~Chapter 1~

My eyelids flutter open at the empty feel of the bed beside me. I pat my hand along the length of the sheet as far as I can reach down without moving, still feeling nothing. My eyelids had closed during this motion, but snap open, waiting and alert, for the sight of my baby sleeping next to me.

I roll over again, this time to my right, and shake hard on Peeta's arm. "Peeta," I whisper. "Peeta!"

He mumbles something unintelligible and rolls over before falling back asleep. At least trying to. "Peeta!" I say, shaking him roughly on the arm.

He looks up at me, his eyelids sagging with sleep. "What is it, Katniss?"

I pause.

"Katniss?" Now he's awake, and I mean fully awake, his eyes wide open and his head searching around for the reason I am upset.

"She's gone. Where is she?" I ask, tears pooling up in my eyes.

"Who?" he asks dumbly.

"Our daughter!" I yell.

"Oh, I took her out to day care. You know, we can afford that," he states matter of factly.

I stare at him, my mouth gaping open.

"What?" he asks.

"You took... Our daughter... To day care?" I exclaim.

"Yes, Katniss, I did. You know, I think it's about time you get over your aversion to other people caring for her. No one's going to hurt her," Peeta tells me.

I pause.

"Why are you so upset?" he asks. He searches my eyes for an answer before I speak.

"You know why," I whisper.

"Katniss, get some sleep. It's still early. I'll wake you before I leave for work."

An hour later, I am woken by whispered words. "I'm going to work, honey. I'll be back before you know it. I'll pick up Maysilee."

My eyelids start to close, but after he leaves I get up out of the soft bed. Maysilee. Our daughter. Our two-year-old daughter that wouldn't know the difference between night and day if it wasn't for Peeta, who occasionally sneaks her out of the house to go to day care.

My beautiful baby girl, already getting ready for her third year of life. When she turns five, the district will require her to go to day school for three hours daily, getting the weekend off, of course.

I am what my mother would call overly protective of my child. She is my only baby girl, and although she is everything I want in life and more, I do not want anymore children. Maysi is a blessing to me, but I just can't have another.

I walk downstairs and grab a nutrition bar, sent from my mother, who now works in a hospital down in the Capital. Try as you will, she won't come back to District 12. Maybe it has too many bad memories stored in its depths.

I then sit down on the couch, curling up against the arm. I flip the channels on our television, and, finding nothing to watch, decide to get up. I go into the study of our home in the Victors Village. I see Maysi's pink baby book lying on the big velvet chair that we hardly ever use, and pick it up. As soon as it is opened, i see the neatly printed birth certificate. Maysilee Rue Mellark, born July 11. Flipping through the pages, I see my daughter as she grows in each picture, and soon enough I'm seeing a blank page.

I grab a picture of her out of the desk drawer and stuff it in the slot, not wanting the book to be empty.

I can't take it anymore. I run outside into the driveway and walk quickly towards the day care center that Maysilee attends.

I open the glass door that has been newly renovated after the war. Right in front of me is the receptionists' desk. I walk up calmly and the secretary looks up. "How may I help you?" she asks, smiling while looking at me over her glasses, which have slid down her nose.

"I need to pick up my daughter," I say, trying to sound as formal as possible.

"Name?" she asks, looking down at her clipboard.

"Katniss Everdeen."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you're not on the list," she says.

"How is that possible?" I ask, feeling myself get angrier and angrier as the clock ticks.

"Well, I don't know, honey," the old woman says, brushing a few pieces of silvery hair off her forehead. For a moment, we scale each other, wondering how to handle the situation. Finally, she speaks. "May I have the name of your child?"

I sigh loudly and roll my eyes. "Maysilee Everdeen."

She looks down at the clipboard again and flips a couple of pages back before saying, "There is no Maysilee Everdeen here."

I stare at her with squinted eyes. I stare for a second, thinking. Then I realize what I've done wrong. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maysilee Mellark," I say.

The woman looks at me, obviously unconvinced, but my face must show some degree of truth, because she speaks. "Maysilee is in Room 4, with Mrs. Trocoper."

"Thank you," I say, forcing a smile at the insistent woman.

I walk into the room and a young lady who must be the teacher stands from her desk. She walks over to me, smiling. "How may I help you today, ma'am?"

"I'm here to get Maysilee," I say.

"Oh, yes ma'am. I'll get her things. If you'd like to see her work, her table is right over there," she says with a big, white smile.

"Thank you," I reply, walking straight over to the seat.

She looks up as soon as she sees me. "Mommy!" she exclaims, jumping up into my arms. She wraps her chubby little toddler legs around me and smiles hugely.

"Hey, Maysi May."

"Mrs. Mellark-" the teacher begins.

"Everdeen," I correct.

"Excuse me. Mrs. Everdeen, this is Maysilee's book bag and this is a little gift I've bought her for her birthday. She said it's on Sunday...?"

"Yes," I say, smiling. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow, Maysilee!" she says.

Maysi waves and says, "Bye, Miss Trocoper!" Then we head home.

I put Maysi down for a nap after feeding her lunch, then go lay down on the couch. I am woken a few minutes later by keys rattling in the lock. Peeta, my fiancée, is home early. I rise and sit up on the couch. He walks immediately over to me once the door opens.

"Hey, sweetie," I say tiredly.

"Hey. You have Maysi?" he asks irritably in response.

"Yeah. I fed her lunch and everything. Why are you home so early?"

"Thought I'd take her home early only to find out you already had."

"I'm sorry, Peeta. I was so lonely and-"

"Then why didn't you come down and work with me?"

I know this has to be some kind of a trick question. "Me? Baking? Come on, Peeta, please," I say.

"I could teach you," he says in defense of his obviously not thought through words.

"Peeta, you know I can't bake," I say in reply.

He sighs, and hesitates before saying, "But you can kiss." He moves over to kiss me lightly and quickly on the cheek before going off to cook dinner.

When he comes back, the smell of macaroni and cheese floats through the air.

"Did you send out the party invitations today?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply, going over to the refrigerator and grabbing a jug of milk. I pour some into a glass and drink it happily.

"You invited everyone on the list?" he asks suspiciously, knowing that I didn't want to invite some of them.

I sigh loudly enough do he can hear. "Yes, Peeta. I sent them to everyone. When are you going to start trusting me?"

He puts his arms around me and I rest my chin on his hands, which are clasped around my shoulders. "As soon as you trust me."

I know he's referring to our earlier conversation about day care, and decide now is a good time to change the subject. But for some reason, I continue on.

"I do trust you," I say.

"Prove it," he says, smiling.

"I love you," I reply, pulling him into a kiss.