The uncomfortably pregnant teenager adjusted the infant sleeping in her arms; his soft hair was damp with sweat where it met with her chest. His deep, steady breathing calmed her, and she closed her eyes and focused on the sweet rhythm as the plane brought them closer to their destination.

The balding man watched her intently, perhaps reminiscing about a simpler time when his children slumbered on his own lap. With a sigh, he shifted his attention to the beautifully manicured fingertips resting on the armrest between him and the frail blonde. Sadness hung between them nowadays, manifesting itself in an inability to maintain eye contact when cameras were not aimed in their direction.

He recalled how it had been once with her, the lure of the forbidden. His biography, her wealth and community standing; the world had been their oyster, powerful salons their playground. He had easily distanced himself from the awkward woman he was married to, who no longer fit in with people like them. Once free he quickly joined the one who seemed to have been handed to him by destiny. It had begun.

And years later, fate laughed last as his past cruelties swung completely ‘round the pole and knocked him to his knees in front of the same nation he once felt predestined to command. When the post-mortem was written, what would history say was the turning point? Would they point to one major error in judgment, or highlight several minor detours that ended them all up on the wrong road with no u-turns in sight and no time left on the clock.

The ‘major error’ was not in view, but he could still smell her back there with her husband. What a waste of a female talent; that man would never realize how outclassed he was, and didn’t possess the capacity to understand if he could. That woman. Yet another woman. The kind of woman men like him understood and appreciated. Polished, perfumed, well-kept, a hint of sex, a little too much gloss on her lips, drawn to, and unable to resist power. Women who appreciated a forceful male presence to guide them. Such a bold choice. That was so like him, how could people not understand that? How could he make them understand? How he had again risked the scorn of those around him as he gambled on charm, social ease, and long legs that called to him, promising greatness. How had things gone so wrong.

Eleven. Days. Left…