Ethan wasn’t home.

David had told him he could go to a friend’s house to watch the results come in. It was better than having him sulk in his room, better than letting him stew in the frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface all year. His son wasn’t much for politics—not yet—but even he could see that Kansas was changing.

Ethan had thrown himself into basketball over the past year, training harder than ever, using it as an outlet. But tonight, no amount of time on the court would be a distraction from what was happening.

The polls had closed less than an hour ago, and already the results were pouring in.

Rachel sat stiffly on the couch, her foot bouncing anxiously, her arms crossed. The television screen bathed the dimly lit living room in cold blue light, the news anchors speaking in the clipped, rehearsed tones of people who already knew the ending to the story they were telling.

David sat next to her, nursing a beer. He wasn’t even sure why he was watching—he already knew what was coming.

One Republican win after another.

Another deep-red wave.

The governor’s race had been the last hope for any check on the Kansas Legislature, but it was already slipping away.

Rachel’s lips parted slightly as the newscaster read off the latest numbers.

“Republican candidate Mike Thompson maintains a decisive lead over Democratic nominee David Toland, with 85% of precincts reporting. If current trends hold, he will secure victory by a margin of approximately 14 points—the largest since Sam Brownback stormed into Topeka in 2010.”

The air in the room felt heavy.

David wasn’t surprised. This was Kansas, after all. The legislature had spent the past two years making sure the next election would be even more slanted in their favor. The early ballot restrictions from SB 4 had disenfranchised thousands of voters. SB 5 had gutted election offices’ ability to engage in voter outreach, cutting down registration in Democratic-leaning districts. And then there was HB 2054, the campaign finance expansion that had flooded Kansas with dark money, amplifying Republican campaigns and drowning out their opposition.

The fix had been in for months.

And yet, seeing it play out in real time made it feel real in a way that he hadn’t been ready for.

Rachel shook her head, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Another sweep,” she muttered under her breath. “They have everything now.”

David didn’t respond.

The Democratic governor was out. The statehouse was fully Republican-controlled. The legislature had secured its veto-proof supermajority.

And with that, the last meaningful checks on their power were gone.

The screen cut to footage of the Republican victory party in Wichita. Supporters in red ties and suits waved signs that read “Kansas, Red Forever” and “Keep the Liberals Out.”

Rachel turned away from the screen, staring at the floor.

She took a deep breath, then another. And then, finally, she said it.

“We should go.”

David blinked. “What?”

Rachel turned to face him. Her voice was steady, but her hands were clenched into fists. “We should leave Kansas. Before it gets worse.”

David scoffed. “And go where? You want to pack up everything and just—what? Move to Colorado? Minnesota? Like this won’t be happening everywhere in five years?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, without hesitation. “If it means the kids can grow up somewhere where their teachers don’t have to be terrified of losing accreditation. Where they won’t be fed propaganda in their classrooms. Where we don’t have to watch our neighbors slowly accept all of this as normal.”

David exhaled sharply, staring back.

She had been talking like this for months—about leaving, about the slow unraveling of the state. But it had always felt hypothetical. A future possibility, not an immediate decision.

But now? Now she was serious.

And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

David looked back at the TV screen.

The crowd in Wichita was still cheering. Still waving their signs.

The camera zoomed in on a man in a red blazer, holding a microphone, his voice booming over the speakers.

“This is a victory for real Kansans,” he said, grinning. “A victory for our way of life! And let me tell you something—we’re just getting started!”

David felt something in his stomach twist.

Rachel had been right all along. They weren’t just winning elections anymore. They were cementing them. And for the first time in his life, David Harrington wasn’t sure if Kansas was home anymore.

The election was over, but the aftershocks were still rippling through Kansas. Rachel had spent the past week watching the fallout unfold.

The newly elected officials wasted no time. The incoming governor had already announced his agenda: even more aggressive school funding changes, an abortion ban, and another round of tax cuts that would hollow out the state’s revenue even further.

David had caught Rachel late at night, sitting at the kitchen table, staring at job postings in Colorado and Minnesota. He hadn’t said anything.

Not yet.

But the truth was, he was starting to wonder if she was right.

That night, as they lay in bed, Rachel spoke into the darkness.

“You know it’s only going to get worse,” she said softly.

David stared at the ceiling. “I know.”

“So what are we waiting for?”

David exhaled.

He didn’t have an answer.

And that was the problem.