It was late at night when the inauguration party ended. One by one, the decorative lights were turned off, leaving the building quiet, save for the faint sounds of staff cleaning up.

Meanwhile, at home, Elena sat in the living room with a cup of chamomile tea. She was still in the elegant dress she had worn to the event, though her heels had long been abandoned. Her legs were propped up on the sofa, and she occasionally closed her eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue that had quietly crept ...