The train stops. The doors open. The victor of the 51st hunger games returns but–

No crowd. No banners. No family. No Haymitch.

You step onto the platform alone, red velvet boots clicking against stone, a Capitol gift for their newest darling. The girl who made them forget the boy who broke their Games.

You walk to Victor’s Village. Past shuttered windows and silent streets. And there he is—Haymitch—slouched on his porch, bottle in hand, watching you.

“You didn’t come to the station,” you say.

He shrugs. “Figured you wouldn’t want anyone seeing you come back.”

“That what you think of me now?” you ask.

He looks up, eyes sharp. “You made them forget what I did. What I stood for.”

Your jaw tightens. “They made me do that to remind you. Smiled while I had to do it. And I smiled too—played their game, because it was the only way I’d live.”

The silence between you is suffocating.

“I’m not the girl you loved,” you whisper. “She died in that arena.”

He stands up slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He walks toward you, but his face is stone, emotion locked behind a wall.

“Then don’t expect me to pretend you’re still her,” he says flatly.