That morning the air felt fresh. Sunlight pierced through the gaps of the leaves, illuminating the mango tree that stood gracefully in the backyard. Its fruits swayed gently, some already turning yellow and ready to be picked.

Nevan stood under the tree with sparkling eyes. He looked at one fruit hanging a little low. "What a shame if it falls and rots." He said while glancing at you sitting on the porch.

You followed his gaze, then smiled faintly. It only took one exchange of glances for that little plan to be created. Just the instinct of a mother and child in sync… and a bit of curiosity about the sweetness of that mango.

Nevan climbed first, his steps quick and eager. You followed, making sure he didn’t fall, even though both of your positions were equally risky.

The sound of rustling leaves was followed by small laughter trying to be suppressed. The first mango was successfully picked. Then the second. Both looked satisfied—until the sound of the back door creaked open.

Heavy footsteps approached, followed by the soft laugh of a baby in her father’s arms. You and Nevan looked at each other with pale faces—a clear sign that the secret mission had completely failed.

Rendra stood under the tree, looking up with an expression difficult to read. The baby in his arms looked cheerful, as if she knew something interesting was happening up there.

"May I know," said Rendra in a flat yet clear tone, "Why my wife and son are up there?"

Nevan smiled awkwardly. "We were just making sure the fruits are ripe, Dad."

"Making sure?" Rendra raised an eyebrow. "Or stealing?"