Chapter Text
It seems to be just another quiet evening in front of the fireplace when I tell Peeta:
“I think we should buy a pregnancy test.”
I can feel his body jump beside mine.
I've been falling asleep in his arms every evening, and he probably expected to carry me to bed in a few minutes instead of hearing something so life-changing. Not that he doesn’t welcome it.
“You think…?” There’s no mistaking the glint in his eyes.
“I’ve been late for a few days now,” I reply.
He smiles. It is such a beautiful, endearing smile that it makes me wish I hadn't said anything. But he’s the person I always want to tell everything, I can’t help it.
“Really?” he asks.
I nod.
His hand finds mine. “Katniss.”
There it is, that tone, so hopeful and eager.
I already know what he is thinking: Peeta has been talking about children for a year now. He really wants them, even more than he wants us to get married. As for me, I always say I don’t know, we’ll see, maybe next year…
Looking down, I notice his feet.
One of them - the good one - is covered by a black sock. The other has one of my light-blue socks with tiny unicorns on it. It takes me back to a Saturday afternoon, a few months ago, when he brought our washed and neatly folded clothes to their respective drawers.
“Why are my socks in your drawer?” Peeta had asked.
“They're comfortable,” I had replied. Truth be told, I had lost every matching pair of mine and now I only had mismatched socks. For that reason I had stolen some of Peeta’s.
“They're mine,” he said.
“Not anymore.”
He'd stared at me with a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Give them back.”
“No.”
He'd lunged at me then, and I'd barely had time to squeal before his fingers found my ribs. I'd laughed until I couldn't breathe, twisting away from him and trying to kick him off the bed. “Say the socks are mine!”
“Fine!” I'd finally gasped. “You can borrow them anytime you want!”
Somehow, it had ended with us in bed for some time, no longer interested in socks.
Now, months later, we've somehow managed to lose all of them. I don't know where my socks go; I don't know where his go. There isn't a single complete pair in either of our drawers anymore.
“You're smiling,” Peeta says.
He looks so pleased with himself that I almost laugh.
“Why are you staring at me?"
“Because you might be pregnant with my baby.”
The words hit me like a blow and my stomach turns.
I imagine Peeta holding a tiny newborn against his chest, smiling this same beautiful smile and giving me the baby to hold. Our baby.
My heart begins to beat faster. I try to take a deep breath, but it catches somewhere in my chest.
Two years and two months ago, when I agreed to come back home after our separation, I convinced myself it would be temporary. It was just until I could overcome my feelings for him. I’d leave as soon as the idea of losing him stopped hurting so damn much. I told myself that I just needed to get strong enough to leave without feeling like I was tearing parts of my own body.
But my feelings for Peeta never subsided. It was almost frightening how easily we fell back into our old life. If anything, we plunged back into such a wholesome existence together that they became worse.
So, one year after I returned, I changed the plan.
I told myself I would stay until I found someone better than him, a man who would make leaving Peeta easy. I would fall in love with that man, and then I wouldn't have to miss Peeta anymore.
But another year has passed, and I’ve had no such luck.
It appears that good men don’t come to women who aren’t actively looking for them. Which is almost an impossible thing to do when you are in a relationship.
It’s unhinged, now that I think it out loud. But he was the one who made me this way.
So I’m still sleeping beside Peeta, kissing and being kissed by him, reaching for him to protect me from my nightmares; waking to find his arms around me, hearing him call my name from the other room and watching him smile when I laugh about his jokes.
In a way, it’s like it used to be. He still knows how I like everything. He keeps stealing my blankets in his sleep, and I keep kicking him when he does. He still reaches for my hands under the sheets in the same way he used to. Before -
In the mornings, when I wake up with my face pressed against his chest, it’s too easy to forget that we have ever been apart. In the evenings we cook together and I always catch myself laughing so hard that my stomach hurts. We lie together on the sofa, his head in my lap, my fingers running absently through his hair until I fall asleep and he carries me to bed, where we may, or may not… do things.
A child would change everything. We’d be tied together forever. There would be no more waiting until I found someone else, no imagining that one day I might wake up and finally be free of him and this life.
To be the mother of his child. What next, his wife? His family… forever?
No. I can't do it. I can't -
Peeta’s smile falters. "Katniss, what’s going on?"
I shake my head. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine."
Peeta goes very quiet then. He is watching me, and it’s clear by the furrowed brow and slightly parted mouth that his happiness is gone.
It’s concern he feels right now. He knows. He has seen this before.
Maybe it’s that realization, that we’re both thinking about the same unspeakable thing, that makes me start crying and push him away from me.
“I don’t want to have your child!” I blurt out.
Peeta, who has gone completely still, flashes a frown full of disappointment. Then, his expression changes to something that looks more like pain as he slowly nods.
I want to take the words back, not because I don't mean them – because I do – but because I can’t bear to see him looking this wounded.
Of course I can’t tell him that. I can't even breathe.
Peeta looks down and, without another word, reaches for his shoes.
"Peeta," I say.
He looks at me. "I'm going to buy the test. Do you need anything from the store?"
“No.”
He pulls on his coat. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
He opens the door, and cold air rushes into the room before he's gone.
I sit frozen on the sofa.
He loves me, I know that. He has never given me a reason to doubt him since we got back together. He has been faithful and kind. He’s my best friend. He’s the person I reach for when I'm afraid. I know I can't be happy without him in my life. I know. I tried.
But trusting him?
I’d be lying if I said that I don't wake up some mornings and think I should have never come back. Some nights I can’t avoid staring at him while he sleeps, finding that I hate him like I never hated anyone before.
Peeta has spent two years trying to prove that he is not the man who hurt me, but I know what he is capable of.
Once a cheater, always a cheater.