The Algorithm of Affection: A Pre-Nuptial Study!

Special Chapter: The Case of the Missing Mango and the Couch Confession

The Chankimha-Armstrong household, usually a fascinating blend of logical order and artistic chaos, was thrown into delightful disarray by a crisis of epic (at least, five-year-old epic) proportions: the Great Mango Mystery.

Nina, perched on a kitchen stool with the serious air of a seasoned detective, surveyed the scene. "The data indicates," she announced, pointing a small finger at the empty fruit bowl, "a 98.7% probability that the aforementioned Mangifera indica specimen has been…displaced."

Becky, attempting to make a semblance of dinner amidst the investigative fervor, sighed dramatically. "Displaced? Honey, it's missing. Someone ate the mango."

Freen, ever the meticulous observer, was meticulously dusting the countertop for… evidence. "It is crucial to establish a clear timeline of events and potential points of ingress and egress. Did anyone observe the mango in its designated location within the last 3.4 hours?"

Just then, Heng and Nam arrived, bearing gifts of questionable culinary merit (Heng had brought a durian, much to Becky’s immediate horror, and Nam a bag of suspiciously bright pink cookies). Irin trailed behind them, a knowing smirk on her face, sensing the delightful chaos brewing.

"What's with the CSI Bangkok?" Nam asked, wrinkling his nose at the durian. "Did someone finally try to eat Heng's… biohazard?"

"A mango has gone missing," Nina declared with grave importance. "And we are conducting a thorough forensic analysis."

Heng, ever the instigator, crouched down to Nina’s level. "Did you check for tiny mango-loving footprints? Or maybe a trail of sticky residue?"

Nina’s eyes widened. "Sticky residue! A crucial variable! Mama Becky, may I have a collection swab?" She held up a stray napkin expectantly.

Becky, stirring a pot that smelled vaguely of desperation, groaned. "Just… look around, sweetie."

The search commenced, a comical parade of adults and a pint-sized detective crawling under tables and peering behind curtains. Freen, armed with a magnifying glass (borrowed from Nina’s science kit), meticulously examined a stray crumb on the floor.

"Hypothesis," Freen announced, holding up the crumb with tweezers. "This appears to be… biscuit. Unrelated to the missing Mangifera indica."

Suddenly, a loud thump came from the living room. Everyone rushed in to find Nina standing proudly beside a slightly lopsided tower of building blocks, a distinct yellow stain adorning the top block. And nestled amongst the blocks, looking slightly bruised but undeniably present, was the missing mango.

Becky stared, dumbfounded. "Nina… what did you do?"

Nina beamed. "I was testing its structural integrity under varying degrees of gravitational pressure. The data suggests it can withstand a vertical drop of approximately 0.7 meters before experiencing significant deformation."

Freen, however, stepped forward quickly, placing herself strategically between Becky and the mango-tower. "An… innovative approach to materials science, Becky. Perfectly safe, controlled conditions." She subtly nudged the tower with her foot, causing it to wobble precariously.

Becky’s eyes narrowed. "Freen… did you know about this?"

Freen offered an innocent smile. "I was merely observing Nina's… methodology. Purely for research purposes, of course."

Heng and Nam exchanged amused glances, while Irin stifled a giggle.

Later that evening, after a dinner punctuated by Nina’s detailed explanation of mango aerodynamics, Becky found Freen meticulously wiping down the living room carpet with a determined expression.

"What are you doing?" Becky asked, arms crossed.

"Neutralizing potential residual stickiness," Freen explained, not looking up. "Ensuring a contaminant-free environment."

Becky sighed. "Freen, you let our daughter use a perfectly good mango as a drop-test subject."

"It was a valuable learning experience!" Freen protested. "Think of the data we acquired!"

Becky’s patience finally snapped, albeit with a loving exasperation. "The only data I'm interested in right now is the data on how comfortable our couch is."

Freen looked up, confused. "The couch? For what purpose?"

"For your sleeping arrangements," Becky declared, pointing towards the living room with mock severity. "Tonight, you and your 'valuable learning experiences' can bond with the cushions."

Heng, Nam, and Irin, who had lingered for post-dinner chaos observation, erupted in laughter.

"But Becky—" Freen began, her logical mind struggling to comprehend the sudden shift in sleeping arrangements.

"No buts," Becky said, a playful glint in her eye. "Consider it a consequence of your… research methodology. Besides," she added, leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, "Nina and I need to discuss the optimal trajectory for launching water balloons at unsuspecting scientists."

Freen’s eyes widened in mock horror, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She knew when she was defeated, especially when it involved a united front of her wife and daughter.

With a dramatic sigh, Freen gathered a blanket and a pillow, Heng and Nam offering exaggeratedly sympathetic pats on the back.

"Don't worry, Freen," Heng called out, suppressing a chuckle. "We'll bring you data on the couch's comfort level in the morning."

As Freen trudged towards the living room, Becky leaned against the doorframe, a loving smile on her face.
"Goodnight, Professor. Sleep tight. And maybe next time, let’s stick to picture books for physics lessons."

Freen grumbled goodnight, a small smile playing on her lips despite her temporary banishment. Even banished to the couch, surrounded by the muffled laughter of her friends and the knowledge of Becky and Nina plotting their next experiment, she wouldn’t have traded her wonderfully chaotic, hilariously frustrating life for anything.

The algorithm of affection, she had learned, often involved unexpected variables, including a night on the couch and the distinct possibility of being water balloon targets. And somehow, it was perfect.