Chapter 1: The Wedding

"Convince me."

The words echo in my head constantly.

"Convince me." And if you don't, I will kill everyone you love. I will destroy everything you hold dear.

I finger the luxurious fabric of my wedding dress, one of Cinna's exquisite creations, and sigh. According to reporters in the Capitol, the day after tomorrow will be the happiest day of my life. Even though I had never planned to get married, I always assumed that if I did, I would have been glad to do so. It's not as if I don't care for him. I possibly even love him. I just never had the option to decide that for myself.

I hear a knock at the door and Prim pokes her head in. "The prep team is here."

I nod and take a focused breath. After several hours of waxing, scrubbing, shining, and moisturizing, I am ready to be devoured by voracious cameras. My mother and sister undergo a less rigorous cleansing process. I can tell by Prim's glow that she's never felt prettier, so I tell her so, making her smile even more. My prep team chooses the finest clothing that my family owns, dresses that I bought them with my victory wealth. They still declared them to be barely suitable, but Cinna designed gowns complementary to mine for the actual ceremony, so these will be good enough just to travel to the Capitol. We won't have much camera time before the wedding anyway.

Outside we meet up with Effie, Haymitch, my fiancée Peeta, and his prep team. Peeta and I exchange terse smiles.

"Love birds," Effie chides, "show some excitement! You're getting married in two days!"

I give Effie a weak smile and slip my hand into Peeta's.

Peeta's family, including his oldest brother Ethan's wife and infant, meet us at the train station. They have been scrubbed down and prepped just like mine. His mother is the happiest I have ever seen her. "Aren't we lucky? Not many people from District Twelve get to visit the Capitol. And for such a fine occasion!"

An occasion where no one dies.

Prim is sitting next to me with her hands in her lap. "Yes, it is very kind of the Capitol to host my sister's wedding."

I smile at the woman my sister is becoming. She's so intuitive that I don't even need to explain to her the subtexts of this wedding. I can tell she's trying to hide her excitement at the chance to visit the Capitol. "The Capitol is a pretty impressive place, Prim. You're really going to love it."

She smiles at me with a blush. After that, she bubbles eagerly about our trip.

Peeta's brothers and father are more interested in the food than the luxurious amenities. My mother mostly stays by Prim's side, although she is occasionally preoccupied with Peeta's sister-in-law and her baby.

Effie informs us that the best man, the maid of honor—we chose Ethan and Prim—our parents, Peeta, and I must deliver individual speeches at our wedding. She hands everyone pre-written speeches. We grimace at Effie's writing, but Haymitch instructs us revise them for personal touches and sincerity and to confirm any revision with him. He quietly reminds Peeta and me that the purpose of this show is to convince the districts that our defiant actions in the arena were driven by desperate love and we are nothing but grateful to the Capitol for allowing us to be together. Peeta rewrites his easily, but my thoughts do not flow. Instead, I stare vacantly out of the window of the train. It will take us to the Capitol in less than a day. Every mile we pass brings me farther away from Gale.

That night, Peeta hears my screams and slips into my bed with me to calm my agitated dreams. I don't tell him that most of my dreams are about Gale, but I suspect he knows anyway. I wake up screaming Gale's name when President Snow drops a bomb on his house. One dream wakes me up shivering. I was hunting with Gale in the woods. I followed him, staring at his back, but he never turned around. My legs were too heavy to keep up and my voice dissipated before it left my throat. I reached for him, but he continued walking until he faded away, disappearing forever into the woods. When I wake up, Peeta is holding me tightly to his chest, trying to suppress my quaking. I try not to let him see that I am crying, but he sees and wipes away my tears. He doesn't ask why and I don't tell him.

The next morning, his mother catches him leaving my room. During breakfast she makes snide comments about the impropriety of an unmarried couple engaging in such behavior, all the while glaring at me. I ignore her until my mother interjects, "Yes, I'm so glad you raised Peeta to be such a gentleman. Otherwise I would never feel comfortable allowing him to spend the night with her. He's such a blessing to us, because Katniss has had such violent dreams since her father died. Peeta is so comforting to her." Mrs. Mellark's demeanor changes, and suddenly she's so delighted with her son and me. My mom continues, "We all get better sleep actually. Katniss used to wake up screaming. No more." Our mothers smile warmly at each other. Mrs. Mellark must be a heavy sleeper.

We arrive in the Capitol, and even Peeta's brothers are at the windows, chattering excitedly about how astonishing the gleaming city is. There are rooms prepared for us in the top two floors of the Tribute Tower. Our families are excited at the privilege of staying in such a decadent and famed locale, but I suspect that this is merely the Capitol's means of containing us. Can't have second-class citizens running loose in the Capitol, after all.

My family and I are situated in the top floor, and Peeta and his family on the floor beneath. Apparently, the rumors of Peeta and my tendency to sleep together have reached our wedding planners, so they placed us on different floors to deter the unseemly behavior. Even while forcing me to spend the rest of my life with Peeta, the interfering Capitol is taking away the only moments of intimacy that truly belong to us.

Even though her room is just as fine as my family's, Peeta's mother continuously grumbles at not receiving the Penthouse. She snipes that her family is just as important as mine until Haymitch says, "I think the attendants informed them of your concerns about propriety and told them that it would be better to put Peeta on the lower floor and make sure you are there to supervise him." Mrs. Mellark lifts her nose at this, clearly pleased believing someone considered her opinion important.

The day is filled with wedding preparations, interviews, public appearances, and, for some reason, a "rehearsal dinner." Thankfully, the guest list for the rehearsal dinner is small, at least by Capitol standards; however, the guests are no less intolerable. One guest in particular stands out in the detestable crowd: President Snow. The mere sight of him daunts me. My stomach contorts thinking about his rosy, bloody scent. Peeta grips my hand protectively.

He sits a few yards from me, close enough for me to smell the roses but not the blood. The scent is enough that I can't eat. Effie chastises me for my full plate. I tell her that the excitement and nervousness have taken away my appetite. I can feel his snaky eyes on me all night and I'm so tense I'm beginning to hurt.

We are not yet legal to drink, but we are allowed champagne for the toasts. I hear the chime of a fork on glass, and I almost jump out of my seat and run when I see President Snow stand up. He begins his toast, thanking all the guests for coming—apparently he's hosting this rehearsal dinner, a publicity stunt I would guess—and congratulating us. "These two children have shown us adults what it means to love, and I know that they will continue showing the world true love all their lives." His message to me could not be clearer. I smile as brightly as I can and lift my glass. Peeta kisses my cheek and wiggles his hand out of my grasp. I realize I had been gripping it painfully. I whisper my apologies and he leans his ear close to my mouth, making it look like a tender moment between us.

Effie makes her speech next, mainly gushing about how proud she is of her Victors.

Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia all deliver calculated speeches but with bits of truth that make me wonder if they don't actually believe our love story.

Haymitch, who has had the courtesy to stay relatively sober for his toast, said that I tried so hard not to care for Peeta, but I was smitten before the games even started. "Once the Game makers told Katniss she could keep Peeta, there was no going back. She's a little young so she's still a little dramatic. A piece of advice, Sweetheart: you don't need to resort to suicide every time you and your husband get into a fight." Everyone laughs. "Good luck, Peeta." More laughter. I don't appreciate much being painted like a silly, dramatic teenager, but I suppose it serves its purpose. Still, I don't think it's entirely inappropriate to scowl. Peeta chuckles and pulls me in for a good-natured hug and kiss.

Cinna jokes with a wink about me being his fashion protégé. He finishes with a statement that I'm not sure is calculated or genuine, "My life is all about inspiration. Katniss's fire inspires me. Peeta's goodness inspires her. Their love inspires all of us. Their dedication to each other is amazing."

Portia talks about how wonderful it has been to watch our relationship grow. She apparently recognized Peeta's feelings from the beginning and schemed to push us together.

Most of our styling team members take a turn to talk about working with us, although they glorify themselves more than us. I am already feeling like the number of speeches are in excess when people I don't know stand and give their accounts on how our relationship touched them or boast on whatever connection they have with us. By the end of it I'm certain that the true motive for toasts is not to congratulate the new couple but for attention and social distinction. I'm thankful that the dinner ends shortly after because I don't think I can hide my disgust much longer. I'm so sick of being used as recreation for these people's self-centered lives.

Back at the Tribute Tower, Peeta asks me to go to the roof with him. Still angry, I snap, "We're stuck together for the rest of our lives. Do you really want to start early?" I walk away from him and lock myself in my room. I'm immediately in tears, cursing myself. I have to remind myself not to take this out on Peeta. It's not easy for him either knowing the one he loves is only marrying him out of necessity. My bitterness, guilt, and loneliness keep me awake half the night.

The next day, once my prep team is done with me, Cinna checks my make-up and hair for final adjustments. He grips my shoulders. "Just remind yourself that this might have been the path you would've chosen. I don't like to tell people how they feel, but you love that boy."

I nod, even though his words don't help much.

"You've got this," he insisted.

"I don't even have my speech finished."

"You didn't finish your speech?"

"Well, I have what Effie wrote, but that isn't going to convince anyone." I sigh in frustration.

He smiles. "Let's see what we can do." An hour later, the prose is perfect, but I'm not confident I can pull it off convincingly. Cinna slips my gown on me. The silk gown, chosen by voters from the Capitol, is littered with pearls, wrapped around my neck, crowning my veil, and sewn right into the fabric. Cinna's creations are always so striking, and this beautiful dress is a shining example. I might have been glad to wear it had this wedding been my choice, but I would really prefer to wear a simple dress appropriate for a poor girl from District 12, adorned with my mother's single-strand pearl necklace. Compared to that pleasant simplicity, this dress is flamboyant, pretentious, and raucous. Cinna presses his forehead to mine. "I'm still betting on you, girl on fire."

I exhale and straighten my shoulders.

The wedding is an even grander event than I expected. More than a thousand Capitol citizens attend, yet no one from District 12 besides our families. The cathedral is so grandiose that I wish I could be visiting on a less requisite occasion. So many cameras are flashing at me as I approach the building that it is blinding even in full daylight. Inside, as if the decadently sculpted and painted interior was insufficient, the cathedral is decorated with mountainous flower arrangements in every empty corner, windowsill, shelf, and nook. Braids of ribbon and flowered vines twist up every pillar. Pink petals line the aisle.

A few high status reporters follow us into the bridal chamber and shove microphones in my face as I wait for the ceremony to begin. I force my mouth into a smile and try to answer their questions pleasantly and excitedly. After over an hour of this I send a pleading look to Effie, who ushers them away. I collapse back onto a luxurious white velvet chaise. Why couldn't we hold our forced wedding in our own home with our own customs, where we could at least feel like we own part of our lives? Would the Capitol citizens decide the names of our children as well? A chill runs through me, and I brush away the thought of the children I would be required to bear and, eventually, to give up to the Hunger Games. I'm certain the Reapings are often rigged to select Victor's children. The children of the only two Victors to ever win in the same year stand no chance.

Prim pets my hair, careful not to dishevel my ringlets and braids. She is just lovely in her silk pink dress adorned with pearls. Cinna's dress for my mother is simply perfect: a fitted satin beige dress that ends at the knee, the bodice embroidered with beige pearls, and an attached fitted jacket. I wish I could be wearing it.

I don't get to rest long. The church bells are ringing so the bridal party meets downstairs. Prim leads the march down the aisle, followed by my bridesmaids, two Capitol girls whom I don't know wearing similar dresses. Haymitch escorts me down the aisle, and I'm none-too-pleased that the Effie decided he would be the father-figure for me. I wish she had asked Cinna. Or asked me who I wanted. I start to tear up thinking of my father. I wish I could block out the cameras, but I remind myself to force a smile so the country will think I am crying out of joy. I see my mother standing in the first row. I smile at her, knowing it a big day for her despite the circumstances, and then I look toward the altar.

I'm stunned at how handsome Peeta is in his white tuxedo. The look on his face tells me that he is astonished at what Cinna has managed to do with me. I reach him and take his hand and he swallows visibly. We kneel in front of the altar and listen to the minister ramble on about marriage and devotion and mostly the glory of the Capitol. We stand again to recite our vows. As I say the vows that Effie wrote, I remember the disconnected feeling of my first kiss with Peeta, staged to elicit donations from sponsors, and how all I could register was how feverish his lips were. I slip the ring, designed by Cinna and Portia to complement mine, onto his finger.

Peeta's face is aglow with bliss. He is such a good actor, but I can see the grief in his eyes, even as he veils it behind genuine love. Despite his efforts, a tear slips from his eye as he looks down to place the ornate ring on my finger. The crowd coos and sighs.

I stare into the beautiful eyes of this wonderful man. He loves me so much, and I am causing him pain. Do I love him? Can I love him? I know I couldn't attain a better man, but is that enough? The unfairness of it all overwhelms me and I begin to tremble and cry. Peeta finds his strength in the need to comfort me. He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, catching my tears. He whispers so that only I hear, "We're in this together, ok?"

I don't know what exactly I feel for Peeta, but I know that I care for him and my feelings are so strong that I can barely speak, but I grip his hands and manage a hoarse whisper, "together."

He nods and doesn't hesitate when the minister instructs us to seal our vows with a kiss.

We smile and wave until we close the door to our limo. Then I deflate onto my seat and stare out my window. We're married now. I close my eyes and try not to think of Gale.

He has barely spoken to me, hardly looked at me, since Peeta proposed to me on live television, and now he got to watch us getting married on live television. No, Gale probably is in the woods avoiding the broadcast, but he is thinking of me, and I am thinking of him.

We arrive to the reception locale and Peeta tells me to wait as I reach for the door handle. He exits out of his side and, smiling broadly, opens my door for me. I can't help smiling back as he offers his hand to me. I take his hand and step out delicately. He then kisses my hand and leads me inside. He's so good at this.

The ballroom is in the fanciest place I have ever seen, even on TV. A pianist and string quartet at the far end of the room fill the room with angelic hums. The ceiling and walls are sculpted, carved, and painted in gold filigree. The recessed ceiling is a scene of clouds, birds, cherubs, and Rubenesque men draped in white fabric. They all look to be floating from the ceiling, not painted on. A crystal chandelier hangs above almost every table in the room and framing those are silk fabrics draped along the ceiling to look like flowers. Along the wall, columns and ruffled curtains frame alcoves that open into balconies. Marble statues of naked men and women are scattered throughout the room. I feel like I can't touch anything here, as if the soot that has permeated my pores from years of living in the Seam will seep out and stain the finery.

Even amid the entire splendor, my eyes almost immediately fixate on the table of food. I am famished and haven't eaten all day, but we don't get to eat yet. First, we have to pose for literally hundreds of photos. In front of a frilly backdrop, the photographers snaps multiple photos first of Peeta and me, then us with our parents, then with our entire family, then with the entire bridal party, then just my family, then just his family, then me with his family, he with mine, and dozens of other puerile combinations.

I wonder what they plan to do with all these photos, since my family owns maybe three photographs altogether. I shouldn't be surprised at this unnecessary triviality. This is the Capitol after all.

After the required photos come the required dances. A voice announces Peeta and my first dance as a married couple to "our song", but I wonder how it could be our song when I've never heard it. The lights dim and a spotlight beams on us. I really wouldn't mind if I weren't so hungry. I bite my lip and glance longingly at the buffet table. Peeta presses his lips to my temple and a chill runs up my spine.

"I'm hungry too, but you need to be in love with me and not food just for a few minutes," he whispers.

"Can I eat you then?" I whisper back.

He chuckles. "Sure, just maybe not in front of everyone." I blush.

Then our wedding director announces a dance with our new parents-in-law. Peeta grabs my mother's hands and pulls her onto the dance floor. She is glowing. She understands the forces at play, but even so, this is a big day for her. Besides, she completely adores Peeta.

I'm confused about what I should do until Peeta's father takes my hand, giving me a shy smile. I glance over at Peeta with my mom, look back to my new father-in-law, and return his smile. I decide that I actually like this custom. After a minute of dancing in silence, he says to me, "I have always admired you."

Much like me, the baker is a man of few words. While I wonder where it is that Peeta gets his remarkable eloquence from, I appreciate the taciturn nature of his father. I also know that it is to him that I can attribute Peeta's kindness. "Thank you for your son."

"No, thank you for my son."

The song ends and he squeezes my hand briefly. Somehow I know he understands that Peeta and I didn't choose this situation, but he is hopeful for us nonetheless.

The host then announces that the bride will now dance with her father and the groom with his mother. I frown. Can these Capitol people really be so insensitive and stupid? Peeta is looking at me worriedly as his mother, who is beaming in her fancy dress, takes his hands.

I turn when Haymitch taps me on the shoulder. "I think they mean me." He shrugs. "I gave you away after all."

My face plunges into a full scowl. Haymitch is not my father.

"I don't want to be your damn dad either, Sweetheart. But the Capitol wants us to dance together, and we have a show to put on." He tugs me into an embrace. "My daughter wouldn't be so damn stubborn."

"She'd be just as self-sufficient, since her father's drunk all the time," I snap.

Haymitch smiles at me venomously and squeezes my hand painfully. I wince and turn it into a smile.

We are finally done with all the posed photos and stupid Capitol customs and allowed to eat. I smile when I see that once again the Capitol chefs have prepared lamb stew for me. They've also made a special effort to include an extensive assortment of breads and decadent cakes.

I carefully load my plate with small portions to include the widest variety of delicious food, remembering the feast party on our Victory Tour. I grimace at the table devoted to numerous vials of vomit-inducing tonic, wishing they hadn't included those.

I sit next to Peeta at the bridal table. "Why didn't you get more food?" I know he must be as hungry as I am, but he has a very sparse sampling on his plate.

He swallows the bite he had been chewing. "I want to try all of the cakes and bread," he explains. The silverware is laid out so carefully that I feel uneasy disturbing it. He is finished before I am and heads to the table of cakes and begins to load his plate with a small sample of each.

Some women who want to comment on every feature of my dress stop me on my way to the dessert table. I smile and nod patiently and answer questions about my fake designing hobby.

Peeta interrupts holding a plate with a pink slice of cake with yellow frosting topped with raspberries. "Try this." He has figured out that my favorite fruit is raspberry. I smile and take a bite from the spoon Peeta holds out for me. He cooks for me enough to know my taste, but I am still amazed at how delicious the raspberry tart with a hint of lemon is. I moan emphatically. He smiles his beautiful smile. "I knew you would love it." I take the plate from him and he kisses my cheek as I am indulging in another bite. The women I was talking to are all touching their hearts, so moved at Peeta's gesture. He has returned to the cake table to talk to the baker, no doubt asking for the recipe.

After the crowd has had time to visit the buffet at least once, an Avox places glasses of champagne in front of us, and I notice that everyone in the room has one. Ethan stands and taps his glass, and it chimes throughout the room. Oh, right. Another round of toasts. I don't see the point of scheduling two separate toast events, but at least only the bridal party and parents are allowed to toast today. Ethan has a similar sense of humor to Peeta and teases him throughout the speech in typical big brother fashion. The crowd laughs at his accounts of Peeta watching me from the bushes, dropping a whole plate of buns when I walked into the bakery, and naming a pet cat Catniss. Peeta blushes bright red, so I know these stories are true.

Prim's toast makes me cry immediately. She states that our father's death left a hole in our lives, and Peeta has helped to fill that hole. "I don't think Katniss can see it but Peeta has changed her. It's so hard for Katniss to love someone, but Peeta broke through her defenses."

I've changed? I wonder if that's really true.

Then Peeta stands with a smile. "Well, first thanks to my brothers for their years of putting up with my unrequited crush on Katniss. As much as I tried to keep it a secret, somehow they figured it out. The teasing really helped me to not tell her for eleven years." The crowd laughs. "To my parents, you provided such a wonderful life to me and have always been supportive. Your love will serve as an example for our lives together." I force myself to smile wider, still impressed at how smoothly Peeta can lie. "To Effie, Haymitch, and our styling team, thank you all so much. None of this would be possible without you. I could go on and on about all the things each of you has done for us, but I don't want to." A woman in the audience honks with laughter and others chuckle. Peeta pauses, then takes my hand and looks me straight in the eye. "And finally, the woman I love. It hasn't been easy, and I'm sure you will never make it easy on me," -more laughter- "but I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy."

He kisses my hand then plants a soft kiss on my lips. I stand shakily. I still hate public speaking, but Cinna and I worked for hours getting this speech right. "First, thank you to the people of the Capitol who sponsored my wedding. Everything is all so beautiful. It's way more than a poor girl from District 12 could ever even dream." I pause to let the crowd applaud themselves. "Second, I need to thank the Game makers and especially President Snow for their generosity. I know every day that it's because of their compassion and sympathy for our tragic situation that it's possible for us to be together today. Thanks to you, I got married to the man I love today." I smile as brightly as I can manage as the crowd roars. When they quiet, I continue, "And I have one more 'thank you.' Peeta, you saved my life, before we ever even spoke. I wouldn't even be here today if it wasn't for your kindness and love." I trail off as something in my head clicks. "Prim's right. I spent years avoiding you, but I always noticed and kept track of the 'boy with the bread.' More and more I'm realizing how important you are to me. You got me through the worst times of my life; you gave me hope. You still give me hope, and I can't imagine living my life without you." I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze so that he knows I mean what I'm saying, even if I'm not sure it's out of anything more than friendship. I mouth to him, "together." For the cameras, I kiss him.

The Mellarks stand and toast together, although Peeta's mom dominates the speech. She talks about how they always thought I was a fine girl. She flatters herself for raising such a generous son and claims that they always try to help the needy. All of this is an outright lie. That woman was going to let me starve.

My mom stands. "First, thank you all for attending my daughter's wedding. I wish her father could be here. Katniss and her father had a very special connection, and he loved his girls so much. After losing him, Katniss had to grow up too fast. Peeta has taught her to trust again and to be vulnerable. I am seeing sides of her that I haven't seen since her father was alive. We are so glad to welcome Peeta into our family. He's already such an important part of our lives."

Some Avoxes roll out a large cake decorated with strands of candy pearls and candy feathers. I could tell Cinna had a hand in the design. On top are plastic carvings that look just like Peeta and me. We have to hold a knife together and cut the first slices of the cake and feed them to each other. I'm thinking that this is a ridiculous tradition, but Peeta puts some icing on my nose and makes everyone laugh.

The celebration continues for hours, longer than any wedding I've ever attended. I have to dance with politicians, Game Makers, Victors, designers, and lot of flamboyant people I don't know. The only dances I enjoy are with Peeta and Cinna. My aching smile collapses briefly as a stranger I don't care about congratulates us and gushes how pleased she is to meet us. Peeta thanks her then pulls me to him for a kiss.

"It looks like your cheeks are about to fall off," he whispers.

I sigh. "It is so obvious?"

He takes my hand. "Come on." He leads me to the floor and leaves me for a moment to speak to the band. They end their upbeat tune early and begin playing a slow, romantic tune.

"Relax for a little while, okay Kat? The band is going to play slow songs for us for a little while. Just close your eyes. No one is here. It's just you and me. You can even pretend I'm not here if it helps." He was saying this sincerely, always so generously considerate of my feelings even at the expense of his own.

I hide my face in his shoulder and allow the familiar warmth and security of Peeta's embrace to comfort me. All our nights together have me immediately at ease in his arms. It is not long before I have forgotten the crowd and this party and relax into his body. Suddenly, I'm all too aware of his athletic physique and his sexual allure that I'm always trying to ignore. I can't describe how I feel for this boy but I let myself melt into him. I inhale his masculine scent and smile thinking that somehow he always smells slightly of fresh bread. As my breath caresses his neck, he swallows palpably and I see the muscles in his neck ripple. I have an impetuous desire to kiss his neck, but then I remember I'm on camera and turn away, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. I see most of the crowd smiling at us adoringly so I close my eyes. I don't want to exit our intimate bubble however, so I rest my head on his shoulder and pull him as close to me as I can, desperately seeking that sanctuary again, but it is gone so I excuse myself to go to the restroom.

Even the restroom is one of the fanciest places I have ever been. I sink into a soft silk armchair and am thankful for once to my wedding planner for providing a private bathroom for the bridal party. Even so, I cannot truly relax because I know that my absence will not go unnoticed. I grimace thinking about the partiers and reporters speculating about my lengthy bathroom activities.

When I exit the bathroom, Peeta is dancing with a very beautiful Capitol woman. I press my lips together, trying not to appear as jealous as I feel. I see a few people chuckling at me. I realize that I should use this opportunity to demonstrate my love for Peeta, but they have no right to entertain themselves with my feelings, so I decide to distract myself with the buffet table instead, even though I'm still quite full. The song changes and I can't help but check if he's still dancing with her.

I'm relieved to see that Prim has stolen him away and I'm sure that she did so intentionally. She and Peeta seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves, and I smile thinking how fond they have become of one another. I'm suddenly so thankful to have them both alive and with me that I know I can't have any regrets. I would not change volunteering for Prim, and I would not change saving Peeta's life. Gale's face flashes in my mind, and I'm mournful for the loss of the potential life with him and possibly even his friendship, but the alternative is simply unthinkable.

I watch my sister, whom I love so much, and my husband, whom I care about more than I can describe and possibly love as well. I shake Gale from my mind. I have to let him go.

I'm suddenly unbearably lonely, so I cross the dance floor and wrap my arms around Peeta. Prim kisses Peeta and me on our cheeks and flits away. Peeta at first thinks I want to dance, but I just hold him, my feet planted on the ground.

He wraps me in a tight hug and whispers, "You okay?"

"I don't know," I say into his shirt.

We don't dance; we just hold each other and ignore the upbeat music and the chattering, laughing, swooning crowd. To the musician's credit, they begin playing slow songs for us, but we remain motionless in each other's arms.

Thankfully, Effie takes this as a sign that we are simply too exhausted to continue this party, which has been true for hours. It is long after midnight anyway and we yet have another "big, big, big" day ahead.

My new husband is now allowed to sleep in the same bed as me. I snuggle up to him wondering what exactly that means for us. It's been such an emotional and exhausting day that I can't stay awake long to mull it over.