𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟 ⟢ 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕆𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕣

- ȶաɛʟʋɛ

July 2nd. Two days until the Reaping. Willa felt the ticking of each second like a heavy beat in her chest. Every passing moment seemed to press on her more urgently, a slow, unrelenting countdown to the Reaping. She found herself drifting to Katia's side again and again, her hands seeking the comfort of Katia's touch as if her life depended on it. And in a way, it did. Each time their hands touched, each time Willa felt Katia's warmth, it reminded her she wasn't alone—at least, not yet.

That morning, as sunlight filtered into the kitchen, Willa leaned against Katia, resting her head on her shoulder while they washed dishes. The simplicity of the moment felt almost surreal, given the tension hanging over them. Katia moved carefully, methodically scrubbing each plate, her presence radiating the calm steadiness Willa so desperately needed.

"Are you going to stay right here, the whole day?" Katia asked softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was no hint of complaint in her voice—only warmth, an understanding that made Willa's heart ache.

"If you don't mind," Willa nodded, pressing herself a little closer. Katia shook her head, leaning into Willa's touch as she reached over to wipe a stray soap bubble off Willa's cheek.

"Not at all," she whispered, her voice soft. "I don't mind one bit."

For a while, they simply stood like that, swaying gently, the kitchen a quiet sanctuary in the middle of everything. The hum of the kids playing in the other room floated in from the hallway, and Willa tried to focus on the sound, the lightness of their laughter. But every time her mind wandered, it went back to the Capitol, to the Reaping, to the looming possibility that she'd be separated from Katia, from the kids—from the life she was finally beginning to love.

"Katia..." Willa's voice was barely audible, her throat tight with the words she could barely say out loud. "What if it's me?"

Katia stilled, turning to face her fully. She gently took Willa's hands, her thumbs tracing soft circles over her knuckles.

"If it is," she said, her voice steady, "then I know you'll be strong. You'll carry all of us with you, in your heart. And you'll come back."

The conviction in Katia's voice made Willa's chest ache, a sharp mix of hope and fear.

"You don't know that," she whispered, the vulnerability spilling out despite her attempts to keep it in. "And if I don't come back... what then? How do I just... leave you? Leave them?"

Katia's hands tightened around hers, her eyes fierce and unwavering.

"You won't be leaving us, Willa. We'll be with you every second. Every step you take, every breath you draw, you'll be carrying us. And if there's anyone who can make it back... it's you." Her gaze softened, her fingers brushing lightly over Willa's cheek. "I believe in you, Willa. I believe in you more than anything."

Willa closed her eyes, leaning into Katia's touch, letting herself hold on to the faith in her voice. Katia's belief in her was like an anchor, something that made the fear feel just a little less consuming. As the day drifted on, Willa stayed close to Katia, their fingers intertwining whenever they passed one another, silent reassurances exchanged with every touch. Fallon took the kids out again, giving them one last day of laughter and joy, and Willa felt the fragile beauty of this day settle over her, each moment precious, fleeting.

That evening, as the sky turned a deep shade of indigo, Willa and Katia sat together on the porch steps, watching the stars emerge one by one. Willa's head rested on Katia's shoulder, her fingers tracing absent patterns over Katia's hand. The air was cool, calm, almost too perfect, like a trick to lull her into a false sense of peace before everything changed.