When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes.

That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death.

From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me.

So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango."

She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well.

…

On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company.

That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me.

...

Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal.

At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink.

After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks.

I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice.

"But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says.

I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away.

Some things are never a joke.

Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

"Mr. White, your stomach condition has flared up due to stress-induced triggers.

"From now on, don't consume any food that you dislike. Otherwise, it might not just be a stomachache the next time. You could end up having part of your stomach removed.

"Stay in the hospital for a day's observation, and make sure to let your family know to come as soon as possible."

I went quiet after hearing the doctor.

For a new project, I worked day and night abroad for 39 days straight and finally made it home safely. I never expected that a glass of mango juice from Irene Johnson at the celebration dinner would send me straight to the hospital.

I instinctively opened the pinned chat. I had just typed two words when something felt off.

After taking a careful look, I confirmed that it was Irene, but she had changed her profile picture to a green mango.

Just as I was staring blankly at the chat window, Irene's call came through. Her voice on the phone was icy. "I'm home. Where are you?"

I stayed quiet. In the past, I would have forgiven her immediately, pretending nothing had happened and moving on with the conversation.

But tonight, I had no idea what to say.

Irene grew annoyed. "Jason White, how long are you going to keep making a scene?"

"I'm at the hospital."

She fell silent. She had never cared about my health, and she could never have imagined that a single glass of her mango juice would land me straight in the hospital.

"Wait for me at the hospital. I'm coming right away," she said.

I didn't want to deal with her, yet my weakened body kept me from moving.

Time slipped by.

The doctor came to check on me three times, but Irene still hadn't shown up.

Just before falling asleep, I checked my phone one last time and saw Steven Carter's post that said, "Every time I get hurt, my little princess shows up like magic. It's so nice."

The photo showed Irene putting a bandage on him.

Steven's profile picture was a yellow mango. It was pretty, yet it made me feel sick.

We had known each other for a decade, and Irene had always known my limits.

She had spent years in the business world and always knew how to handle herself around other men. But now, she crossed the line again and again.

If that was how things were, then our relationship was over. The latest project I had been handling was no longer needed either. It was a billion-dollar deal in Eurentia, one that could decide the company's fate.

…

When I woke up the next morning, Irene hadn't sent a single message, nor had she called.

I wasn't angry either. After the checkup came back fine, I went straight home. It was a five-thousand-square-foot luxury villa that Irene and I had fully paid for last year.

Seven years ago, when we graduated, we squeezed into a basement and shared a single bowl of instant oatmeal.

Five years ago, when we got our marriage certificate, we grabbed some cheap street food from a small vendor and then went home with a tiny four-inch cake.

And now, I could only tend to my wounds by myself in the empty villa.

I assumed I would get used to it eventually.

Just as I was going over the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent me, Irene came home. A strong whiff of men's cologne followed her through the door. The scent made me pause for a moment.

Irene's skin was delicate and sensitive, and she was allergic to many cosmetics. What she hated most of all was perfume.

Because of that, I never used anything scented during all the years we were together. Even my shampoo was carefully chosen. Now, it seemed that she was only being strict with me.

Irene saw me lying on the couch with a tablet in my hands and hesitated slightly. "Steve was too happy at the celebration dinner last night. He got drunk and fell, so I took him home first.

"Later, it got too late, and the drive was long, so I just found a nearby hotel to stay at. That's why I didn't come to the hospital to pick you up," she said.

I nodded and canceled another partnership deal on my tablet. "Alright, got it," I replied casually.

Irene opened her mouth but seemed momentarily at a loss. It was as if my reaction wasn't what she had expected.

She hesitated for a while, took two steps closer, and lowered her gaze as she said, "Today's Saturday, so don't worry about work anymore. I'm planning to take Steve to Parille for a trip. Do you want to come along?"

On my birthday seven years ago, Irene and I took a five-dollar photo together at a night market. Looking at the flimsy backdrop of the Parille Tower, she swore that once we had money, she would take me to Parille and recreate the exact same photo under the real Parille Tower.

As the years went by, our house got bigger, and the business became increasingly successful. Yet she grew busier, often trying to soothe me with excuses.

She would say, "Jay, this is a critical period for the company's growth. As the leader of the company, how can I just take leave and go abroad whenever I want? You've always been the sensible one. You can understand me, can't you?"

I understood, so I stopped bringing up Parille and threw myself wholeheartedly into the company's work, contributing to her career. But it turned out that if it was Steven, she suddenly had time.

I opened the next client's email and said in the same tone, "A group of three feels too crowded. I'm not interested."

After hearing my words, Irene somehow seemed to let out a sigh of relief before continuing, "Fine. I'll just grab something and head out. Have lunch on your own, and we'll eat dinner together tonight.

"This partnership is crucial for the company's expansion into overseas markets. I've invited the media for a press conference next Monday. Haven't you always wanted to stand by my side openly? Next Monday is your chance, so get ready—"

After Irene finished speaking, she paused and looked at me seriously. "Don't worry. This time I'll introduce you properly, and I won't let Steve interfere."

I looked up at her with a calm glance. I knew very well that this was her way of making up for what happened the night before.

But that was fine. The cancellation of the deal in Eurentia would take a few days to process anyway. Announcing it on the day of the press conference would work perfectly.

…

In the evening, I went to the restaurant early, just as I always did. After seven years together, it had become almost a habit.

While I was waiting, I received a call from overseas. It was Ashley Walker, my opponent in the last negotiation, and also my senior.

Ashley's voice was warm as she said with a smile, "Jay, have you thought about my offer for you to join DM Group? Johnson Corporation is still too small and doesn't deserve someone of your caliber."

This was her third attempt to recruit me.

The first time was seven years earlier, when I turned down a high-paying offer from a foreign company to join Irene's small company, earning just two thousand dollars a month. On top of that, I had to contribute one thousand dollars toward the rent for the place I shared with her.

Ashley was frustrated that I didn't live up to her expectations. She lectured me until her throat was dry, but I remained unmoved.

The second time was at the negotiation table from a few days ago. As my opponent, Ashley was completely overwhelmed by me.

After it ended, she looked both impressed and wary. "Jay, I heard that you're only making five thousand dollars a month at Johnson Corporation. Come work with me instead. Don't let your talent be buried by someone who doesn't recognize your worth."

I turned her down with a smile.

How could it be buried? That was my wife's company, the one she and I had built together over seven years.

The third attempt was now.

I paused for only three seconds, ordered a bottle of red wine, and agreed without hesitation. "Send me the address. I'll start next Tuesday."

Ashley on the other end froze for two seconds before bursting into loud laughter. She was afraid that I might change my mind, so she quickly gave her approval and hung up.

I chuckled and was about to put my phone down when Irene's messages popped up. "Plans have changed. Steve couldn't wait, so I took him on the plane first. Have dinner on your own."

She added, "Wait for me. When I get back, I have a surprise for you."

Steven also posted a new photo tagging me directly. The caption read, "Thanks to Irie for making my dream come true. As payback, I'm treating you to a fancy dinner tomorrow."

The photo showed Steven holding Irene's hand beneath the Parille Tower. It was exactly the same as the picture Irene and I took seven years ago.

I stared blankly at the photo for two seconds, then closed it and decisively opened Ashley's chat. "I'll bring you a gift when I start. Do you want the billion-dollar deal in Eurentia?"

My phone was quiet for a moment, then started vibrating like crazy.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Ashley replied.

She continued, "Jay, you are far too good to me. Yesterday was your birthday, right? The gift I got you should have arrived by now. Don't forget to pick it up."

I froze for a second, then a faint laugh slipped from my throat and grew louder.

Right. Yesterday was my birthday.

When Irene watched me drink that mango juice, did she remember that it was my birthday?

When she put a bandage on Steven and left me alone in the hospital, did she even think about giving a birthday gift to her husband of five years?

She probably didn't, but it no longer mattered. We were getting divorced anyway.

Who would want a gift from a soon-to-be ex-wife?

After finishing the meal, I didn't rest. I threw myself entirely into the Eurentia project.