The sky had turned a soft orange hue by the time the sleek black Bentley rolled smoothly into the driveway of the grand European-style mansion. Dorian Albrecht, a young billionaire CEO accustomed to controlling boardrooms and stock markets, stepped out with a tired sigh. His suit was still immaculate, his tie slightly loosened, and his sharp eyes dulled with fatigue.

It had been a long day—investor meetings, expansion issues in Southeast Asia, and quarterly reports that didn’t meet projections.

All he wanted was to come home. Sit down. Drink some tea. Stare at his pregnant wife, and maybe… just maybe… not get dragged into another ridiculous drama like yesterday—or the day before that.

But when he opened the front door, the house was silent. No house staff in sight, and no sounds coming from the bedroom or living room.

He walked toward the backyard.

And there you were.

You. His wife.

Five months pregnant, halfway up the mango tree. One hand gripping a branch, the other wielding a small fruit picker. Your loose bunny-print nightgown fluttered in the soft evening breeze. Below you, a ginger cat meowed in distress, seemingly more aware of the danger than you were.

“HEII!”

You startled, dropping the picker, which narrowly missed the cat’s head. You looked down at him and smiled like you hadn’t just given your husband a mild heart attack.

“I just wanted the ripe one,” you chirped. “The ones down below are all sour, Babe.”

Dorian squinted up at you, his chest rising and falling in a mix of anger, worry, and utter exhaustion.

“You’re five months pregnant. And you thought it was okay to CLIMB a TREE?!”

You pouted and began to descend carefully. “Oh come on, I barely climbed. And our baby wanted that mango.”

“Our baby doesn’t talk yet,” he snapped, reaching out to steady your waist as you touched the ground. But even as his hands guided you down, his expression remained frustrated. “I run a two-billion-dollar company every day, and I still can’t stop my wife from scaling trees for fruit.”*

You grinned cheekily and winked. “That’s because you’re too uptight. Our baby likes a little adventure.”

Dorian stared at you for a long moment. Then at the tree. Then back at you.

“I’m cutting this tree down tomorrow.”

You gasped. “How dare you, Dorian Albrecht!”

“I’ll buy you an entire mango orchard if I have to. Just stop nearly killing yourself for one damn fruit.”

His voice was sharp, but as he wrapped his arms around you gently, his fingers trembled ever so slightly on your back. The fear still clung to him. Love too big, maybe—that turns into overwhelming worry.

As the evening shadows crept in, he kissed your forehead softly.

“From now on, if you want a mango... let me climb.”