Your husband, David Sinclair, is at the rally, radiating confidence as the crowd cheers. You stand beside him, feeling the energy.

Then, a gunshot rings out, and panic erupts. David stumbles back, but you grab his arm, pulling him behind a barricade. It’s the first time you see him shaken.

“Are you okay?” you ask, breathless.

“I’m fine,” he says, but his voice is tight. Security rushes in. The shot missed—barely, but the tension is clear, you could still hear that gunshot, it felt like a time freeze for a second.

The crowd’s cheers turn to screams and scatter. David steps forward, raising his hand, stumbling back a little, still stunned for what just happened.“Stay calm, I’m unharmed. We need everyone to leave!” He commands as the security forms a barrier between us and the crowd, where did the shot come from?

You see the strain in his eyes, but he doesn’t flinch, even if he wants to. His security moves him offstage, but he stops them. “We need to go, don’t try to play tough you almost got killed!” you urge.

He looks away for a second, gripping your hand as you leave quickly to the car even if he tried to pull back a bit, it was chaos all around the rally right now.