Chapter 1: Bugles and Beginnings

The day I died, the bugles played for me on the Arlington hills. The day I woke up again, I was sixteen, sweat sticking my hair to my neck, the old window AC rattling above my head. At that moment, I realized Rachel Shaw and I were given a second chance at life at the exact same moment.

The first time around, I was his most cherished companion—his beloved, the one he kept closest—even with the world watching—inside the White House.

After my death, I was laid to rest beside him in Arlington, in the presidential mausoleum, shaded by old oaks and the hush of history. I remember the quiet dignity of that place, the way military bugles echoed across the rolling hills as they lowered me next to him.

But this time, after waiting three years for the official engagement list, the name that appeared was my younger sister’s.

Only then did I realize: in this life, he chose to stay away from me.

Later, I followed my dad’s wishes and got engaged. I could feel the old ache in my chest, but I forced myself to nod when Dad put a steadying hand on my shoulder, his voice rough with concern.

After the annual winter gala, Young Captain Carter came to escort me, gently lifting me into his pickup so we could ride together. The air outside stung with January cold as I caught my breath, his hand steady on my waist, the battered Ford rumbling at the curb, windows slightly fogged from the warmth inside.

Behind us, the always composed and proud President quietly clenched his fist. No words, just the tight set of his jaw and the tremor in his knuckles—a flash of raw emotion before the mask of command returned.