The Epilogue - Katniss and Peeta

He's home.

*Katniss POV*

I see him as I'm walking towards the victors houses. He's digging in the garden quietly, and I move my direction to him.

I didn't even know he came home.

Should I feel guilty?
Who knows how long he's been here?

He couldn't have been here long; I would have saw him.

I walk towards him, scared to see his reaction towards me. I haven't even seen him since my stunt with the nightlock pill—I can still picture his face of betrayal as he saw the pill.

"Peeta?" I ask, still shocked. He turns around and gets up slowly, looking at me.

"Hey." He says calmly, whilst I stand there. I manage to mutter out a few words, looking like an idiot.

"You came home." I barely let out, my voice cracking on the end of the sentence.

"Yeah." He remarks, standing there. I also stand there in the awkward silence, and my eyes fall downwards.

I glance down in his hands, and I see he's holding flowers. But they aren't just any flowers. He looks down at them, reading my eyes as he used always used to do.

He gestures towards the flowers. "Found these over by the edge of the forrest."

I know exactly what they are, and although the memory haunts me, I'm not mad. I just stare at those flowers—reminding me of her.

"It's a primrose." He whispers, knowing we both realize the meaning of the flower.

All the memories start to flood back, and my wall keeping out the pain breaks. I'm left there, seeing all those memories dance along my vision.

I can only think of one thing to do.

I drop my bow, and start walking towards Peeta, but he doesn't flinch. Instead, he embraces me, holding me while I cry. I grab onto him and bury my face in his shoulder, taking in the comfort of his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss." He says slowly, and I take in a shaky breath.

It's the first time anyone has mentioned her. I was worried I would breakdown at even the first reference of her.

I knew nobody would understand my grief. I thought nobody would validate my pain.

But now, I realize how happy I am to have someone who understands the pain; who understands the trauma.

Someone who feels the pain I feel.

He stands there, embracing me in his arms. It's not until I finally release him from my grip, that he lets go of me. He wipes the tears from my eyes, and I feel this feeling I forgot I had.

"I'm so sorry." I say, feeling something in my heart. He shakes his head, dismissing my apology.

I watch as he bends back down to plant the primrose that was in his hand, before he turns away from me.

As I watch him focusing on the flower, I realize I have two options.

Walk away, or do something to hopefully restart the connection we had.

Strangers to friends.

Friends to lovers.

Lovers to enemies.

And strangers again.

I have to do it.
I can't lose him again.

I ask him if he wants to come over for dinner tonight—displaying my game bag. I break a half smile and he nods.