The Hunger Games: Continued

Children?

Katniss' POV

The same night

I think about what Peeta said, about alternate universes.

Maybe there's a world where he and I are destined for an undeniable romance. Where I don't wake gasping from nightmares of mutts and lost children. Where he doesn't cling to a chair until a flashback passes. A world where stories end happily. Where we're married, where I never doubt him, where I give him children and everything he wants.

A world where I'm not myself — but someone perfect for Peeta. Someone who deserves him.

Some days, I think I should walk away. Let him find someone better. But then I wonder — what would become of me?

⸻

I lay awake in bed beside him. He's turned toward me, arm draped across my waist. I always fall asleep with my head on his chest, but it's not the first time I've woken like this. My eyes trace his face, his lashes, the curve of his lips.

I had a good day, I remind myself. It's important to record them. Today I laughed. Today I built a snowman. Today Peeta laughed with me. These are the things that keep me sane.

Without thinking, my hand moves to his face. I cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly. His eyes flutter open.

"I didn't mean to wake you," I whisper.

"Nightmare?" His voice is low, raspy with sleep.

"No. I just... can't sleep." I shift closer, lean to kiss him. He pulls back.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

I sink into the pillow, stung. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're acting strange. Are you sure you're alright?" His eyes search mine.

I ignore the question. "Peeta? Do you think... in another universe, we'd live happily ever after?"

"I don't know, Katniss. Aren't you happy now?"

"I am. I just mean a world without nightmares. Without venom attacks. A world where we're married. Where we have children. Where it's easy."

His gaze, heavy with sleep, sharpens. "You can still have that. If you want it."

My stomach twists. Do I want it? Marriage, maybe. But children? The thought terrifies me. His eyes wait expectantly. I can't tell him no. So I kiss him instead. It stops the questions, even if it gives him the wrong answer.

For a heartbeat, there's stillness. Then he kisses me back. He moves above me, and that hunger I felt on the beach roars to life again. His lips leave mine, trailing to my neck. Goosebumps scatter across my skin.

Has he done this before, with other girls? The thought sparks envy, but I force it away.

He pauses, looking down at me. "You know today was the first time you told me you love me," he says.

"No, it wasn't. I've told you before." My voice comes out defensive.

"I mean the words. Three of them. I love you." He presses a kiss to my cheek.

"Just because I took my time saying it doesn't mean I didn't feel it," I answer.

"When did you first feel it?"

I freeze. I don't know. Not exactly.

"One day it was just... there. When did you?"

"You know," he begins, "that day you sang in the assembly, your hair in two braids—"

"That's not love," I cut in. "You can't fall in love just by seeing a face or hearing a song. I could have been awful. That's like me saying I loved you just because your eyes are pretty."

He raises his brows. "So there was a moment. But you don't know when."

I sigh, embarrassed. "Fine. On the beach. When we kissed. That's when I admitted it to myself. I think it was there before, but... that's when I knew."

He kisses my forehead. "Alright. In the cave, we kissed a lot. But one kiss made me realise I loved you. I felt it. Really felt it."

I glance away, cheeks warm. "I felt it too."

Silence. Then, softly: "Wait... you think I have pretty eyes?"

I make a face at him. He grins, rolling off me to lie at my side.

After a pause, his voice comes quiet. "What do you want, Katniss? Where do you see us in ten years?"

I swallow. "I want you. I don't know where I see us. But I know where I want to see us."

"Where's that?"

"You go first."

He considers. "In ten years, I want us happy. Married. With children."

The words hit hard. Another reason to walk away — for his own good. He deserves that future. But children? I don't want to bring them into a world like this.

"Okay," I say at last. "I want us married. In love. Happy."

"No children?" His voice is soft, hopeful.

"We'll see." I press a kiss to his lips, ending the conversation. "Goodnight."