It had been eight months since Monica found out she was pregnant. Mandla was still persistent and loving as always. Mojalefa was a bit sceptical about the pregnancy, it was like he didn’t want the child to born.

“My daughter, after you give birth you must name the child after me,” Mokgadi said, as she fussed over Monica, making her snacks every after five minutes.

“What if it’s a boy?” Monica asked, buttering her toasted bread with cucumber before adding jam. It was a weird combination, but she couldn’t control her cravings.

“Too many boys in this home. We want a girl, all of Mojalefa’s brothers have boys. Mojalefa must have a girl,” Mokgadi said, sipping her tea.

“I’d also prefer a girl. But, you know males, wanting sons. So, maybe Mojalefa will want a son.” Monica brushed her huge stomach.

“Why didn’t you do a gender scan?” Mokgadi asked, putting Monica’s feet up and pushing a pillow under her legs.

Monica looked at this and almost laughed. Mokgadi hated her nine months ago, but now she treated her like royalty. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” Monica smiled as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“Pregnant women and their cravings,” Mokgadi laughed. They both laughed.

“When I was carrying your husband, I always craved salt. Just salt,” Mokgadi said.

“That’s the worst!” Monica laughed.

“I never thought I’d see the day you two shared a laugh,” Mojalefa said, walking in.

“Neither did I,” Monica admitted.

“You were convinced my mom hated you,” Mojalefa giggled.

“Hate is a strong word. I just wanted to push you two to do the right thing,” Mokgadi defended herself.

“More like pushing only me to do the right thing,” Monica laughed.

“I knew talking to Mojalefa would be like pouring water on a plate.” Mokgadi sipped her tea again.

“I’ll make you tea, Mojalefa.” Monica tried to stand up.

“You sit, my dear. I’ll make it!” Mokgadi stood up hastily.

***

Monica woke up to a room that smelled like injections and medication. She recognised the smell. She was in hospital.

“My baby,” she said, faintly.

“It’s a girl!” Mojalefa stood up, a wide smile on his face.

He handed the child over to her mother. She looked so perfect, pink little lips, little toes and tiny fingers, and curly baby hair. She kept her eyes closely shut.

“Your mom suggested we name her after herself,” Monica told Mandla.

“Her name is Relebogile. Relebogile Taung,” Mojalefa said, ignoring what Monica was saying.

“I love it.”

Monica kissed the little girl’s cheek. She whimpered then slowly opened her eyes. When she did, her eyes were dark brown, beautiful brown eyes with lots eyelashes. Her eyes look like Mandla’s. Now that she thought of it, even her nose and dimples resembled Mandla’s.

“I know how uninvolved I’ve been throughout your pregnancy, but I promise not to be an absent father. I’ll love and care for our daughter,” Mojalefa smiled, brushing his hand up gently on Relebogile’s face.

Just then, her cell phone rang, ruining the moment.

“Aren’t you going to answer the caller, and tell them about our daughter?” Mojalefa asked.

“Please go get me fresh clothes at home,” Monica said quickly.

***

Tell us: Who do you think is calling Monica?