Ten Years

Part 1 of 2

It's the first day of spring. It's been my favourite day of the year since I was a little girl and it hasn't changed in my 35 years on this earth. I think it started when I was small and I learnt to hunt with my father. It was his favourite day too. Spring marked the end of the harsh winter, when animals would come out of hibernation and we were able to put food on the table again. The flowers would bloom in the meadow where we lived, bringing lush colours to the dead landscape. My mother would always perk up as well when spring came, the cheer of the sunlight and new flowers enough to bring a smile to her face. As a child, on this day I would go out with my father, bundled in my jacket and hunting boots while my mother stayed inside with Prim. His excitement would be palpable as he pointed out the new sprouting plants. "Spring is the time for new beginnings." He would tell me. When we'd get closer to the lake - a place I wouldn't have seen for the previous 3 months - he'd kneel down by the edge and search for a particular plant. "There you are, Katniss," he'd say, pointing to the green plant with white flowers tentatively blooming, "that's you." I'd smile and gently caress the flower petals on the plant that was my namesake. Once we were deep into the forest, his bow would come out – and in later years, mine as well – and he'd search eagerly for whatever animal first crossed his line of sight. I'd watch him with serious eyes, drinking in everything I could to learn how to hunt as well as him. He moved with fluidity, crossing the ground with a deathly quiet stride and rapid pace. He nearly always nailed his first shot. When we'd return home, late in the day, my father would always stop in the meadow and we'd bundle up a bunch of pretty flowers for my mother and Prim. When we'd enter the house my mother would greet us with a happy smile and hot drinks, before getting to work with my father to clean the day's meat.

In later years, after my father's passing, the day became bittersweet. But as I'd go out with Gale instead of my father, we'd share a similar joy and relief for the first day of spring, proving that not all the happiness had been leeched from the day. I'd still pick my mother flowers and even though her smile was frail and muted, it was a smile nonetheless.

Now, decades later, there's another little girl that looks forward to the day just as much as I used to. Unlike me as a child, she doesn't get excited for the prospect of hunting or putting food on the table (she'll never have to worry about that in her lifetime) but instead every year she hurries outside to excitedly collect the new flowers that are blooming. She looks exactly like me, so much it's nearly startling. If you were to put her in the woods in the Seam it would be almost as if you were in a time warp, 31 years prior. It hits me every time with a pang of sadness that I can't share the image with my own parents. The only difference between the two of us is that her dark raven hair hangs around her face in ringlets- that I have a very much love hate relationship with- instead of waves and her skin is slightly paler. She's a gentle soul who loves everything girly – another difference between the two of us – and will carefully pick the prettiest flowers she can find, placing them in the wicker basket that is now kept solely for flower storage. Keeping with tradition, every year I take her out to the garden and point out the red and black flowers that are her own namesake. After four years, she's learnt the routine and will gently pick the poppies and say, "Mommy look, there's my flowers." At her request, I'll then braid them into her hair, creating a crown for the first day of spring.

I look towards the kitchen table now and spy said crown beginning to wilt in her long dark curls. Despite the difficulty in maintaining her unruly hair, I'd never had the heart to cut it. It falls against her face as she sits at the table, paper and crayons clenched in her tiny fist. Her innocence and happiness for days like these are enough to erase the slight ache in my heart left by the death of my parents. The tradition allows me to share a little bit of my parents with her and relive my fond childhood memories.

Of course, my childhood memories aren't the only reason I look forward to the first day of spring anymore. Despite how much I love watching Poppy's face as she collects her prized flowers and remembering those precious moments with my father, there's something else now that makes this day even more special. You see, the first day of spring five years ago marks a very important new beginning, one that I had once thought was not possible. Five years ago on this day I put on a white lace dress, with flowers positioned carefully in my own hair, and marched down the aisle of the Chateau Montelena winery to marry the love of my life. 9 years after first meeting him, I finally married him. So now on my favourite day of the year, not only do I celebrate my family, I also celebrate the beginning of a lifetime with Peeta Mellark.

I smile down at the dishes I'm scrubbing in the sink of our kitchen as Poppy draws at the table. Sometimes I ask myself how I ended up so lucky – and so happy – but I know it was not an easy road to get here. I wouldn't say that life is perfect now, by any means, but for us it's perfect enough.

Today is the first wedding anniversary where we aren't actually actively celebrating. The three years previously we had organized dinners or romantic getaways to celebrate the day. One year we had even taken a beach holiday to the Philippines. However this year, with the mix of work, a four year old and a newborn, we had both agreed to take it easy at home.

"Mommy?"

I look over at Poppy who has her big grey eyes trained on me curiously. She's curious about everything. Not in a loud, outgoing way but a calm, contemplative nature. "Yes, sweetie?"

"Where's Daddy?"

Despite being a carbon-copy of me, she is really a daddy's girl. Granted, a lot of that stems from being able to bake and decorate cookies and cakes with Peeta (kids really do anything for sugar) but it is true nonetheless. He also throws the best princess tea parties, apparently.

"Putting the baby to sleep."

"Oh. Can I watch T.V.?"

I wipe my hands on a tea towel and glance at the clock. "It's bedtime."

Although she pouts, she doesn't argue. Her demeanour is so alike to Peeta. She climbs down from the kitchen chair, a little ungainly, and skips off toward the stairs. I choose to ignore she hasn't packed up her crayons.

In the bathroom, she clambers onto the orange kiddie stool that sits in front of the sink, one hand planted on the edge of the counter as she stretches her little arm across the tiled vanity for her pink toothbrush. While I often proudly call her the easiest child in the world to raise, tooth brushing is one thing that has become a battle as of late. She insists she is old enough to do it herself – though I knew better – which has now turned into a routine where she brushes them herself first and then Peeta or myself have to convince her to let us follow it up. This stubborn, independent streak is something that is quickly developing in her personality and Peeta blames me for it. Okay, so I'll admit, that probably came from me, but otherwise she's 98% Peeta.

Tonight, there is minimal fuss when I take the brush from her. I quickly untangle her hair and watch patiently as she attempts to dress herself in her pyjamas, only helping when necessary. Tucking her into bed, I ask which story she wants tonight. She picks her favourite, one Peeta and I know off by heart, and I repress a sigh at having to read Cookies and Milk to her again.

By the time I close the book her eyes are drooping heavily and I just catch her slurred whisper asking if daddy will come in to kiss her goodnight. I creep out of the room in search of Peeta, knowing full well she'll be asleep by the time he'll tiptoe in to give her a kiss.

Peeta's just closing the door to the nursery when I step into the hallway. He puts his finger to his lips, a slightly frazzled look swimming in his eyes and a baby monitor in his other hand. "I just got him down." He whispers.

I sigh. After having Poppy – a baby who basically slept through the night from when she was born – we'd assumed, very naively, that a second baby would be the same. Hunter is nothing like Poppy. Even at 3 months, he hasn't settled into a proper sleeping routine and we are experiencing the sleepless nights and stress new parents constantly complained about, that we'd managed to conveniently evade the first time around. I had the sneaking suspicion that Hunter's personality would turn out to be nearly all me. God help us all.

We quickly trade places, Peeta heading into Poppy's room and me just sticking my head into the nursery for fear of waking the cranky baby. He's swaddled in a soft, organic bamboo baby wrap that had been sent to us by Madge when Poppy was first born. He's got dark hair like both me and Poppy, though I have the feeling it will lighten into blonde as he gets older. After all, he already has a lot of Peeta's other features, including his nose and bright blue eyes. Seeing that he is indeed peacefully asleep, I leave him be and pad down the hall into our master bedroom.

I sigh tiredly as I finally get to shimmy out of my uncomfortable work clothes. Panty hose and heels are still the bane of my existence. Not that much has changed over the years. There was once a sweet period of my life when I'd strip off into sweats and a hoodie the minute I walked into the house after a day's work. Now with two young children that luxury has faded. Like tonight, the minute I walked inside I was on Poppy-watch as Peeta tried to tend to the screaming baby.

I'd only gone back to work a week ago but it is already beginning to feel like an eternity. I'd returned to work at the same time after Poppy was born and it had been fine, but again, we hadn't quite factored in the difficulty of Hunter when we'd made this decision a second time around.

That being said, Peeta and I were lucky that both of our jobs fit so flexibly around one another. I worked two days a week at the small law firm here in State 9 while he looked after the kids and for the remaining three days he worked on his contracted books and personal art projects in the studio we'd built out back while I took the kids. We'd had the same rhythm since Poppy came along and it proved to be the perfect solution to balance a career and our beloved family. It isn't the most conventional arrangement, and we've had a few of our elderly neighbours, stuck in their archaic ways, question it but it works for us. I'll never forget the look on Mrs Calloway's face when she questioned Peeta about his job for the first time. A wife shouldn't have to work to help provide for the family, she'd argued, that was a man's job. We tried to explain that I wanted, rather than needed to work however she wasn't having a bar of it, particularly as I held what she considered to be the more esteemed job between the two of us. We didn't tell her that technically neither of us needed to work. We could technically live off Peeta's trust fund for the rest of our lives though neither of us ever showed any inclination toward that. We rarely dip into that fund – only for our wedding and occasionally for holidays – and we both agreed it would be passed down to the children once they were old enough.

Peeta walks in as I'm slipping on my pajamas. He walks up behind me and snakes his arms around my waist, his lips pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Happy anniversary."

I chuckle lightly and turn around to face him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. "Happy anniversary."

It's really the first time all day I've gotten a decent look at him. He hasn't changed all too much in the 14 years I've known him. He still cuts his hair the same way, shaves his face the same way (we'll forget about that one disastrous six month period where he'd tried to grow a beard) and wears the same sort of clothes. He's got a few more laugh lines around his eyes and mouth and a bit more softness around his middle but he's still the same Peeta. Tonight he's got heavy bags under his eyes – I know I do too – but he looks happy.

"Long day?"

He smirks slightly and leans his forehead against mine. "You could say that. I know I made fun of that baby carrier when you first bought it, but seriously it was a life saver today. I couldn't put him down without him crying."

"I'm usually right, you know."

"That you are." He smiles. He kisses the tip of my nose, then he pulls back suddenly, perking up a bit. "But we have to do this now, before he wakes up again."

"Do what?"

He's already crossed the room and is kneeling in front of the closet, moving pairs of shoes out of the way, as he searches for something in the back.

"What are you doing?"

"Sit." He demands, waving his hand vaguely at me behind his back as he pulls out a box. I frown, but sit cross legged on the middle of the bed. He opens the box and pulls out some random things before taking out a medium sized book. I wrinkle my nose in confusion. I clean that closet out all the time, since when was that in there? Or maybe I hadn't cleaned it since Hunter was born…

He gets up, leaving things strewn about the floor, much like Poppy, and proffers it to me.

"Happy anniversary, Katniss."

I stare at him blankly for a beat. See here's the thing: Peeta is actually the master of gift giving. He's like Father Christmas. Regardless of whether the present is for me, Annie, Prim, Rye, whoever, he always comes up with the perfect idea. So much, that I had to start thinking of his presents months and months in advance, just so I could come up with something that was on par to his. In fact, for his anniversary present this year, I'd started planning four months ago, which worked out well actually because I had time off being pregnant. So when he holds out a book to me, I'm slightly confused. After a moment of hesitation, I take it.

It's about the size of a typical hard cover, square children's book but unlike the other children's books in Poppy's room, the cover is plain. No pictures, nothing. All it has is a cursive, gold script on the front with the words: Ten Years.

"Is this the book you've been working on this past month?"

"Yes." He nods, as he sits next to me on the bed.

"You got me a children's book for our anniversary? You know that paper is the gift for the first year not the fourth?"

He rolls his eyes. "Just open it."

I run my fingers over the title and open the cover. The title is printed again on the first page but he's also scrawled a note in pen on the bottom.

Katniss,

With all my love, forever and a day.

Peeta.

Despite still being confused, my heart swells and I look up at him with a smile. "Keep going." He gently urges.

There are only two words on the next page as well.

Year 1.

Intrigued, I flip over the next page.

I'm met with a drawing of a beach, one I know very well. It's a long strip of sand, with cerulean blue waves crashing in front of it and a large mound of jagged rocks. It's the end of the Strip in State 4. Two figures sit perched on the rocks, their backs facing the viewer, as they look out at the waves. One has dark hair, wrapped in a long braid while the other has a messy array of blonde curls. A date is printed in the corner, February 2017, along with the words New Beginnings.

I start flicking through more pages, coming across more drawings of myself, sometimes with Peeta, sometimes without. Other people sometimes make it into them. They're in all sorts of locations: State 4, the Capitol, State 12 and all sorts of colours and styles. They all have dates but some are accompanied with just a few words while others are accompanied by slabs of text.

I look up at Peeta, who's watching me intently, with a mix of awe and bewilderment. "Peeta, what is this?"

"It's us. It's the last ten years."

My throat constricts as I look down at the book. Of course it isn't a children's book. Of course this is, unexpectedly, the most thoughtful gift he's given me yet. Because it's Peeta. This is what Peeta does. He's crafted a glorious, creative and beautiful celebration of the last 10 years we've had together. Then a new thought occurs to me.

"Wait, so this is the important book you've been working on the past month? This is the reason you've been holed up in your studio for so long? While I've been with the kids, you haven't been working on anything for your publisher at all?"

A sheepish expression flits across his face. He opens his mouth for a rebuttal but as he looks at my gaze he shuts it again. He screws up his nose and waves his hand in the air, silencing me. "That's irrelevant right now. Besides I drew some of these long before this year. Just read the book."

It's my turn to roll my eyes now as I shoot him an exasperated look but I do as he asks, more intrigued than ever to see what's laying beneath these pages.

The next drawing is the same day as the beach. I recognize the coffee house that sat by the Strip. This one is from Peeta's point of view. The drawing is of a twenty-something year old girl with a messy braid. She's looking down at her hands as she clutches a coffee cup, a tiny hint of a smile pulling at her lips. I still remember the conversation to this day.

Peeta stares at me from across the table at one of the coffee houses along the Strip. He holds a mug of coffee casually in one hand as he navigates the majority of our conversation with the same ease he's always had.

"Are you still at United?" He asks. While his eyes are trained intently on me, his expression is open and unguarded. Friendly. It isn't the same stilted, contrived friendliness that I'd seen on his face the year previously, as he tried so hard to make something broken work again like it used to. No, it's genuine, unequivocal interest.

It shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Based on our track record, I'd stopped entertaining fantasies of Peeta and I having any form of a genuine relationship ever again. The last time I'd seen him it had been a quick thing, a hasty exchange of polite greetings, as we both had more important things to tend to. I figured that would be our story. We'd crop up every now and then, exchange pleasantries, maybe a bit of small talk, and return to our own lives, forgetting about it all until the next year rolled around. Only today when I found him sitting on the rocks on the Strip earlier this afternoon, I realized our story might change.

His presence had caught me off guard. I hadn't expected him to be here today, though in retrospect it makes sense that he is. I hadn't expected his words on the beach either and they created an unwanted spark of hope within me that I'm currently trying my best to ignore.

I still haven't figured out what I'm doing yet, or what he is doing either, for that matter. But here is, and here I am, chatting over coffee in State 4 like the old days. And I like it.

And it scares me how much I like it.

"Yeah." I nod, smiling at him. "I'm still at United. I've got a new grad under my wing now that Leevy is gone."

"She didn't come back?"

I shake my head. "Her heart was never in it and a child was the ticket she needed to get out of it. And that baby is absolutely adorable, I don't blame her for abandoning me."

He laughs. "Speaking of children, how's little Nick?"

A bigger grin slowly spreads across my face as that chubby little face comes to mind. "Gorgeous as ever. Have you seen him recently?"

He shakes his head and I wonder how often he travels back to the Capitol to see Annie. I imagine it's not particularly often considering the frequency I see Annie and Nick. So with that in mind, I take out my phone and start scrolling through my camera roll. "I know he's only five months but I can already see a lot of Finnick in him." I turn my phone toward him and show him the pictures that I take after boredom hits me when I'm babysitting him. His whole face warms as he scrolls through the baby pictures.

"He's gotten so much bigger."

"They grow quickly."

He scrolls to the next picture. Darius sits on the couch in my apartment, cuddling Nick in his arms. I feel a small pang in my heart as I stare at the picture.

"Do you and Darius babysit him often?"

I hesitate as I wonder briefly what to say. "Oh, um, just me. I babysit him every week. We're not together anymore. Me and Darius, I mean."

His eyes flit from the phone to my face. Genuine surprise is on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry." He doesn't ask for more details and I'm glad he doesn't because I wouldn't be ready to give them to him anyway. Despite breaking up – amicably I might add - nearly two months ago, the thought of it still leaves an uncomfortable feeling in my chest.

The thing is, I really, truly, wanted to love Darius. I really did. There were so many good things about him. We'd had a good relationship. Things had worked easily for us. We rarely fought. I genuinely looked forward to spending my days with him. However, despite how good things were, I never loved him like he loved me. I just couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't give him what he deserved. I had been hoping it would change over time but it just never did. So rather than prolong the inevitable, I ended it.

"It's okay. Just wasn't right, you know?"

"I know the feeling."

He does, I realize. While I still never figured out the details to his break up with Madge, as I think about it now, it's startlingly similar to Darius and me. Perfect on the outside yet not quite right on the inside. I wonder what it'll take for us to find the right people?

Rather than dwell on failed relationships, he conveniently changes the topic, putting me at ease once again. I watch him talk animatedly as he describes his home in State 5, being mildly surprised that he chose to go back to his hometown. The allure for him, it seems, is the community feel of the town, as opposed to the isolation of the Capitol. This doesn't really surprise me. Peeta's always been a people person. He still has the same job too, unsurprisingly.

I feel a smile wrap around my lips as he continues to speak so happily of his new life. As I watch him speak, I finally see what I had been unable to previously. I see the difference in him than when he had lived in the Capitol. That little extra spark that had been missing. The spark Finnick had so perceptively tried to convince me had been missing from Peeta.

While I still haven't figured out exactly what either of us are doing and while wariness still exists somewhere in the back of my head - enough to remind me to tread carefully here – I let myself feel that small spark of hope that had caught fire on the beach. Perhaps our story didn't have to end where I had assumed it would. Perhaps there is something more here than what I realize. Times have changed, we've matured, and we've moved on from old mistakes. It feels different this time between us. There are no expectations, no hurt feelings.. It's just two people….catching up.

We could be friends couldn't we?

And friends we became. The following day I returned to the Capitol and he went back to State 5. We remained friends for the year, despite the distance. It started with just occasional texts when one of us was bored or we had something funny to say. The conversations slowly became longer and over time we grew more comfortable delving into serious topics. At times our conversations turned into late night rants or heart to hearts when one of us had had a bad day or couldn't sleep that night. Texts then morphed into Skype and phone calls. Everything became a very natural rhythm. Truthfully, the distance between us was our saving grace. We didn't have the option to rush into anything or see too much of each other. We were able to be separate, yet still connected, something that had never occurred before for the two of us.

We didn't see each other face to face again until September that year for Nick's 1st birthday. This time it wasn't awkward like it had been when he was born. There was no confusion between us. Back in each other's presence, the playfulness of our messaging increased tenfold. Teasing, banter and jokes flew all over the house and 1000 watt smiles lit up everyone's faces at the party. It had been nice, for once, to have no awkward undercurrents lining our social occasions.

There's a picture for that day too. It looks familiar and I think it might have come from a photograph. Johanna, Annie, Peeta and myself all stand in Annie's backyard with little Nick cuddled in Peeta's arms, a party hat sitting on top of head and his hands are holding cake. It's strange seeing Nick so small again. Now, he's 10 years old and looks extremely similar to Finnick, although you can still see some of Annie's features in him. He's a confident kid, no surprise there, and he's also incredibly sweet and caring. I wonder if his older self will make an appearance later in the book.

I flip through a few more pages before I settle on one in July 2018.

"Do you remember that day?" Peeta asks me.

"Do I remember that day?" I scoff. "Of course I do. It's the day you asked me out again."

The actual drawing seems insignificant, it had been a no frills occasion, however we both know that day had been a turning point in our relatiobship. Well, clearly, since we are now married with two kids.

"So, where are we going?"

I steal a glance at Peeta before turning my attention back on the road. He looks the picture of ease as he sprawls lazily in my car passenger seat, dressed in shorts and a tank top to combat the summer heat. Ray Bans shield his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun as he leans an arm out the window and taps the beat of the music on the window frame. He watches the scenery whizz by us, as the buildings of the Capitol slowly begin to thin out, replaced by trees and greenery as we get further and further out of the city centre.

"It's a surprise."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him eye me suspiciously. "Since when do you plan surprises? You hate them."

My mouth quirks up as I try not to laugh. "Sure, I don't like when people plan them for me." I admit. "But since you were complaining about not wanting to waste away the weekend, I planned one."

Despite not being able to see his eyes, I can tell he's surprised as he looks at me. Slowly he shakes his head and laughs. "I meant I didn't want to waste away the weekend at home. Coming to see you was the solution."

Huh. Interesting. When he'd been complaining to me on the phone earlier in the week, I'd assumed he meant he didn't want to watch a movie and eat junk food like we usually did. I'll admit, I'd been mildly offended, especially considering we hadn't seen each other for a good two months, though regardless, I'd come up with a solution.

"Well, now it's twice as better. You get to see me and get a surprise. Don't say I never do anything for you, Mellark."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He murmured. "So, are you going to tell me, or what?"

I roll my eyes. Maybe some of my impatience is rubbing off on him.

Considering he spent 3 years living in the Capitol, I figure he's already familiar with the place, so I let the cat out of the bag. "Sugarloaf Reserve."

"Where?"

I throw him an incredulous look. "Have you seriously never been there?"

"No."

"Peeta you lived here for three years! It's on the list of like the top 10 things to do in the Capitol."

"I didn't have a car here!" He exclaims. "And we've been driving for an hour."

Oh, that is true. "Well, you're lucky I do, Mr Boring. You're about to witness a beautiful place."

"Is that a guarantee?"

"Do I need to hold a hand over my heart and pledge its beauty?"

"It would help."

I throw a punch into his arm. "You're an idiot." I laugh. He shoves me back. "Hey! Hands off the driver. Car etiquette."

He rolls his eyes and laughs at me, as he resumes tapping his fingers against the door frame.

"In all seriousness though, I appreciate the effort."

I grin and turn up the radio, blaring Ho Hey from the car as we speed down the highway. We make good time and reach the reserve within the next 15 minutes. While Sugarloaf Reserve is not my ideal hike, mainly due to the popularity of the place, I cannot not deny that the view at the top of the small mountain is stunning - and the best we're going to get in the Capitol.

We set off at a steady pace. It's only a half hour to the top (not a real hike in my opinion) and we quickly pass many of the slower family groups along the trail.

"Do you do this often?" Peeta asks me after a few minutes.

"Do you think I have time to do this often?" I counter sarcastically.

The smile that never quite leaves his face flares up again. "Fair point."

We chat casually about random topics as we work our way to the peak…a new cheese bun recipe he whipped up the other night, comparing the coffee in the Capitol to State 5, Prim's studies, Rye's new girlfriend…

And the next minute the trees are clearing, opening up to the viewpoint, a fairly large outcrop of smooth faced rocks that give the perfect seat for the expansive view of the state. I hear Peeta's intake of breath and look toward him as his face morphs into awe as he walks closer to the viewpoints edge. I mentally pat myself on the back, knowing it was a good idea to bring him here. No doubt he's silently mapping out the landscape with his artist's eye and committing it to memory so it can be immortalised in his sketchbook later.

We explore the rocks for a little bit before we settle on a large one near the edge of the cliff. Lucky for us, since it's still early there aren't too many people crowding the area. We sit in contentment side by side as we both take in the vast landscape.

"I like being here." Peeta says after a little while. I turn my head and see he's staring at me with a gentle smile on his face and a look in his eyes I can't quite decipher. "I forgot how much you love the outdoors. This place makes you happy. I like seeing that."

To be honest, sometimes I forget how much I love the outdoors as well when I spend the majority of my days locked in a corporate office or in Bristel's coffee shop. It's excursions like these that remind me of what I miss when I work overtime week after week. And truthfully, after over two years in the Capitol I am beginning to grow tired of it.

I consider Peeta's statement and the warm look on his face. It's true that places like these make me happy but that's not the only thing that brings a smile to my face. There are other things I look forward to after endless weeks at work.

"Seeing you makes me happy too."

I feel like something passes between us, only I can't decipher exactly what it is.

"I feel like we've been dancing around this topic for a while." He tells me, still looking me in the eye, the intensity of his gaze mounting.

"What topic?"

His lips meet mine suddenly. They are warm and soft, gentle and strong, just like the used to be.

I would've thought, that after all this time, I would have to get used to kissing Peeta again. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that's not at all the case. We fit back together as if time hasn't passed. My eyes close instinctively as I lean into the kiss. His hands wrap firmly in my hair and pull me closer to him. The smell of him, the feel of him is still the same as my memories years before. He feels like home.

Before we go on too long, he breaks the kiss, though he leaves his face close to mine.

"That topic." He says.

I stare into his eyes. I can read them, now that I understand what is in them. They are filled with fondness and desire. I hate that the mixture brings about a spike of fear within in me but it does. We have such a horrible history. Yet it's true that we've been skirting around the issue for a while now. We've been testing each other with small flirtatious comments, little bits of physical contact and small gestures. But today, Peeta has finally taken the leap. He's had enough, I think. I have too, though I've been too scared to break the peace we've managed to find.

Unaware of my mental battle, he breaks into a grin and lays a hand against my cheek. I admire the full stretch of his lips against his teeth and the spark in his eyes.

"Katniss Everdeen, will you go on a date with me?"

Despite being scared, I said yes. We'd gone on a date that night. And then many more after that.

I've come to find that many good things can come out of fear. I found that being scared was okay as long as I didn't let that fear stop me. I was scared for the entire beginning of our new relationship. I was scared I would fuck it up again. I was scared he would get sick of me and realize he made a mistake. I was scared something would tear us apart. But my desire to be with Peeta outshone any fear I might have held onto. It spurred me to move forward as did his unrelenting support and confidence. And out of that fear came one of the best things that has happened to me.

I'd expected more of our family and friends to be surprised by our relationship though I ended up finding that the two of us had been under scrutiny for much longer than I imagined. No one was that surprised. I, however, was oblivious. Like usual.

Despite our renewed confidence in each other, we continued to move slowly. Part of it was due to our distance. We still lived apart, and although we began visiting each other more frequently on the weekends, we still spent more time apart than we did together. There's a series of small pictures, like a cartoon strip, in the book to denote this time period.

Although it's not depicted in the book, my mind gets stuck on one particular memory in the middle of that period.

After a rather quiet few months at United, things had suddenly exploded. Unrest overseas led to a heavy workload where I was constantly pulling overtime. After my partner quit unexpectedly the workload became insane. High stress, no sleep, poor diet and lack of exercise led for a textbook decline in my mental health. While normally I had a variety of coping skills and strategies to address situations like these, stress and lack of sleep could really impaired that rational part of your brain. I was also out of practice. While Peeta knew I was stressed, I didn't tell him the extent of it. I didn't want to bother him. Again, I had lost that rational perspective, the voice that would've told me to talk to him. Or anyone. When my communication had grown ever quieter and more dejected, Peeta started to read between the lines.

I had burst into tears when I'd found him sitting on my couch after I got home late one night after work. He'd taken the week off, put his own work on hold, to fly out to the Capitol for me. That had set a new tone in our relationship. I realized he really was in it for the long haul. From then on I tried to stop letting fear get in my way.

"I didn't realize that page was so interesting." Peeta notes dryly from his spot next to me on the bed. I realize I'm still staring at the series of small drawings. I shake off the memory and turn the page. "Be patient." I scold him. "You've seen all these before."

We flip through more pages together, laughing and reminiscing about the memories. His fingers trail over the pages, pointing things out to me, explaining why he chose to draw things a certain way. While most of the drawings use realism, some are more impressionistic, using different colour schemes or artistic styles. I remember most of the memories, but not quite all of them. While some are significant moments in our life, others are more random, things that stood out to Peeta but not necessarily to me.

We flick through that year's Christmas and New Years parties, with both his family and mine. Then moving into my new place in State 9, after I accepted a job offer so I could be free of the madness that was the United offices. Originally I had tried to find work in State 5, so Peeta and I could finally break our long distance cycle, however after a few months of looking it was clear that my options were slim. Instead, he followed me to State 9 two months after I moved, finally putting us in the same state for more than a weekend. Although we'd lived with each other before it was very different that time. We discovered each other's weird little habits, like how we obsessively laid things out in the pantry or how I always left my running shoes scattered by the door. We bickered occasionally over stupid things like the grocery shopping, why a law textbook seemed to have a permanent spot at the dining table or why he wouldn't let me throw out his four year old useless, ratty t shirts (I'm still working on that one). But I loved every second of it because we were finally together.

As I get further into the book, however, I find one moment that is clear as day to the both of us. Month, 2020.

Sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling through the trees gradually worm their way back into my consciousness as my eyes flutter open and take in my surroundings. Two big orbs of cerulean blue fill my vision along with a half crescent of smiling white teeth. Peeta.

"Hey sleepy." He smiles down at me.

I smile back and shift my head slightly that still rests on his thighs. One of his hands gently runs through my locks of hair that I left loose today, probably creating knots that I'll have to tease out later.

The pretty trees of the State 9 botanical gardens halo his head, their leaves gently swaying with the breeze. The remnants of our cheese and biscuits lay discarded on a plate alongside Peeta's sketchbook and pencils.

The gardens have become a favourite of ours to frequent on the weekends. They're so expansive that you can nearly always find a quiet and tranquil spot to relax in for the day.

"Was I asleep long?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe 15 minutes."

I take in my surroundings and the gentle feelings of his hands in my hair and the solid comfort of his body by mine. "This is perfection." I sigh quietly to Peeta and watch as his smile widens.

"It is." He agrees. "I love these kinds of days with you." He leans down to kiss me lightly but pulls away too quickly. I pout and he laughs.

"You know," he says as his fingers gently trail down the side of my face, "I was planning to take you away, go on a big holiday or something, or a cruise. I had some elaborate plans."

"I don't need to go on fancy holidays." I interrupt him.

"I know." He smiles tenderly at me. "And I realized that my favourite days are these simple ones here with you, where we go on a picnic, or bake together or try you annoy me as you read and I sketch. I never once thought twice about moving out here with you and I've loved every second of it. I love you so much and I want to keep having these sorts of days with you for the rest of our lives even when we're all wrinkly and grey." I shoot up from his lap, as it finally settles in to my often oblivious mind, what he is saying.

"Yes." I blurt out, placing my hands in his as I kneel next to him.

"I haven't even asked you the question." He laughs, sweeping hair from my face.

I join in the laughter and will my eyes not to tear up like they are threatening to. "Go on then, ask me."

He reaches into his leather satchel where he keeps his sketchbook and pencils. "Katniss Everdeen…shit I can't find it." I burst into laughter again as his expression turns slightly panicked and he rummages through the bag. After a few moments he pulls out a small white ring box with a new grin on his face.

"Katniss Everdeen," he begins again, "will you marry me?"

I don't even look at the ring as he opens the box. "Yes!" I exclaim, throwing my arms around his neck. He hugs me back tightly and then I grip his face and kiss him fiercely.

As we pull back he takes the ring in one hand and mine in his other and gently slides it onto my finger. I bite my lip as I stare down at it, tears welling up in my eyes. It's beautiful, absolutely perfect. A small white pearl sits in the middle of an elegant band of twisted gold with three small diamonds grouped together on either side. It's simple, elegant and unique. I instantly love it.

Peeta, on the other hand, becomes concerned over my silence. "You like it, right? I know it's not super glitzy or over the top but if you wanted something like that or something more traditional we could get it – "

"Shut up. I love it. I love you."

I cut him off with a kiss that puts him back at ease. As I kiss him a second time I can't help the happy tears that finally break free from my eyes.

He gently wipes them away with his thumbs. "Don't cry."

"I'm happy. I promise."

He pulls me between his legs and hugs me to his chest. He presses his lips to my temple and then to the ring on my finger. "Me too. So happy."

I look down at the same ring that still sits on my finger now joined by a gold and diamond wedding band. I love them just as much as the first time I laid eyes on them.

"You know that day," he taps the drawing, "I rehearsed my whole speech so many times while you were taking that nap but the minute I started talking it all went out the window."

"You did? You never told me that."

I never really thought about Peeta planning the proposal. He is always so good with words I figured he had just spoken off the cuff. To think of him nervously rehearsing his words to propose with brings a smile to my face.

"It's kind of nerve wracking to ask the love of your life to marry you."

"You knew I'd say yes."

"That's true." He laughs.

"It was perfect." I assure him.

He grins lopsidedly, then pecks me on the lips. "That's all I wanted."

We married the following year.

To all my readers,

It's been over a year and I have no idea where the time has gone. I hope some of you are still around. I've had this part written for a long time and I've been meaning to add the second part but it just hasn't happened yet, so I thought I'd at least give you this much right now.

I'd like to continue writing, however I've started a postgraduate degree and a new job and moved in with my partner, so my time is now scarce and my priorities are a little different. I hope to upload more eventually and I hope you'll enjoy reading it when I do.

Thank you so much for investing the time into this series. Much love to you all.

Elli.