Mansa had just finished arranging the pillows on the couch for the third time when she heard it.
A faint metallic sound.
Click.
Her head snapped toward the door.
"Oh my goodness," she whispered.
Her heart immediately began racing like a drum at a festival.
"Already?"
She glanced at the wall clock.
6:58 PM.
"He's early," she said nervously.
Normally John never arrived before seven-thirty. Boom Bank had a way of squeezing every last drop of energy out of him before releasing him into the evening traffic of Accra.
But tonight, fate had decided to move faster.
Another sound came from the door.
Click.
"Okay, okay," she muttered, standing quickly. "Stay calm, Mansa. You are a lawyer. You have faced judges, opposing counsel, and Auntie Ama during Christmas arguments. You can handle your own husband."
She grabbed her handbag and quickly checked inside.
The pregnancy test was still there.
Safe.
Silent.
Dangerous.
"Perfect," she whispered.
The door opened slowly.
John stepped inside, loosening his tie with one hand and holding his briefcase with the other.
He was a bold handsome man with sleek masculine features ; a man no woman dare ignore.
He stopped the moment he saw her standing in the middle of the living room like a security guard on duty.
"Ah," he said slowly. "Good evening to you my chocho muncho(complement of love)."
Mansa crossed her arms.
"Good evening."
John blinked.
"Why are you standing like a headmistress waiting to punish a student?"
"Sit down," Mansa said calmly.
John froze.
"Should I be afraid?"
"Just sit."
He placed his briefcase on the floor carefully, as if it might explode, and lowered himself onto the couch.
"Mansa," he said cautiously, "did I forget our anniversary?"
"No."
"Your birthday?"
"No."
"Your mother's birthday?"
"John!"
"Okay! Okay! I'm sitting!" he said, raising both hands.
Mansa began pacing slowly across the room.
John watched her like someone watching a lion walk around a goat.
"This looks serious," he murmured.
"It is," she replied sharply.
He swallowed.
"Is everything okay?"
Mansa stopped and looked at him.
Her expression softened for a brief moment, but then she remembered the plan.
No.
This reveal required drama.
"John," she said slowly, "we need to talk."
John groaned immediately.
"Those four words again."
"What four words?" she asked begrudgingly.
"'We need to talk.'" He leaned back on the couch and rubbed his forehead. "Nobody has ever said those words and then delivered good news. When I tell my workers that we need to talk, they just know its going to be bad."
Mansa almost laughed but managed to keep a straight face.
"This is important."
"Important like… divorce important?" he asked nervously.
"JOHN!"
"I'm just asking!" he protested.
She shook her head.
"You are impossible."
"Then please rescue me from this suspense," he begged. "My heart is already writing its will."
Mansa slowly sat down on the chair opposite him.
For a moment neither spoke.
The evening sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in warm gold.
Outside, a car horn sounded faintly.
Inside, John's anxiety was growing rapidly.
"Mansa," he said quietly, "you're scaring me."
She took a deep breath.
"After five years," she began slowly, "there are some things we stop expecting."
John's shoulders sank.
"Mansa…"
"We try to stay strong," she continued. "We tell ourselves that maybe it just isn't meant to be."
John looked down at his hands.
"I know," he said softly.
Her heart squeezed.
For a moment she almost abandoned the prank.
Almost.
But then she remembered the look on his face earlier when she practiced in the mirror.
Worth it.
She stood up again dramatically.
"But sometimes," she said slowly, "life surprises us."
John looked up.
"What do you mean?"
Mansa smiled slightly.
"Let's just say… today has been a very interesting day."
John leaned forward inquisitively, like a baby curious of a new toy.
"Mansa… what happened today?"
She reached slowly into her handbag.
John's eyes followed the movement like a detective watching a suspect reach into their pocket.
"Please tell me that is not a hospital bill," he said weakly.
Mansa almost burst out laughing.
Instead she pulled out the small plastic test.
And placed it gently on the table between them.
John stared at it.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
Then leaned closer.
"Mansa…" he whispered.
His voice trembled.
"Is this what I think it is?"