Chapter 339
That night I hardly slept, and although Katniss beside me was breathing evenly, I sensed that she had hardly slept either. The situation between us as a couple was very strange now; clearly, both of us were preoccupied with our own thoughts, yet we clung tightly to each other.
Perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps to avoid arousing suspicion, I maintained the same position all night, even though I used to love tossing and turning in my sleep.
The next morning, as I was about to go to sleep, I noticed that Katniss had already gotten out of bed.
After Katniss got out of bed, she started getting ready and preparing breakfast. I thought about getting up to freshen up, but I couldn't face Katniss. It wasn't until Katniss called me to come eat that I finally got up. As I looked at my red and weak self in the mirror in the bathroom, I felt very worried and conflicted. All of this was the result of my own actions, so who could I blame? At the breakfast table, Katniss seemed perfectly normal, chatting with me as usual, but my guilty conscience made me avoid eye contact and distracted.
At work, I couldn't focus at all. I really didn't know what Katniss was thinking. Was all of this just a dream? What was real and what was a dream? Maybe Katniss was just trying to torture me, and it seemed to be working. If Katniss and I were to confront each other directly, no matter the outcome, at least there would be closure. But by not being clear about anything, I was left here to speculate wildly, looking haggard and suspicious. Perhaps this was a form of torture I brought upon myself.
In the evening, everything seemed normal. Katniss waited for me to come home for dinner, but I remained silent at the dinner table. The same went for bedtime, with Katniss snuggling up to me, holding onto my arm. I didn't dare move a muscle until my arm went numb.
The next day, at noon at work, unable to contain my curiosity and seeking answers, I had to resort to the only platform available - the surveillance cameras.
I turned on the monitoring devices because when I was at home, I usually avoided Katniss's gaze, so most of the time I couldn't see her eyes or expressions. But through the surveillance video, I noticed that Katniss, at the dining table and at times when I couldn't see her, occasionally had a cold look in her eyes. I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but I always felt a hint of indifference in Katniss's eyes.
If the coldness in Katniss's eyes wasn't my imagination, then it confirmed that Katniss was intentionally doing this, torturing me as a form of revenge.
By the third day, I couldn't take it anymore. After the night passed and I lay alone in bed, Katniss was tidying up the room and then taking a shower. Now, in the quietness, I had ample time to think.
I had been thinking about what to say in my mind, while also psyching myself up. No matter what, I needed to have the courage to speak up. It could end in separation, but I had been through worse.
"Katniss, let's talk." As Katniss lay in bed, snuggled up to me, I moved my arm from my forehead and spoke. The room was now dark, and not being able to see each other seemed to give me some courage. My voice was not loud, but in the quiet night, it sounded abrupt and clear.
"Why so formal all of a sudden? We've been married for so long, what else is there to talk about?" Katniss seemed tired and lazy.
I said, "Can we have an honest conversation?"
Katniss tried to change the subject, and I was starting to get impatient. The suppression of these days seemed to be on the verge of bursting out.
"Is it that I haven't been good enough to you? Your words scare me a bit, it's been a long time since you've been this formal." Katniss suddenly moved her face away from my shoulder. Although I couldn't see her, I knew she must be looking at me.
"I've done some things wrong. Just tell me what you want, don't be like this. It's suffocating for both of us." I tried to adjust my breathing as much as possible. The more this went on, the more repulsed I felt. I had to speak out, even if it made things more painful.
"Honey, what's wrong with you? Why are you talking so strangely today? And your mood has been strange these past few days. Don't scare me, okay? Is work stress getting to you?" Katniss's tone seemed to carry a hint of tears, whether genuine or feigned, I couldn't tell.
"Katniss Branpia, is this charade really necessary?" I sat up in bed, pushing away Katniss's hand on my shoulder, and my voice unintentionally raised.
With a soft click, the room was filled with light again, causing me to close my eyes.
"Honey, what's wrong with you? Did I do something wrong again? I don't understand what you're saying." Katniss, in a nightgown, knelt on the bed, looking straight at me with a hint of worry and vulnerability in her eyes. Seeing her expression, I couldn't help but wonder if Katniss was genuinely expressing herself.
"Never mind, let's just go to sleep." I couldn't express my emotions at that moment, so I just lay down on the bed, while Katniss turned off the bedroom light and lay down next to me.
"Honey, what's wrong with you? I'm scared the way you are." Katniss snuggled up to me, speaking softly and obediently.
"It's nothing, let's sleep." There were no more words exchanged between Katniss and me. My mind was in turmoil.
The room fell silent again, but my inner turmoil persisted.
Could I have misunderstood Katniss? The surveillance footage was so real, there couldn't be a mistake. So why was everything like this? Was it because of my work stress, causing hallucinations? Maybe I had some kind of delusional disorder? It could be a problem with me, or with Katniss. After all, Katniss had only recently recovered mentally and seeing the encrypted devices might have triggered something, leading to a split personality. This kind of split personality was rare in reality, mostly seen on TV and in literature, but it was a possibility.
The next morning, Katniss acted as usual towards me. Perhaps my questioning the night before had made her more cautious and submissive.
At work, I couldn't shake off my unease. I turned on the live surveillance at home, and everything Katniss did seemed normal, with no eye contact towards the camera, and no unusual behavior.
Seeing this, I couldn't help but wonder - was it all just a misunderstanding? Or was Katniss just that good of an actress?
By noon, I couldn't sit still any longer. I left the office and went to the hospital where Katniss had been treated before, seeking out the psychiatrist.
"This shouldn't be happening." After briefly explaining the situation to the doctor, he frowned.
"What do you mean?" I sat in the doctor's chair, looking up at him. The doctor stood in front of me, looking uneasy.
"I mean Madam's condition had completely improved. This shouldn't be happening. Could she have experienced some new trigger? But even if she did, it shouldn't be like this. Such cases do exist in the world, but they are very rare. It's too much of a coincidence." The doctor seemed uneasy, as he had repeatedly assured me that Katniss was fine. Now, with this situation, as Katniss's primary doctor, he felt responsible, and I was his superior.
"Mr. Smith, bring Madam over when you have time. I'll conduct a thorough examination. I will give you an explanation this time. If we can't figure it out this time, I'll resign!" The doctor wiped the sweat off his forehead, reassuring me.
"Alright, I'll trust you one more time. But if you can't figure it out this time, it won't be as simple as resigning. Do you understand?"
After all, the doctor knew many of my secrets, so I always kept the pressure on him to keep my secrets.
"Don't worry, I understand." The doctor followed behind me, constantly assuring me.
Back at the office, I pondered how to get Katniss to the hospital and what the truth behind everything was. Was Katniss really experiencing a split personality? Or was she just a great actress? I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown if things continued like this.
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