The sound of paper rustling was the only thing louder than Shantel's heartbeat.
She sat in the crisp, too-white office of Dr. Naa Lamptey, her obstetrician, one hand resting lightly on her belly, the other tightly clutching Gilbert's. The fluorescent light above hummed, sharp against the silence, while a wall-mounted screen blinked with a frozen ultrasound image. A tiny bean-shaped figure floated in the grainy black and white.
Their child.
Shantel couldn't stop staring.
"It's confirmed," Dr. Lamptey said, smiling. "Six weeks along. Everything looks healthy so far."
Shantel let out a slow breath. The kind that comes from months—no, years—of hope tied too tightly to grief.
Gilbert squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse.
The doctor nodded and turned to her computer. "We'll schedule your next scan in two weeks. Let's get you on prenatal vitamins, and… breathe. Enjoy this."
They walked out in silence, hand in hand, like two people who had just been told the world wasn't ending after all.
Outside, the sun was warm. The parking lot shimmered with heat, and a tree nearby shook gently in the wind. Shantel leaned against the car for a moment, eyes closed.
"You okay?" Gilbert asked.
She looked at him. "I didn't think we'd ever hear that news."
He reached for her, pulling her into a hug. "We did. It's real."
"It doesn't feel real."
"I know," he said. "But it is."
They stood like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other, the world moving on around them. But for Shantel, time had slowed. Everything was starting over.
Later that evening, Gilbert stood under the shower, hands pressed against the tiled wall, water cascading down his back. He hadn't stopped thinking about the test results he received three years ago.
Three percent.
That was the number Sam, Lauren's husband, and his close friend, who is a specialist, had given him. Three percent chance of ever fathering a child naturally. Low enough to be called "effectively infertile." He'd gone alone. Told Shantel it was just a routine checkup. Told her everything came back "normal."
And now here they were. Pregnant.
He remembered the moment Shantel first told him—the look on her face, the joy, the disbelief. How could he shatter that? How could he even begin to ask the questions clawing at his mind?
Whose child is this?
The thought made him feel like filth. Because no part of him doubted her. Not really. She was loyal, honest, and open-hearted. She'd never given him a reason not to trust her. But science didn't lie. Biology didn't bend to feelings.
He ran a hand down his face, letting the water drown out his thoughts.
Maybe it was the three percent, he reasoned. Someone's got to fall in that bracket. Why not us?
But the unease sat in his chest like a stone.
Over the next week, Shantel moved like someone lit from within. She kept the pregnancy quiet, only telling Lauren and April, but the glow in her cheeks, the spring in her step—it was obvious something had shifted. She began collecting nursery ideas, bookmarking baby names, and calling her mother more often.
Gilbert, on the other hand, couldn't shake the math.
He began researching second opinions. Quietly. Late at night, while Shantel slept.
One afternoon, he couldn't take it anymore, so he picked up the phone and called Sam with the hope that there could have been a mix-up again.
"Hey man, I heard," Sam said as soon as he picked up.
"Hhm, it's the reason why I called. I need to understand something," Gilbert said. "You said my chances were three percent three years ago, right?? Is there any possibility... something changed? A miscalculation?"
There was a pause. "Unlikely," Sam replied. "The tests were run twice. Your sperm count and motility are very low. Even with interventions, it would be difficult."
"But not impossible?"
"Technically, no. But if your partner has conceived naturally, it would be rare. But we could run the tests again to see if there have been some changes."
Gilbert hesitated. "I see," It's not that he didn't go ahead with it, but he was afraid the outcome would break their home.
"Hhm"
He could hear the weight in Sam's tone. The same weight he'd been trying to ignore. He hung up without saying much else.
He didn't tell Shantel about the call.
A few days later, Gilbert came home early. Shantel was curled up on the couch with a throw blanket, reading baby blogs on her tablet, humming softly. She looked up and smiled.
"You're home early!"
"I missed you," he said, dropping his bag and sitting beside her.
She rested her head on his shoulder. "I was just reading about second-trimester symptoms. Apparently, the emotional shifts can get intense."
Gilbert laughed softly. "You've already been emotional for years. I'm built for this."
She elbowed him playfully. "Rude."
He turned to her, expression softening. "I mean it. I'm with you. No matter what."
She looked into his eyes for a beat too long. "Where did that come from?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just… realizing how fragile things are. How easily we could've missed this moment."
She nodded slowly. "I think about that too."
Gilbert brushed a hand over her belly. "We're going to be okay."
She closed her eyes. "Promise?"
"Promise."