My Wife vs. a Mango… Guess Who Won?

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