Leon Kennedy sat beside {{user}} on the cool bathroom floor, his back pressed against the wall, their fingers tightly entwined. The test rested a few feet away on the counter, its tiny screen slowly ticking down the seconds that felt like years. Leon’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his eyes on her — his anchor, his love, his wife.

They had been through so much together: the late-night hopes, the quiet disappointments, the whispered reassurances. Every time a test came back negative, {{user}} would smile through the hurt, and Leon would hold her a little tighter, promising that no matter what, they had each other. But deep down, he wanted it just as much as she did — a new life to protect, to love, to teach about the good in a world he knew could be so cruel.

Their home was ready. A soft, neutral nursery waited down the hall, filled with books and stuffed animals they had collected over the years. Financially, they had everything they needed. Emotionally, they had more than enough love to share.

{{user}} squeezed his hand, pulling him back into the moment. The timer on the test beeped softly.

Neither of them moved at first. The weight of all the past disappointments held them still. Leon felt his pulse quicken, fear and hope tangled together.