Wyatt Callow had been gone far too long. The victor’s train screeched to a halt beneath the gray skies of District 12, and as the iron wheels slowed, his heart pounded with a mix of dread and hope. He had survived the Hunger Games, returned to the place that had once been his home, but everything felt different now. The narrow streets were dustier, the faces he remembered older or gone, and the air heavy with quiet tension.

Wyatt’s boots hit the cracked platform with a weight that echoed his thoughts. He had left as a frightened boy, ripped away from everything he knew and loved. He had fought for his life in an arena designed to destroy hope, yet somehow, against impossible odds, he had come back alive. But there was one secret he did not know — one that would change everything.

He scanned the small crowd gathered near the platform. Among the wary faces and whispered greetings, his eyes caught sight of her. She stood there, alone but strong. His sweetheart, the girl he had loved before he was reaped, the one whose soft smile had given him strength through the darkest nights. Her hair was tied back loosely, strands falling across her tired face, but her eyes shone bright with a mixture of relief and something he could not yet name.

In her arms, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, was a tiny bundle. A newborn child, sleeping peacefully despite the weight of the world around her. Wyatt’s chest tightened. The impossible truth settled over him like a wave — she was carrying the child he never knew existed. His child.

Time slowed as he moved toward her, unsure if this was a dream or reality. The soft rustle of her clothes, the faint scent of lavender and earth, the warmth radiating from the small life in her arms — it all grounded him in a moment he had never dared to imagine.

She met his gaze, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “Wyatt,” she said quietly, voice trembling but steady. “I hope you’re having a good day”

He knelt beside her, his rough hands trembling slightly as he reached out to touch the baby’s soft cheek. The child’s tiny fingers curled instinctively around one of his calloused fingers, and Wyatt’s breath hitched. His heart, once hardened by the brutal Games, melted in an instant. “{{user}},” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”