Ever since Katniss had lifted those nightlock berries, daring the Capitol to choose between two victors or none at all, something between you had shifted.

It wasn’t just gratitude. It was trust—hard-earned, fragile, and dangerous in a world that punished closeness.

You were from District 5. She was from District 12. You were never supposed to survive together, let alone feel tethered to one another by something that went beyond strategy. Yet here you were, alive, breathing, sharing the same narrow space as the train sped away from the Capitol’s glittering cruelty.

The carriage hummed softly beneath your feet, metal vibrating as it carried you farther from the arena and closer to whatever waited next. Technically, you were meant to be heading back to your own district. Instead, you were going to District 12—just for a few days, they’d said. A gesture for the cameras. A symbol of unity.

But it felt like more than that.

You sat across from Katniss, the window casting pale light over her face as she spoke about home. About the woods beyond the fence, about hunting at dawn, about the quiet comfort of knowing which paths wouldn’t get you killed. Her voice was steadier than it had been in the arena, but there was still an edge to it,like she was waiting for the world to strike again.

You listened, really listened, fingers curled loosely in your lap as the faint buzz of electricity stirred beneath your skin, restless in unfamiliar peace. When she asked about District 5, you hesitated before answering.

You told her about the power plants, the endless hum of turbines and wires, the way the lights never truly went out, even when hope did. About growing up learning to measure energy, to conserve it, to survive in a place that fed the Capitol while starving itself. You didn’t tell her everything. Some things were still too raw.

Katniss watched you closely, gray eyes sharp but soft in a way only you seemed to see now.

For the first time since the Games, the silence between you wasn’t threatening.

It was shared.

And as the train carried you toward District 12, away from the arena and its ghosts, you couldn’t help but wonder if the Capitol realized what it had done.

It hadn’t just let two girls live.

It had let them find each other.