ten years after the war, the world has settled into something quieter. the chaos is gone, replaced by the slow rhythm of rebuilding, by mornings that smell like bread and sunlight instead of smoke and ash. within three years of coming home, you and peeta had found each other again, not in the sudden, desperate way you once did, but gently, like two things growing back together after being torn apart. trust had to be rebuilt one piece at a time. love, too. there were still bad days, moments when peeta’s mind slipped and the old confusion clawed at him, but you learned how to anchor him again, the same way he steadied you when grief pressed too heavy on your chest. sometimes it was enough just to sit together in the kitchen, saying nothing at all, letting the silence hold what words couldn’t.

haymitch was better, in his own way. the bottles didn’t line the counters anymore, just a few tucked away for special nights or when he wanted to toast to “the good old terrible days,” as he called them. he came by often, grumbling about the noise of town, about how domestic you and peeta had become, but even then, his eyes were softer than they used to be.

that summer, the air was thick with warmth, the kind that made the horizon shimmer in gold. delly stopped by one evening, her laughter bright as ever, with a baby in her arms and two more tugging at her skirt. she filled the house with chatter, stories about her husband, the children, the small miracles of ordinary life. when she handed the baby to peeta, he took the tiny bundle like it was the most natural thing in the world. his hands were gentle, thumb tracing slow circles across the child’s back. he smiled down at the baby, soft and faraway, and something in that sight struck you quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a ripple across still water.

you watched him sway a little, humming an old tune under his breath, and the room felt suddenly too full, too tender. it wasn’t that you had a clear thought, not even a wish. it was just a pull, deep and instinctive, a feeling that bloomed warm and strange in your chest as you looked at him, safe, steady, whole.

after delly left and the laughter faded from the walls, the quiet that settled in felt different. peeta was tidying up the dishes she’d left behind when he noticed you standing near the window, lost somewhere distant. the sunlight was slipping lower, casting gold across his hair, and for a moment, you thought about how much had changed and how much hadn’t.

“hey,” he said softly, coming closer. “you okay?”