What Happens To The Pumpkin In No Dinner! The Story Of The Old Woman And The Pumpkin?

Danice left the divorce papers on the bedside table. Ten years. She endured and stayed silent—all for the sake of love. Despite the opposition from those around her, she clung tightly to her position as Julian’s wife, believing that he cared for her. But it was all just her delusion. It had been ten years of a loveless marriage. Danice touched the burn scar on her face. This disfigured face had become both her shame… and her proof of love for him. But what she didn’t realize was that it had also become the chain that bound him to this lifeless marriage. He had married her… out of pity. That realization hurt more than any insult others hurled at her because of her appearance. She had held him back for ten years. And she had suffered enough. It was time to let go. Danice finally realized that her ten-year marriage had been a shackle—for both of them. Just as she found the strength to let go of the love that had never been returned… death came for her. When she thought she had stepped into the afterlife, she opened her eyes— Eleven years in the past. Unmarried. She hadn’t even met Julian yet. Danice believed that a merciful God had taken pity on her and granted her a second chance— A chance to live for herself, to love herself. And so, that’s exactly what she did. She avoided meeting Julian at all costs, and even found a way to escape the accident that had once disfigured her face. Everything seemed to be going smoothly— But... Why was the man who had never once looked her way… suddenly appearing everywhere she went? This… this wasn’t like the past at all!

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

My husband Hades gave another woman my birthday celebration. Then he gave her my mother’s brooch. Then he let our son call her home. Nympha was the flower spirit who had grown up beside him. The healers said a curse was killing her, and she had only six months left before she disappeared forever. Hades said he only wanted her final days to be free of regret. So I was expected to be generous. Even when our five-year-old son, Eren, curled up beside her at the hearth and whispered that she felt more like home than I did, I still told myself he was only a child. Then one night, I heard him say to Hades, “Nympha is so gentle. So beautiful. I wish Mother could be more like her.” Hades only smiled. “Your mother is strict because she wants what is best for you,” he said. “But if you like Nympha so much, I can let her stand beside you at the family altar. She can bless you like a second mother.” That was when I finally understood. My husband had already given her my place. And my son had accepted her there. So the next morning, I placed a marriage dissolution agreement before Hades. He signed it without reading, because Nympha had collapsed again and he was desperate to reach her.By the time he realized what he had signed, I was already gone. If they wanted Nympha to be the lady of the Underworld, I would grant them their wish. But why, after I left, did Hades tear the Underworld apart looking for me? Why did my son cry himself sick, begging for the mother he once pushed away? And why did the dying woman they protected so carefully suddenly stop looking so fragile?

I loved eating cakes. My dad would bring me one every day after work, and my mom bought a full set of oven and baking tools, patiently learning how to bake them for me. I once thought I was the happiest little princess in the world until the day my parents divorced. The person who came to pick up my dad turned out to be the bakery owner. My mom turned to me, growling, "This is all your fault! If you hadn't asked for cakes every day, your dad never would've cheated!" She stretched out her hands, covered in burn scars, and screamed hysterically, "I slaved away making cakes for you, and these hands have never healed since. What did you do? You both think the stuff from outside is so much better!" She grabbed a baking sheet and smacked me hard with it. I bit my lip, not daring to make a sound. That night, she brought home a little girl. Ignoring the pain all over my body, I begged for her forgiveness. "Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't throw me away. I swear I'll never eat another cake!" She slapped me across the face, but that wasn't enough to quench her anger. She tossed me into the big oven. "I'm not your mom! You love cakes so much? Stay in there and reflect on what you've done! You and your worthless dad both deserve to die!" After she slammed the door and stormed out, the little girl skipped over to the oven, grinning smugly as she hit the switch. "From now on, your mom is gonna be mine!" The oven kicked on, and the temperature began to rise. I smiled bitterly. At least this way, my mom could finally be happy.

A Halloween Romance A tiny pumpkin carved with a poem brings the colors of autumn back into her life. When Haruka discovers a miniature pumpkin in her backyard, she finds a few quiet lines of poetry carved into its skin—a mysterious “pumpkin letter” that seems to have come from the house next door. Tired of dealing with people, Haruka has returned to her late grandmother’s home in search of a quieter life. Her reserved neighbor, Minato Sasagawa, works among the plants at the local botanical garden and seems far more comfortable with flowers—and his rescued German shepherd—than with conversation. But one pumpkin letter leads to another. Through handmade gifts, shared silences, and small acts of kindness, the distance between two lonely neighbors slowly begins to disappear. Set beneath the warm glow of Halloween lanterns, The Pumpkin Letter is a gentle, heartwarming autumn romance about finding unexpected sweetness just next door.

Before my crazy grandmother died, she gave me three walnuts. According to her last wish, I cracked open the first walnut on my twenty-fifth birthday. Inside the walnut was a slip of paper. 'Go to the skybridge and grovel at the first beggar you meet' was the instruction written on it. When I looked at the note, I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Still, I did as told. To my surprise, the beggar turned out to be an undercover cop. Only later did I learn that I had long been targeted by human traffickers, and the bow had saved my life. As for the second walnut, my grandmother told me to crack it open before I got married. When I put on my wedding dress, ready to marry the policeman who saved me, I happily opened it. This time, there was a crumpled old photograph inside. In the photo, my fiancé was smiling as he strangled another bride.