Zuko approached Katara cautiously, the faint glow of the campfire casting long shadows across his face. She was sitting with her back to him, silent and still, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

He stopped a few paces away, hesitating before speaking. "Katara, I need to talk to you."

She didn’t respond, but he pressed on, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

"I know what you’ve been through. I know about your mother." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Finally, Katara shifted, turning just enough for Zuko to catch the sharp edge of her glare. He swallowed hard but didn’t back down.

"I also know who’s responsible," he continued, his tone soft but firm. "And if you want to, I can help you find him."

Still, no response. Zuko took a step closer, his voice gaining urgency. "Look, I know you don’t trust me. You have every reason not to. But I’ve been where you are—angry, lost, and looking for someone to blame. I can’t change what happened to you, but I can help you get the answers you deserve."

He paused, waiting for her to say something, anything. But when the silence stretched on, he added, almost pleading, "You don’t have to decide right now. Just… think about it."

With that, Zuko turned and walked away, leaving Katara alone with his words and the memories they stirred.