“Ok fine. About what exactly?” But before he can tell me I continue. “Perhaps the fact that you went to see Snow? Without even bothering to tell me? After we agreed one hundred percent that we would see him together?” Cato cuts in, “I never saw Snow.”
“Then what was that in the interv--”
“I said that to put a thought in Snow’s mind as well as further our cause to crush the rebellion.”
I don’t know what to say.. But it becomes clear that I don’t have to as Cato continues, “And what about you Clove? Don’t you have something to tell me?” he begins to pace on the sky blue carpet. I’m at a loss. Im not hiding anything so what could he be ranting about? Cato stops walking and glares at me. “Something about,” Cato stops, takes a deep breath and points a shaking hand to my belly, “the baby?” he finishes.Well if he’s shaking he’s either majorly scared or he’s almost lost control of his temper. But I’m still confused. “What about the baby?” I ask.
“Don’t play dumb Clove!!” He yells, punching a nearby unfortunate wall with his fist, leaving a massive dent in it. I back up and stumble, falling into a chair. I’m scared now. I haven’t seen him this angry since the 74th Games. I’m afraid to ask what’s wrong. The silence drags on, the minutes passing. Cato’s back is to me. I want to get up and hug him but I don’t. Something holds me back, my fear maybe? But still I hate the silence, filling up the seemingly rapidly growing gap between me and my beloved. Cato turns back to me, his hands still shaking. I look up at his handsome face to see his eyes filled with tears. One has already fallen off of his face. He whispers, his voice shaking, “When were you going to tell me Clove? When were you going to tell me the baby isn’t mine?”
I can’t help it. My jaw drops in complete shock. What?? How could he possibly think that? And where did it come from? I cover my mouth with my hand whispering, “What?” Cato’s tears begin to spill, mine falling as well he speaks again, “I know Clove. The doctor told me before we left. But… why? Why did you do it? Was it because I’m not a good enough husband? A good enough man?” My eyes are so blurry with tears it’s hard to see his figure. I carefully stand up and walk forward, halting in front of him, teats falling down my cold cheeks. I wipe them from my eyes so that I can see him. “I swear Cato,” I begin. “I have never ever been with another man in my life. The doctor, whoever it was, lied to you. I will never want another man. I want my husband, I want you Cato, and that will never change.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him, holding his face in my hands. But barely a few seconds have passed when he steps back. Cato is still crying as he whispers, my heart breaking, “I’m sorry Clove. I need time to think.” And with those words, he leaves, closing the door behind him. Leaving me to pick up the breaking pieces of my shocked heart.
