The weeks after Dr. Reed's meeting were the hardest I'd ever faced.
Not because of the fight itself—we were winning, and I knew it in my bones. But because the fight was taking everything from me. Every ounce of energy, every moment of peace, every quiet second I might have spent with my family. It was consuming me whole, and I didn't know how to stop it.
I was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-weary exhausted in a way I'd never experienced before. Even during the darkest days with Kai, even during the battles with Cavendish, I'd never felt this drained. This hollow.
The twins were growing, their kicks stronger every day, but I barely had time to rest. I was constantly on the phone, constantly in meetings, constantly fighting. The foundation needed me. The coalition needed me. The survivors needed me. There was always another call to make, another document to review, another crisis to manage.
And my family needed me too.
