AN: It's been awhile, so to remind you where we left off:

Peeta has won the Hunger Games, and for a few hours is delighted that Katniss revealed in her interview that she loves him, too. But during the crowning ceremony, they show a recap of the interview and Peeta realizes that Katniss was just acting and that Haymitch had told her what to say. Back in District Twelve, Katniss had to "fake" her performance for the interview just because she was trying to please the Capitol audience, not because she didn't actually really feel that way.

"Look, boy…just because I gave her a few hints on how to work the interview doesn't mean anything," says Haymitch.

"Right," I answer, still looking at the floor of the elevator.

"She saved your life. There's no way I could have gotten that tourniquet to you if the sponsors hadn't fallen in love with her and wanted to see you two back together. And you said yourself she kissed you. That must mean something…"

He's cut off by the chime when the elevator reaches our floor at the top of the Training Center.

"Maybe," I answer and quickly make my escape. I head for my room and shut the door firmly behind me. I need to be alone right now.

I feel like such a fool. Somehow I managed to take one little pity kiss from Katniss and blow it up into this big romantic drama. But it was only ever in my head—of course she doesn't love me. She doesn't even know me. In fact, by now she probably even hates me. Katniss is not the kind of girl who enjoys being the center of attention and by talking about her in the arena, all I did was the focus the spotlight of the Capitol directly on her. Her life has probably been miserable ever since, and I did that to her. I wonder if she'll ever forgive me.

I lay down on my bed, not bothering with my clothes.

I try to think about that kiss—how it had made me feel like there was something between us. But it was too long ago and too much has happened since then. I've changed, and I can't remember what it felt like to kiss her, or to hold her in my arms. Not really.

I realize with horror that it's not even over yet. I still have the final interview with Caesar Flickerman in the morning, and then the cameras will be there when the train arrives in District Twelve the next day. Just like Haymitch said, they're going to want a big romantic reunion between me and Katniss. And then…my heart sinks even further. And then comes the Victory Tour. And mentoring for the District Twelve tributes every year for the rest of my life. I'm not so naïve as to think the Capitol won't demand a happy ending to our great romance. Will Katniss have to pretend for the rest of her life?

What have I gotten us into?

I roll over and bury my face in the pillows. For the first time, I almost wish I hadn't won.

He's coming home. He's coming home!

The whole District is celebrating and preparing for Peeta's arrival tomorrow. His victory means luck for everyone—the Capitol will shower us with gifts (mostly food) for the rest of the year. Fewer children will starve this winter, thanks to Peeta. Nearly everyone is walking around with huge smiles on their faces.

My emotions are all over the place. Of course I'm happy Peeta's coming home. I'm thrilled, in fact. And terrified, and excited, and anxious. It would be bad enough if it was just me and Peeta meeting for the first time after everything that's happened, but I know nearly everyone in Panem will be watching. I have no idea what to say to him. Last night during the recap he saw that ridiculous interview I gave, but I couldn't tell really what he thought of it—it was like his face was frozen in that huge, charming smile he has. I think maybe he wanted to laugh—I was pretty idiotic declaring my undying love for him like that.

I'm just so bad at things like that—talking about emotions and feelings with anyone besides Prim. For some reason, I have no trouble showing my affection to her, but that's a side of me that no one else gets to see. Now they're going to stick me in front of a bunch of cameras and a huge crowd of people and expect me to let everything show. It angers me and embarrasses me all at the same time. What right do they have to see what should be such a private moment? And what if I get it wrong? What will they do to me and Peeta? To the people of our District?

I mustn't fail.

This is it—the train is due any minute. I'm standing here at the station, wearing my best blue dress yet again. I'm standing between Peeta's family and my own, trying not to fidget.

Peeta's father has been his usual kind but quiet self. During the celebratory chaos in the town square after Peeta's victory, he had made a point to detach himself from the rest of the crowd to approach me. To my shock, he had engulfed me in a giant hug.

"Thank you," he had whispered in my ear. "For my son's life."

I had been speechless, simply nodding at him in response.

Much less shocking is the glare Peeta's mother is currently shooting me over her husband's shoulder. She obviously hates being in the debt of a Seam brat like me. Or maybe she just hates that her son hadn't chosen to bestow his affections on a perfect blonde-haired girl from the merchant class. Whatever it was, I know she will never like me, and never mind that I helped save his life. I wonder how much that will matter to Peeta.

Now she's doing all she can to ignore me. The Baker is standing between us, and he is a large enough man to hide me from her sight. On her other side stand Peeta's two older brothers, who had both introduced themselves formally with grins that reminded me painfully of Peeta. The middle one, Seth, had even shot me a saucy wink, and then had laughed when I blushed. At least they seem to like me.

Prim stands on my left, holding hands with our mother. The Hawthornes are somewhere back in the huge crowd that has gathered to welcome Peeta home. It seems all of District Twelve, aside from those on shift in the mines, is here. Gale is one of those in the mines. He had insisted to me that he couldn't get out of it—as one of the newest employees he always had to take the shifts no one else wanted, he had explained. But as I look over my shoulder I spy Thom, one of Gale's coworkers who started at the same time Gale did. I frown—it looks like maybe Gale could have come after all, if he had really wanted to.

I have no time to think about it, though, as we all hear the distant rumble of the approaching train. The crowd erupts into applause before the train is even in sight, and as it pulls into the station the cheers become deafening. I am frozen—I am not ready for this. I know I have a smile on my face, but it is completely for the cameras. In reality, I feel as though I might be sick at any moment.

The train pulls to a stop and there is a short pause before Effie Trinket steps out. I notice that the level of applause drastically lowers—Effie is not well liked here. Haymitch appears in the door next and the crowd goes wild. Our people love Haymitch, despite (or maybe because of) all his drunken, loutish ways. Simply put, he is one of us. Despite the sober tone I had detected on the phone, it seems Haymitch has gone back to the bottle now that the Games are over. He lurches off the train and takes two stumbling steps before falling flat on his face. The crowd roars with laughter as Effie and Mayor Undersee try to get him to his feet.

I am grateful to Haymitch—with all the cameras trained on him I allow my face to relax for a moment and take a deep, shuddering breath. Prim, my always sweet sister, puts her arm around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

In all of the chaos, I am the only one who notices Peeta. He's standing back from the steps off the train, hidden in the shadows. But I am close enough to see. His eyes meet mine, and I immediately know something is wrong. His face is blank, with no smile or twinkle in his eyes to greet me—only an empty mask. This is not the Peeta I know. I feel my own smile slip as I look at him.

Then Haymitch, who has apparently found his footing, bellows, "Peeta! Get out here, boy!"

Automatically a bright smile lights up Peeta's face as he steps down off the train, but I know now it's not real. The crowd roars as Peeta walks straight to me, takes me in his arms, and kisses me. This kiss is nothing like the kiss we had once shared—it is stiff and formal and insincere. The crowd screams its approval, so I guess we're fooling them. But I am not fooled—something in Peeta has changed since the day I said goodbye to him.

He breaks the kiss and whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry."

Before I can think of a response, he gives me another long kiss. Then I am left to try to cover my confusion as he moves away to greet the rest of his family. I fight to keep a smile on my face, remembering the cameras still pointed at me. Hopefully everyone watching will assume I'm simply flustered by Peeta's kiss. The love story must stay intact.

I'm afraid now that's all it is—a fabricated story. Because from what I can tell, Peeta doesn't love me anymore.

AN: There's no way I can adequately express my gratitude for all the kind reviews and PMs from people wishing me well after my illness, so I'm not really going to try. Just know that each and every one really meant a lot, and I defintely don't take any of it for granted!

My health is completely back, and so is my creative inspiration! The next chapter to this story is already well underway, so there won't be another long gap before another update, I promise!