk a day in my shoes before you point fingers!”
The room erupted in murmurs as her outburst echoed through the hall. Celestina’s chest heaved, and she could feel her advisors’ eyes on her, silently pleading for her to regain control.
“I have sacrificed more than you can imagine,” she continued, her voice trembling. “And I will continue to do so because I believe in this nation. But if anyone here doubts my commitment, then you’re blind to the reality of what’s happening outside these walls.”
Without waiting for another question, Celestina turned and left the podium, the murmurs of the press following her as she strode out of the room.
That evening, Celestina locked herself in her office, shutting out the world. Her hands trembled as she poured herself a glass of water, but the tears came before she could take a sip.
She sank into the chair by the window, her head in her hands as the day’s events replayed in her mind. The accusation at the press conference had hit a nerve, one she hadn’t even realized was so raw.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t be everything they need.”
Her hand moved to her stomach, and she closed her eyes. “But I have to. For you.”
She leaned back in the chair, cradling her growing belly as tears streamed down her face. “I’m doing this for you,” she whispered. “You’ll have a better world than I did. I promise.”
The next morning, letters poured into the palace, stacks of them delivered to Celestina’s office. Some were messages of support, praising her courage and leadership. Others were scathing, accusing her of neglecting the people’s needs or of being too weak to handle the role.
Outside the palace, the crowd of protesters and supporters grew larger. Some waved signs thanking her for her efforts, while others held banners demanding immediate solutions to the nation’s problems.
Celestina stood at her window, watching the crowd. The weight of their demands pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. “How am I supposed to do all this?” she murmured to herself.
A knock on her office door broke her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, expecting one of her advisors.
The door opened, and to her surprise, Liora stepped inside. She looked tired but determined, her sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on Celestina.
“Liora,” Celestina said, her voice cautious. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about the press conference,” Liora said, closing the door behind her. “And the chaos outside. You need help managing this. I can help.”
Celestina raised an eyebrow. “You’re volunteering to help me? After everything?”
Liora shrugged. “You know me, Celestina. I’m not here to hold grudges. I’m here because I believe in what you’re trying to do. And let’s be honest—you could use someone like me.”
Celestina hesitated, studying Liora’s expression. “You’re not exactly the most trustworthy person, Liora.”
“Maybe not,” Liora admitted. “But I’m loyal to this nation. And right now, you’re its best chance.”
After a long pause, Celestina sighed. “Fine. But if I find out you’re playing both sides again…”
“You won’t,” Liora interrupted, a faint smirk on her lips. “I’m all in this time.”
That night, as Celestina lay in bed, her mind raced with thoughts of the press conference, the letters, the protests, and Liora’s return. Sleep felt like an impossible luxury.
A sudden knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?” she called, sitting up.
“Security, Madam President,” came the muffled reply.
She opened the door to find her chief of security, his expression tense.
“We received reports of an unidentified figure near your quarters,” he said. “It turned out to be one of the guards on patrol, but we’re investigating further.”
Celestina nodded, her heart still racing. “Thank you. Let me know if you find anything else.”
As the guard left, she closed the door and leaned against it, her pulse pounding. The thought of someone sneaking so close to her quarters made her stomach twist.