Months go by and the strange formality of life in district thirteen becomes routine. I am now thirty weeks pregnant.
Sighing, I close the heavy, metal doors behind me as I leave a conference room which Plutarch and Coin use to hold meetings. Peeta's suspicions were correct; they are planning to go and rescue the hostages in the capitol. At the mere thought of those people suffering, maybe even being tortured for information, all because of me, makes me feel sick with guilt.
I make my way back to the apartment in a daze. I push open a door and there, right in front of me is Haymitch. Kissing Effie Trinket.
"Um," I say awkwardly, "wrong room."
I turn and walk quickly away, entering Peeta's and my apartment. He's in training and won't be back for around an hour. Just as I sit down, there is a soft knock on the door. Definitely not Haymitch (he practically punches it) and why would Peeta knock?
"Come in," I say.
The door opens and Effie walks in. I've only seen her a couple of times since the games. Her cheeks are flushed and she is avoiding my eyes.
She comes over to me and sits down in the plastic chair.
"Sorry you had to see that, we were going to tell you and Peeta, we just didn't really know how." She sounds genuinely distressed.
"Effie," I say, "It's ok. Really, it's fine. You deserve to be happy."
"Thank you, Katniss," she says, smiling, "I know it must be hard for you."
I look away, not wanting her to see the pain written all over my face. Despite my efforts to push away her support, she reaches out to cup my cheek with her hand.
"Katniss," she pleads.
Eventually, I face her and the tears in my eyes begin to fall. She hugs me as closely as she can with my massive bump in the way. I pull away to wipe my eyes.
"She was a girl," my voice is cut off by another round of hysterical sobbing.