John stared at the small plastic test on the table as if it might suddenly grow legs and run away.
For a long moment he said absolutely nothing.
Mansa folded her arms and watched him carefully.
"Well?" she asked.
John leaned closer.
"Mansa…" he said slowly. "Tell me this is not one of your lawyer tricks."
"Lawyer tricks?"
"Yes. You know… evidence planted to trap the suspect."
Mansa raised an eyebrow.
"Do I look like a rogue lawyer to you?"
"At the moment," John replied, "you look very suspicious."
Mansa tried very hard not to laugh.
John picked up the test with trembling fingers.
He turned it left.
Then right.
Then closer to his eyes.
"Two lines," he murmured.
He looked up slowly.
"Two lines means…"
"You work in a bank for crying out loud," Mansa interrupted. "You should know how to count."
"Mansa," he whispered again.
The room suddenly felt very quiet.
Outside, a motorcycle passed on the street. Somewhere in the distance, someone was laughing. Life was continuing as usual.
But inside the apartment, time had almost stopped.
"Are you serious?" John asked softly.
Mansa nodded.
"Very serious."
He stared at her for another moment, as if searching her face for signs of mischief.
"You're not joking this time?"
"John," she said, "if this is a joke, it would be the cruelest joke in human history."
That was when it finally happened.
The understanding reached him.
Slowly.
Then suddenly.
His eyes widened.
"Mansa…" he breathed.
She smiled.
"Yes."
He jumped to his feet so fast that the couch squeaked in protest.
"Mansa!" he shouted.
She burst into laughter.
"Lower your voice! The neighbors will think Boom Bank has collapsed!"
But John was already pacing the room like a man who had just discovered hidden treasure in his backyard.
"Five years," he said, running his hands over his head. "Five whole years!"
"I remember," Mansa replied gently.
He turned toward her again.
"You're sure?"
"Doctor Aba confirmed it this afternoon."
"Doctor Aba?"
"Yes."
"So this is medically verified?"
"John," she said patiently, "I did not print the result from the internet."
He laughed.
Then suddenly he stopped.
"Wait," he said.
Mansa narrowed her eyes.
"What now?"
"Does this mean…" he began slowly, "I have to start waking up at midnight to carry babies?"
Mansa stared at him.
"The baby is not arriving tonight."
"Oh," he said with relief. "Good."
She shook her head.
"You are unbelievable."
John finally walked back toward her.
But this time his expression was softer.
More careful.
More emotional.
He knelt in front of her chair and took her hands gently.
"Mansa," he said quietly.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Her smile faded slightly into something warmer.
"For what?"
"For not giving up."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Five years of disappointment.
Five years of quiet prayers.
Five years of pretending everything was fine.
And now this.
Mansa squeezed his hands.
"We didn't give up," she said softly. "We just waited."
John nodded slowly.
Then suddenly a wide grin spread across his face.
"Do you realize," he said, "that my mother is going to dance when she hears this?"
Mansa laughed again.
"Your mother will not dance."
"She will."
"She will faint."
"Then she will dance after she wakes up," John insisted.
Mansa shook her head.
"Your family is dramatic."
"You married into the drama," he replied proudly.
They both laughed.
For the first time in many years, the laughter felt completely free.
Because now the future had changed.
And neither of them yet knew just how much.