My first instinct upon waking up was to roll over to check on her. The bed beside me was warm, and she wasn't shifting around, so at least I knew she hadn't crawled out of bed and joined our mother instead as she sometimes did when she had a bad dream.

As I turned, my heart skipped a beat and it felt as if someone punched me square in the gut. It wasn't Prim beside me at all. Though the hair and eye colors were close, the similarities ended there. "Good morning," he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

It took a moment for my mantra to come to me, and an even longer moment to repeat it to myself. Who I was, where I was, what had happened here in the past, how Peeta and I had ended up here, together. Sadness washed through me as I realized I would never be sharing my bed with Prim again. She would never curl up against me for protection through the night. She would never be there again, period.

No matter how much time passed, I wasn't sure if I would ever entirely get used to this new life, much less find a way to enjoy it. Though I didn't miss the hunger and the struggle of living in the Seam, I missed my home and my family. I even missed the sight of Buttercup plopped protectively on Prim's knees, even if he thought he was protecting her from me.

"What are you thinking?" Peeta asked, jarring me back to the present. Away from our small home in the Seam that no longer existed and back to the humongous house in the Victors' Village that we would never be able to fill.

"Trying to come back to reality," I told him, stifling a yawn. Then, because I felt I owed him the truth instead of a vague answer, I added, "Trying to come back to the present instead of waking up in the past."

He shifted in the bed, puffing the pillow up beneath his head and releasing a yawn of his own. I wondered how long he'd been awake, and what he had been doing in that time. "Prim?" he asked softly.

I nodded. Of course he would ask, because of course it was true. I was a predictable creature, and one way or another it always led back to Prim. Was it really so terrible? I would have felt guilty if it were the other way around. She was the only person I had ever, truly loved except for perhaps my father, and I had never felt responsible for taking care of my father.

"I'm sure she's watching over you, right now. Returning the favor for all the times you watched over her."

Except for the one time when it mattered. Except for the time when I wasn't there to protect her, and it got her killed. But the words don't leave my month, because it was too early in the morning for an argument and I still had hopes for a good day. I also didn't want to get into a debate about what happened after we died, if the possibility for Prim to watch over me was even possible. Instead, I plastered on a fake smile. I told him I was sure he was right. And then I asked if he could use a spare set of hands working on the bakery for the day.

It was time for me to stop being so selfish. It was time to test the waters and see if I could ever let anyone else into my heart the way Prim had always held it. In a different way, of course, but with as much force and compassion. Peeta's bakery project was not going away, and it hadn't caused even the slightest hint of a breakdown on his part. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect. He seemed in happier spirits, as if the purpose of the bakery helped lift the demons from his shoulders and remind him of who he truly was. It was time I tried to stop burdening him with my own.