On a whim, I peeled a mango for my daughter, posted it on Twitter, and jokingly mentioned that I wasn't worthy of eating it myself. Unexpectedly, it went viral, and I was blasted online.

A popular actress, Cynthia Thompson, reposted my tweet, encouraging women to bravely be themselves.

As the waves of online hatred poured in, a wealthy heir in Ignisreach posted two large boxes of mangoes on Twitter and tagged me. His tone was gentle and doting: [These are all for Amy. You're allergic to mangoes, so you can't eat them.]

——

My sweet daughter was sick and begged me to peel a mango for her.

I looked down at my freshly done 2000-dollar manicure, sighed helplessly, and complied.

I posted a photo of the peeled mangoes on Twitter.

Feeling a bit hard done by, I posted a photo on Twitter, making fun of how I couldn't eat the mango I had peeled.

After my beauty treatment, my best friend, Donna Hayes, called to tell me I had gone viral. She urged me to check the top trending topic.

Puzzled, I opened Twitter.

At the top of the trending list was a piece of news: [Popular Actress Cynthia Thompson Says Women Should Be Brave and Be Themselves!]

Confused, I wondered what that had to do with me.

Notifications of message replies kept popping up.

Feeling uneasy, I checked the comments.

To my dismay, I saw Cynthia had retweeted my post with the caption: [Women should bravely be themselves.]

I felt speechless and checked the comments.

Floods of abusive comments hit me.

[If you can't afford to have kids, don't have them!!]

[Self-pitying is just disgusting.]

[Seriously, lady? It's just a mango. Why aren't you worthy of eating it?]

[This is terrifying. If I have kids and can't even eat a mango, why bother having kids?]

[So sad. As a mother, you're not even worthy of eating a mango?]

I stared at the comments, baffled.

It wasn't that serious. I was just joking about my mango allergy.

How did it escalate to this? Were netizens today that imaginative?

Even if it's a self-indulgent post, so what?

I posted it on my social media, and no one was forced to see it.

My daughter was happy eating it, and I was happy peeling it. Why should others care?

Comments were welcome, but why the vitriol?

Nowadays, netizens were too aggressive.

Even a passing dog would get cursed.

I checked my inbox.

It was filled with abusive messages, full of vile language.

Only a few supportive messages, mostly from other moms, comforted me to withstand the online abuse, understanding my devotion to my child.

I looked at the messages, amused and annoyed, just as my husband called.

Matthew Sullivan sounded worried and asked what was going on.

I shrugged helplessly and explained, "Amy wanted me to peel a mango for her. After peeling, I joked about not being able to eat it due to my allergy, and the netizens overreacted."

After a moment of silence, Matthew listened and said a bit resentfully, "You've never peeled a mango for me."

I was both amused and exasperated by his comment. "Is that the point? The point is your wife is being cyberbullied right now!"

Matthew chuckled softly at my words and said he had already taken care of it, telling me not to worry.

Before long, Cynthia's trending topic had dropped off.

Instead, a new trending topic about Matthew appeared at the top.

I hesitated but decided to check it out.

Wow.

Matthew, who rarely logs into his Twitter account, had posted a new update.

Two large boxes of fresh mangoes in the photo were neatly arranged in his office.

The captions read: [All for Amy. You're allergic to mangoes, so hands off.]

He even tagged me directly.

I couldn't help but click my tongue.

So this was Matthew's way of handling things?

He was as straightforward and blunt as ever.

But I liked it.

At that moment, the comments under Matthew's post were full of peace.

Netizens were commenting: [Mr. Sullivan is so spoiled to his wife!] [So Mrs. Sullivan isn't unworthy of mangoes. She's just allergic! Some people just can't stand to see others happy.]

I scrolled through the comments carefully.

Although most were friendly, there were still some harsh remarks.

When I checked their profiles, most were Cynthia's fans, with a large portion being major fans from Cynthia's fan club.

I generally didn't bother with such people.

Because I know the root cause was Cynthia.

If she hadn't absurdly reposted my update and arrogantly voiced her opinion, I wouldn't have suffered this.

Cynthia, huh? Now, I would remember her.

After the last fuss died down, I returned to my normal life.

Amy continued to attend kindergarten.

One day, Donna called me, inviting me to a charity gala.

Although I received the invitation, I originally didn't want to go.

But Donna persisted, and I eventually gave in.

When we arrived, I found out many celebrities were present.

Just as we were about to enter, a limousine arrived.

A beautiful woman stepped out of the car.

The media and reporters instantly swarmed over.

One reporter bumped into me while rushing over.

Just as I was about to fall, someone caught me from behind.

Without even looking, I knew it was Matthew.

Matthew looked at me with a stern face, somewhat displeased, and asked why I hadn't come with him.

I smiled, stuck out my tongue playfully, and gently squeezed his fingers without saying a word.

Seeing me like this, Matthew immediately surrendered.

He gave me a helpless smile.

At that moment, a reporter who had just run past us saw Matthew and ran back.

Then, they raised their camera and started snapping photos of us.

Other reporters, noticing the commotion, also rushed over.

Cynthia was suddenly left alone, with no one around her.

After glancing over at us, she sauntered over to talk to Matthew.

She didn't spare a glance at me or Donna.

Matthew pretended not to hear her and continued to smile at me.

Unexpectedly, Cynthia didn't seem to feel awkward at all, still chatting away with a cheerful smile.

I stood aside, watching Matthew with a smile.

He could no longer keep up his smile.

Matthew sighed helplessly and said directly to Cynthia, "Ms. Thompson, you've been in the entertainment industry for so many years, yet you have no sense of reading the room? My wife has been standing here watching for a while. Can you stop talking to me? Otherwise, I'm afraid she won't speak to me!"

When Cynthia heard Matthew's blunt dismissal, her face turned red.

Just as she was about to explain, Matthew took my hand and walked away.

She was standing there alone, staring bitterly at our retreating figures.

Inside the venue, the attending celebrities, including Cynthia, performed.

Watching Cynthia sing and dance on stage, I questioned Matthew if he knew her.

Matthew, looking exasperated, insisted he had nothing to do with her.

He explained that he had only met her a few times because his company had business dealings with her.

That struck me as odd. I wondered if it was just my imagination.

I always felt like she was targeting me.

Last time, she inexplicably shared my post.

Now, she was trying to seduce my husband right in front of me, ignoring me entirely.

While scoping out handsome men, Donna nonchalantly said, "Oh, come on. You're gorgeous, married well, and have a hot husband. Any ambitious woman would be jealous of you."

I nodded, thinking Donna had a point, especially with her first sentence.

The auction soon began.

I spotted a set of emerald jewelry.

My mom's birthday was coming up, and I had been stressing over what to get her. This set was perfect.

When choosing a gift for my mother, Matthew had to be proactive.

He immediately raised his paddle to bid.

But then Cynthia, for some reason, kept raising the bid.

Eventually, Matthew, annoyed by Cynthia's persistence, frowned and bid eight million dollars.

That finally shut her down.

During the intermission, Cynthia approached Matthew, squatting, and said in a taunting tone, "Mr. Sullivan, you're so generous. I really liked that set too. Why not let me have it? You won't need it anyway, and it's all for charity."

When I heard Cynthia's snide tone, my anger flared.

Great, the second time, she treated me as if I weren't there.

I stopped Matthew with a glance and directly confronted Cynthia. "Ms. Thompson, have you seen a doctor for your condition?"

Cynthia looked puzzled, not understanding my meaning.

I raised an eyebrow and continued, "I mean, Ms. Thompson, have you seen an ophthalmologist?

"How come, Ms. Thompson, you only talk to Matthew when there are two of us here? Can you only see other people's husbands?"

When she heard my words, Cynthia's face turned gloomy.