“Why do you put so much care into the jams?”

The question, spoken in a melodic, lilting voice, startled Leo. He nearly dropped the knife he was using to dice mangoes. Turning, he saw a petite woman standing in his kitchen doorway, her long, yellow hair catching the golden afternoon light. Her dress was strange, resembling the greenish hue of mango leaves, flowing around her like it was part of the breeze itself.

Leo blinked, certain he would’ve heard her enter if she’d used the front door.

The woman tilted her head, her movements reminiscent of a curious kitten. “Do you love mangoes that much?”

“Uh...” Leo stammered, his words faltering as his brain momentarily froze. He was too stunned by her presence to form a coherent response.

His eyes, however, were working perfectly. He watched as she approached the table, bypassing the sturdy narra chairs and settling herself atop the polished surface instead. The soft rustling of her strange dress accompanied her movement, like leaves brushing together in the wind.

Now that she was closer, Leo noticed something even more peculiar: her eyes. They were a vibrant shade of yellow, gleaming like ripe mango flesh in the sunlight.

“You… you don’t look like you’re from around here,” Leo finally managed to say, his voice wavering slightly.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful grin. “I’ve actually lived here much longer than you have.”

Leo blinked, stunned once again. She looked young—barely older than himself at twenty-one—and far too ethereal to be from the area. How could she have been here longer than him?

But then his gaze drifted over her strange features: her hair—bright and unmistakably yellow, not blonde—her striking topaz eyes, and the leafy dress that seemed to shift like it was alive. None of it looked normal.

“I’m a mango spirit!” she declared, throwing her arms out wide as if announcing a grand performance. “Ta-da!”

Leo stared, dumbfounded, as she continued with a proud smile. “You’ve been such a good caretaker of the trees and genuinely care for their fruits, so I decided to pay you a visit.”

Leo dropped the knife in his hand for real this time. “M-mango spirit?” he stammered, the words barely escaping his mouth.

His eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the scene like he was noticing it for the first time. Baskets of ripe mangoes were piled on the floor, their golden hues glowing under the warm light. More mangoes sat on the counter, waiting to be sliced, while the sweet, sticky aroma of the fruit hung heavy in the air.

Even he smelled of mangoes.

Truth be told, Leo had always been obsessed with mangoes. It wasn’t just the jam—his love for them ran deep. His aunts and uncles, even his neighbors, affectionately called him “Mango Boy,” a nickname he wore with pride.

The mango spirit’s eyes twinkled as she hopped off the table, her feet barely making a sound as she landed. She gave him a mischievous grin. “I know they call you Mango Boy,” she teased, twirling around him in a slow circle. “I like it. It shows how much you really love mangoes. I mean, how else could you make such delicious-smelling jams?”

She paused, eyeing him up and down, before adding with a playful wink, “Can I have a taste, Mango Boy?”

Leo took a deep breath before answering, “But I’m still preparing the fruit.”

He bent down to grab the knife he’d dropped, quickly rinsing it under the faucet before returning to the task at hand. He sliced and diced with practiced precision, but a thought lingered in the back of his mind. He glanced over at the yellow-haired spirit, her playful gaze still fixed on him.

“If you can wait...” he began, his voice softening, “I’ll give you some.”

“Oh, goody!” The spirit rejoiced, clapping her hands together. “You’re going to make my wish come true! I watch you prepare them every harvest, and the smell... Oh, the smell is so sweet that I’ve always wished for a taste.”

Leo felt his face flush. While he knew how good his mango jams were, no one had ever been this eager to try a sample. Her excitement made his heart do a little flip, an unexpected warmth spreading through him.

And so, Leo continued preparing, focused on getting enough fruit for a batch. He grabbed a bag of sugar, a jar of calamansi juice, and his own secret ingredient, then began to cook the jam. The mango spirit shadowed him, her curiosity piqued by every step.

Leo couldn’t help but notice how endearing she was. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and every time she smiled, it tugged at something inside him. He found himself smiling back, the warmth in his chest growing with each passing moment.

Boil, simmer, and stir, and soon a fresh batch of Leo’s Homemade Mango Jam was officially done. He scooped a portion into a tiny bowl, then grabbed a bunch of reheated pandesal from the oven. With a satisfied smile, he set it down in front of the spirit, who was now sitting in a proper chair, practically vibrating with excitement.

The mango spirit eagerly leaned forward, her hands clasped together in anticipation. “Oh, this looks heavenly!” she exclaimed, her voice almost musical with delight. She picked up a piece of pandesal and dipped it into the jam, savoring the moment as she took her first bite.

“Mmm!” she hummed, her eyes sparkling. “This is the bestest thing I’ve ever tasted! You’re a magician, Mango Boy!” She grinned at him, clearly enjoying the jam—and the moment—with all her heart.

Leo, whose heart was now aflutter, watched her with pure delight. The way her eyes sparkled with every bite, the joy she radiated—it was contagious. He couldn’t help but smile, his grin stretching from ear to ear, feeling a warmth spread through him that was unfamiliar, yet comforting.

As the mango spirit finished the last of the jam, she looked up at Leo, her yellow eyes sparkling mischievously. “You know,” she said, her voice soft but playful, “I think I’ll have to visit you every harvest from now on.”

Leo smiled, his heart fluttering. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he replied, his voice steady but the warmth in his chest betraying him.

The mango spirit grinned, her golden hair shimmering as she stepped closer to him. She reached up, cupping his face with both hands, and before he could even process what was happening, she planted a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

Leo blinked, stunned by the unexpected gesture, as she pulled away with a bright, teasing smile. “There. A little something to remember me by.”

With a graceful twirl, she turned toward the open window, her silhouette dissolving into the fiery embrace of the setting sun. 

Leo stood still, his hand absently touching his nose where her kiss had been. A soft smile tugged at his lips. Some moments, it seemed, were sweeter than any jam.