The sterile air of the hospital in District 13 smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and fear that lingered in the atmosphere. The soft whirring of machines filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional distant voice echoing through the stark corridors.

Katniss stood just outside your room, her heart racing. She had just left Peeta’s room, where he had nearly killed her. The memory of his violent outburst hung over her like a dark cloud, and now she felt that same fear creeping into her chest as she prepared to face you. She took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.

The sight before her was heartbreaking. You lay on the narrow bed, your body bruised and broken, covered in bandages and medical devices. A breathing mask partially obscured your face, but your eyes—once filled with defiance—now reflected a flicker of anger mixed with pain. Katniss moved closer, hesitating at the foot of the bed, unsure of how to approach.

“Hey,” She said softly, trying to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. “How are you feeling?”