I looked out the small window at the lake as I washed our dishes from breakfast. It was still early morning, and the lake still had a thin layer of mist rising off of it as the heat of the summer day increased slowly. I sigh, and smile, thinking that my life can't get much more perfect.
My name is Katniss Mellark, Hunger Games victor, former symbol of the rebellion, and most importantly, wife to Peeta Mellark.
It didn't take long for us to come back together once Peeta got back from the Capitol. We gravitated towards each other – as if it was a force of nature – not that either of us minded in the least. He stemmed the flood of nightmares that haunted my nights, I brought him back when he lost himself to the hijacking. Eventually, it got better as we learned to move forward and live our lives, not dwelling in the past, but never forgetting.
Our relationship developed quickly. It started as a close bond of friendship. After all we'd been through together, the foundation was there and it was rock solid. Soon, though, we were kissing. Small pecks after a nightmare, a kiss on the forehead when one of us woke up.
One night, all the pent up passion, frustration, and need from our years of tumultuous events exploded into a night that neither of us won't ever forget. I will always remember the look in his eye as I stood up off the bed and shed every article of clothing, shyly looking down at him, silently asking if it was okay. He responded by simply pulling me down to him and locking his lips to mine. It was the first time for both of us, and even though it started a little awkwardly, it soon became something only two people deeply, irrevocably in love can share.
In the middle of that first, exhilarating time, I made a decision. I was on my back, Peeta above me, my legs locked around his hips, begging him to go deeper, needing every bit of him. Suddenly he stopped, looking down at me with a somewhat puzzled expression.
"What is it?" I asked, timid.
"You're crying," he pointed out, wiping a single tear from my cheek. "Why?"
It took me but a second to answer, firmly, never questioning what I was about to do.
"I want to be your wife."
That's how Peeta and I got engaged.
Our wedding was small, simple, and perfect. We had it by the lake, where my father had taught me how to swim, where Peeta and I had spent countless days together. The only other people there were the new mayor and Haymitch. We said our vows, exchanged simple gold wedding bands, and we were joined in matrimony. It wasn't until we went home, sat by the fire, and had our toasting that we both felt actually married. That was also the night Peeta revealed his idea – for us to build a house by the lake – somewhere he and I could live our lives in peace.
Now, almost five years after the war ended, I could not be any happier. Our days are spent together, fishing, hunting, reading, writing, painting, baking. He actually taught me how to paint somewhat, something I now greatly enjoy. While Peeta can capture the soul of someone on canvas, he swears I can capture a feeling when I paint a sunset. I do it because I know how much he loves them. After many tries, I finally taught Peeta how to hunt. To get around his inevitable loud gait, we set up blinds high up in the trees. We spend hours up there, quietly whispering to one another, most of the time not really caring whether or not we bagged any game.
Our love has only grown in these few short years. When I married Peeta, I thought I couldn't possibly love him any more. Now I know how very wrong I was. He is my other half, my complement, the very reason for my existence. And however improbable I may sometimes feel it is, I know he feels exactly the same way about me. Every 'I love you' means that much more, every time we make love is the very highlight of my life, every morning when I wake up and see him I cannot fathom a life without him.
Peeta only asked me about having kids once, before we got married. I laid out my fears about raising a family, and even though I could see the hurt in his eyes, he accepted it. He assured me that if I never changed my mind, a life with me would be more than perfect, more than he could ever want. I didn't ask him to, but he never brought it up again.
That is, until I decided it was time.
He was back in the District, running a few errands, while I was at home. I had been thinking a lot about it recently, how wonderful it would be to share something so special with my husband. I knew how happy it would make him, and what surprised me was how happy the mere thought of kids made me. The swell of love inside me as I thought about raising a family, being a mother, made me resolute. I could not wait for my husband to get home.
When Peeta returned that day, I was on the front porch waiting for him. I was wearing my silk robe, the one that always made Peeta hot and heavy. He was already smiling brightly at me as he approached, and when he was a few feet from me, I silently untied my robe and let it slip off me, leaving me exposed and completely naked for my husband. He rushed to me, trying to cover me up, protecting me. I giggled, reminding him how alone we were.
"Katniss! What are you doing?" He asked me frantically.
I reached up and kissed him hard, and he had no choice but to respond. When our lips parted, I moved my mouth to his ear, and whispered.
"Take your clothes off and let's make a baby."
His eyes nearly bugged out his head when his brain processed my statement.
"Kat, are you – are you sure?" He stuttered.
I pouted, planting my fists on my hips, tapping my foot impatiently. When he didn't immediately respond, still looking bewildered, I reached out and snapped open the button on his jeans, forcefully lowering the zipper. He finally came to his senses and reached for the hem of his shirt before my hands stopped him.
"Let me," I pleaded. He nodded, and I took his shirt and the rest of his clothes off, leaving both of us ready and willing.
We made love right there on the bench on the front porch, letting ourselves melt into each other, knowing that this was something so different and so special, because we were trying to conceive.
Now, I am a few months along. A couple weeks ago, as we lay spent in our bed after yet another round of lovemaking, Peeta excitedly pointed out the tiny, slight swell of my belly.
"Katniss! That's our baby! Right there!"
He leaned over and gently kissed the bump, bringing tears to my eyes.
"I love you," I barely eeked out, threading my fingers through his thick blonde hair.
"I love you too baby, so much," he answered, finally making his way up to my face and kissing me sweetly and softly.
Today, Peeta left after breakfast to go check the snare lines to see if we caught anything. We get a lot of supplies from the District, but we try to be as self-sufficient as we can. We've made our own life out here, in the woods by the lake, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in this earthly world.
Suddenly, I heard a forceful knock on the door. Who the heck could that be? We almost never get visitors, and the ones that do rarely come out have learned to make sure we know beforehand. Haymitch learned that lesson first hand when he got close to the house and clearly heard us screaming each other's names and gasping in the throes of passion.
I walked through the house to the front door, wondering who had decided to come out all this way.
When I swung the door open, nothing could prepare me for the man that stood on the other side.
Gale.
He had his arms open, as if he was expecting me to run into his embrace, a smug smile on his face.
"Catnip! I finally made it! I can't believe you built our house out here!"
I couldn't believe it. Five years ago he just up and left, not even bothering to say goodbye. Granted, I was furious with him, but I never thought my friend would just abandon me. I have gotten over his role in Prim's death, with a lot of help from my husband, and now my anger at him has a lot more to do with his actions towards me. How he tried to get close to me in 13 when Peeta was in captivity, attempting to slyly use his absence to try and somehow win my heart. How he had never really accepted my love for Peeta, always looking at him warily and me expectantly, as if I would one day run into his arms and proclaim my undying love. How he abandoned me, broken, depressed, and mourning, and never once tried to call or visit or reconcile.
"My name is Katniss," I snarled. "Mrs. Mellark to you." I raised my left hand up, making sure he saw the gold band wrapped around my ring finger.
"There's no need to pretend with me," he angrily responded. "I came back for you. I know you love me, and you just married Peeta because I wasn't here. Well, I'm back, so we can start our life together now."
This wasn't the Gale I knew as a teenager. This was a shell of that man – his mind and soul ravaged by war, twisted by the horrors. Even though I knew I couldn't really blame him, his attitude infuriated me. Scratch that, I blame him.
While I pondered my response, not wanting to further anger him, he actually tried to lean in and kiss me, his lips puckered, his eyes sliding shut. Before he got remotely close, I reached back and slapped him with my left hand, making sure my ring made good contact with his face. He reeled back, the rage returning to his gaze.
He lifted his hand to hit me, and I instinctually covered my abdomen with both hands, motherly instinct causing me to automatically protect mine and Peeta's child.
Gale froze, his eyes wandering down to my stomach.
"What the fuck is that!"
I swallowed, trying my hardest to stay calm.
"You actually let that psycho touch you? Rape you? That should be my child inside you! I should be the one on top of you every night!"
That was it. I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. I was the girl on fire, after all.
"Gale, Peeta and I are starting a family. If you want, I would like to calmly sit down with you and discuss what has happened to our friendship. I never thought it would come to this, but you need to accept the fact that I am married to Peeta. I will always be his wife and the mother of his children. I could never love another."
"That's just fucking great, Katniss. You actually let him brainwash you. This is going to be harder than I thought," he said, actually starting to scare me.
He reached out and grabbed my arm with anger, trying to pull me out of my house, away from my life with Peeta. This, I would not allow. Any hopes of reconciling my friendship with Gale had now long been abandoned. I saw only one option.
I reared back and with all the rage I could muster, kicked him square in the balls.
He let me go, his hands flying to his crotch, his body failing him as he fell to his knees.
I didn't waste the opportunity. I had survived two Hunger Games. I knew how to fight. I punched him hard in the face, and he collapsed in a heap onto the porch, grasping onto the last vestiges of his consciousness.
I leaned down, close to his face so I could make sure he heard every word I was about to speak.
"If you ever, and I mean ever, come near me or my family again, I will put an arrow right between your eyes. And Gale, you of all people know that I will not miss. My husband will be home any minute, and when he shows up, I'm going to show him exactly how much I've missed him. You'd better be gone when I come back outside."
That's when I saw the light of my life emerge from the woods. His eyes showed the surprise at seeing Gale crumpled on our front porch and me standing over him with a look of triumph on my face.
"What happened?" Peeta asked gently as he approached.
"His visit didn't go the way he planned," I simply responded. "Now come inside, I've missed my baby's daddy."
Peeta looked down at Gale, a fleeting look of pity appearing across his features. It was quickly replaced with anger as he understood the situation, and realized the only way I would react that violently was if my or our baby's safety was compromised. He simply stepped over Gale and into my arms, neither of us looking back as we slammed the door behind us.
I made sure to be extra loud, so that when the piece of garbage on our front porch woke up, he'd know that I made my choice long ago.