Seven Mothers: All Seven Of My Mothers Are Heavenly Goddesses?!

It was a photo of a large canvas covered in doodles—some intricate and beautiful, while others were…let's just say they wouldn't win any art contests.

A giraffe with three legs, a lopsided sun, a stick figure holding a balloon. It was chaotic, colourful, and brimming with the charm of imperfection...And yet, it was unmistakably familiar.

"Luca…Is this what I think it is?" Her eyebrows raised, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

I froze, realising too late what she'd seen. A wave of heat crept up my neck, and I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. It is," I admitted, my voice lower than usual. "I, uh…I kind of forgot I had that as my wallpaper."

She chuckled softly, her fingers gently tracing the screen as if trying to feel the memories etched into the image. "The family painting." She murmured, her voice a blend of nostalgia and warmth. "I can't believe you kept this, Luca."

I stayed silent, unsure of what to say as she continued, her smile deepening.

"Do you remember the day we made this? It was supposed to be just a lazy afternoon, and then one of your mothers came home with that ridiculously large canvas...She said it was a gift from one of her artist friends and wanted to try something creative. But instead of painting something elegant or profound, we decided to turn it into a giant doodle board."

Her gaze softened, and she let out a light laugh.

"We pushed all the furniture aside to make room, and suddenly, everyone had markers, crayons, and paints in their hands...It was chaos, but the best kind of chaos."

Her finger hovered over the giraffe. "This…This was yours, wasn't it? The famous three-legged giraffe. You were so proud of it, insisting it didn't need four legs to be happy. We all teased you endlessly about it, but you wouldn't budge."

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I watched her. She was so engrossed in the memory, it was like she was transported back to that day.

"And then there was the 'cat'." She continued, giggling softly. "Your mothers argued over whose drawing was the worst, and then someone added a stick figure riding the cat like a horse. It was such a mess, but it was ours."

Her eyes drifted to another part of the canvas, her voice lowering. "Oh, and the sun. One of your mothers spent forever trying to draw a perfect sun in the corner, but every time she added something, it smudged. By the end, it looked like it was melting...She was so annoyed, but everyone else was laughing so hard, we couldn't breathe."

She paused, clutching the phone closer to her chest like it was a precious relic. "That day was so perfect. No schedules, no responsibilities—just us, being silly and happy together...It was one of those rare times when the world felt like it stopped, and nothing else mattered but being with each other."

"I miss those moments, Luca. I miss having everyone together, laughing, and being a family." Her voice softened even more, almost breaking.

I didn't say anything...I couldn't.

The warmth and longing in her voice said everything. I just sat there, letting her words wash over me while the memories she painted in vivid detail filled the silence between us.

Her cheeky grin widened as she tilted the phone slightly, looking at me with a playful glint in her eyes. "So…Why exactly do you have this as your wallpaper, Luca?" She asked, her tone dripping with faux innocence. "Didn't think you were the sentimental type, Luca. Or maybe it's because you're too shy to admit you miss us?"

I rolled my eyes, relaxing back on the sofa with a scoff. "Miss you? Please. I just didn't like any of the other wallpapers I had, so I threw this one on there randomly."

"Oh, really? Randomly, huh? Sure it wasn't because you like looking at something that reminds you of home?...You're not fooling anyone, you know." Her knowing smile deepened as she leaned a bit closer, her teasing gaze making me shift uncomfortably.

"Believe what you want, Mom." I sighed, crossing my arms.

She chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "Well, if you ever want to take a closer look at the original canvas, you know where to find it. It's still hanging in the living room, right where you left it." Her voice took on a sing-song quality, clearly hoping to coax a reaction out of me.

Of course, I ignored her, fixing my gaze on the television. She shook her head with a small smile.

"Stubborn as ever."

Deciding to move on, she turned her attention back to the phone. But when she tried to swipe up, the lock screen appeared. She paused, blinking in realisation.

"Oh, it's locked." She muttered, glancing up at me with a raised eyebrow. She then extended the phone toward me and asked, "Alright, unlock it for me...I know you won't tell me your password no matter how much I ask, so just unlock it and give it back to me."

But to her shock, without looking away from the TV, I casually said, "120388."

"Wait…What?" She froze, blinking at me in disbelief.

"That's the code." I repeated, my tone flat and uninterested.

Her eyes widened as she clutched the phone tighter, staring at me like I'd just confessed a deep, dark secret. "Y-You're just…giving it to me? Just like that?...No fight? No excuses? No snarky comments?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" I turned my head slightly, finally glancing at her.

Her jaw dropped further, and her hand trembled slightly as she held the phone. "My son…My precious son! Does this mean you trust me now? You trust your dear, loving mother enough to share something so personal?"

I chuckled under my breath. Her dramatic outburst was so on-brand it almost didn't surprise me.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this day?" She continued, clutching the phone to her chest as though it were a cherished treasure. "This is a turning point in our relationship! A sign that you're finally letting me back into your life! Luca, my baby, my angel, my—"

"Relax, Mom." I interrupted, smirking. "You're getting ahead of yourself."

Her glowing smile dimmed ever so slightly as she asked, "W-What do you mean?"

"I didn't tell you the code because I trust you. I told you because you can't open it anyway without my presence." I said as I threw a handful of popcorn in my mouth.

"W-What?...What do you mean by that?" Her expression froze, and for a moment, she just stared at me like I'd slapped her.

"You see, my phone has custom facial recognition, fingerprint scanning, GPS tracking, and a few other security measures that I installed myself so that it could be as secure as possible...So, knowing the code isn't going to help you unless I'm literally sitting next to you."

The realisation hit her like a freight train. Her expression went from confused to betrayed in a heartbeat as she asked in an exasperated manner, "You mean to tell me I can't even use the code you just gave me? Even if I try?"

"Nope." I replied cheerfully. "It's useless without me."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and then she scowled.

"You cold-hearted little nerd! You couldn't just let me have this moment? You had to ruin it with your stupid techy nonsense?"

"Hey, I'm just being honest." I shrugged, biting back a laugh. "Plus, it's not like you're the most trustworthy when it comes to snooping around my phone."

She gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. "Snooping? Me? How dare you! I'm your mother, Luca. I have every right to—"

"Spy on me?" I cut in, raising an eyebrow.

"Keep tabs on you." she corrected, glaring at me. "And don't act so high and mighty! You probably set up all those ridiculous locks just to spite me."

"Or, you know, to keep my private life private." I shot back. "But sure, let's go with your theory."

She scoffed, crossing her arms as if preparing to launch into another playful retort, but then her expression shifted. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes lit up with sudden realisation.

She then turned to me, her voice tinged with disbelief as she slowly said, "Wait a second…"

"What now?" I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

Her gaze locked onto me, her tone quieter but filled with surprise. "The passcode you just said… Is it—" she paused, almost hesitating. "—one of your mothers' birthdays?"

I froze for a split second, cursing her perceptiveness. I scratched the back of my head and muttered, "Yeah, so?"

Hearing my confirmation, her eyes widened, shimmering with a mixture of shock and emotion, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"You used one of our birthdays as your passcode?" She asked in disbelief and emerging joy.

I immediately held up a hand, cutting her off before she could get too sentimental.

"Don't get any ideas. It's not because I'm some big softie or anything. It's just easier to remember, that's all."

Despite my attempt to downplay it, her lips curled into a soft, radiant smile, her eyes glistening with warmth. "Easier to remember, huh?" She repeated, her voice light but tinged with affection. "You're not fooling me, Luca."

"Oh, here we go." I groaned, slumping further into the couch. "Cue the emotional speech about how much this means to you."

"Oh, I don't need a speech, Luca. Just knowing you thought of us when you set something so personal is more than enough." Her smile only grew wider as she shook her head.

But then, all of a sudden, like a storm that kept on changing the direction of the wind, my mother's smile froze mid-beam, and then her eyes narrowed slightly as a thought seemed to strike her.

The warm, radiant expression faded as something darker, more dramatic, began to take its place. She straightened up, her tone eerily calm. "Wait a second…"

"W-What now?" I repeated in a tensed manner.

Her gaze turned sharp, almost accusatory, as she fixed me with a piercing stare. "Luca..." She began, her voice low and foreboding. "You said your passcode is one of your mothers' birthdays."

"Yeah." I replied cautiously, already sensing the storm brewing.

"Right..." She said, her tone deceptively even as she nodded slowly. "One of your mothers' birthdays. But…" Her eyes narrowed even further, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Why, exactly, is it her birthday and not mine?"

I blinked, utterly dumbfounded.