The bliss had settled into a comfortable, radiant rhythm. Three months of marriage had woven their lives together in a tapestry of shared routines and quiet understanding. The penthouse was no longer just Adams's space; it was theirs. Her books were stacked beside his on the shelves, her vibrant ankara fabric was draped over a chair in his minimalist study, a splash of color he said he loved coming home to.
Mina was humming, a habit she'd picked up when she was truly content. She stood at the state-of-the-art stove—a terrifying behemoth of chrome and fire she had now mastered—stirring a pot of ofe nsala, the rich, pepper-based soup Adams had confessed was his favorite. The aroma of crayfish and spices filled the air, a stark, wonderful contrast to the sterile scent that had once defined her life.
She heard the key in the lock, the familiar sound of his briefcase being set down in the foyer, the soft tread of his footsteps on the polished concrete floor. Her heart did its familiar little flip, a reaction that hadn't dimmed.
"Something smells like heaven," his voice called out, warm and laced with the faint tiredness of a long day. "And for once, it's not the hotel downstairs."
She turned, wiping her hands on a towel, a smile already on her face. "Welcome home. Long day at the empire?"
He came into the kitchen, loosening his tie. He looked every inch the powerful editor, but his eyes, when they found hers, were soft, just for her. He walked straight to her, bypassing the pot, and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck with a deep, contented sigh.
"The empire can wait," he mumbled against her skin, his breath warm. "This is my capital."
She laughed, melting into his embrace. This was their ritual. His anchor at the end of the day.
He pulled back, his hands sliding to her waist. "You've been humming again. What's my wife so happy about today?"
She looked up at him, her nerves suddenly fluttering alongside her joy. She'd known for a week. She'd kept the secret tucked close to her heart, a precious, terrifying gem she wanted to present to him perfectly.
"I have a surprise for you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
His eyebrows rose, a playful smile touching his lips. "A surprise? Did you finally let the interior designer change my 'dreadfully boring' grey sofa?"
"Better," she said, her smile trembling. She took his hand and led him away from the stove, over to the vast sofa he'd just mentioned. "Sit."
Intrigued, he sat, his eyes never leaving her face. She knelt on the floor in front of him, taking both of his hands in hers. The action felt solemn, sacred.
"Adams," she began, her heart hammering against her ribs so loudly she was sure he could hear it. "Do you remember that first day, on the hospital bench? You said our story was just beginning."
"I remember," he said, his tone gentle, curious.
"You said the dream was the future we would build. The family we would create." She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of pure, unadulterated emotion. "Well… we've started building it."
His brow furrowed slightly, not yet understanding. "Mina…?"
She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small, rectangular object. She placed it in his palm.
It was a pregnancy test. And in the little window, clear and undeniable, were two bold pink lines.
Adams stared at it. The air left his lungs in a quiet rush. The playful curiosity on his face vanished, replaced by a blank, stunned silence. He looked from the test to her face, then back to the test, as if he couldn't process the information.
Mina's nerves tightened. Was he not happy? Was it too soon? "Adams? Say something."
His hand closed slowly around the plastic stick, his knuckles white. When he looked up at her again, his eyes were wide, shimmering with a vulnerability she had never seen in him before. The powerful CEO, the unflappable editor, was utterly gone. In his place was just a man, brought to his knees by a miracle.
"A baby?" he finally breathed, the words cracking with emotion. "Mina… are you… is this…?"
She nodded, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
The change in his face was instantaneous and breathtaking. A joy so raw, so profound, erupted from him that it seemed to light up the entire room. A sound that was half-laugh, half-sob burst from his chest. He dropped the test and surged forward, pulling her off her knees and into his arms, crushing her against him.
"A baby," he whispered into her hair, his voice thick with awe. "Our baby." He held her for a long moment, his entire body trembling with the force of his emotion. Then he pulled back, cradling her face, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips—a shower of reverent, joyful kisses.
"This," he said, his voice fierce with happiness, "this is the best deal I have ever brokered. The best headline I will ever publish." He laughed, a free, unburdened sound she wanted to bottle forever. "When? How far along?"
"Just a few weeks," she said, laughing through her own tears. "The doctor confirmed it this morning. Everything is perfect."
He suddenly grew still, his hands moving from her face to her stomach, resting there with a tenderness that made her breath catch. He looked down at his hands, then up at her, his expression one of pure, unadulterated wonder.
"Hello in there," he whispered to her still-flat abdomen, his voice husky with love. "I'm your daddy. And I am already so proud of you."
The sight of this powerful man, brought to his knees by the concept of their child, undid her completely. She covered his hands with hers, the joy between them a tangible, sparkling force.
He looked up, his eyes blazing with a new, fierce light. "Everything changes now. Everything gets better. We're not just a couple, Mina. We're a family." He kissed her again, deeply, a kiss that tasted of future and hope and boundless love. "We're going to be a family."
In that moment, standing in their kitchen wrapped in the aroma of home-cooked food and the certainty of their love, the future stretched before them, golden and clear. The baby was a promise, a culmination of their bliss, a glimpse of a destiny more wonderful than either could have imagined.
But as Adams held her, already making plans, his voice full of a triumphant joy that echoed through the penthouse, neither of them could see the first, faint shadow of a coming storm. This new, glorious chapter was also the first step onto a path that would lead to a crowded family house, to misunderstood silences, and to a moment of shattering pressure. The future they glimpsed was bright, but the road to get there would be paved with trials they couldn't yet imagine. For now, there was only joy.