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

The cyclone raging outside suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the storm of emotions welling up inside me. My body locked in place, my mind refusing to catch up with reality as I stared at her, my mother, standing drenched on my doorstep like a vision pulled straight out of my television screen.

While I was awestruck at my mother's arrival and was slightly panicking since I wasn't expecting her to appear at my doorstep out of nowhere, especially when there was a storm raging outside, she had a rather different reaction when she saw her only son open up the door.

I didn't know if it was because she had been standing in the rain for who knows how long, ringing the bell like her life depended on it, only to find her son frozen like a statue. Or if it was because I had been ignoring her frequent calls for weeks now, giving her no clue as to what I was doing and making her constantly worry about me.

But my mother was looking at me with a look of frustration and slight anger on her ravishing face, her purple eyes narrowing as if she were already preparing the lecture I knew was coming. 

Everyone knew just how worked up mothers got when their calls were ignored by their children, so one could easily imagine how furious my mother was the moment, looking like she was going to sink her fangs into my neck.

Well, that was until she actually caught a glimpse of my face—The face of her darling son that she hadn't seen in a long time. 

The moment her eyes landed on me, everything else seemed to fall away. The rain drenching her, the bags weighing her down, the frustration that had simmered beneath her elegant demeanor—all of it evaporated in an instant.

Her gaze softened, her violet eyes brimming with emotions too vast to name. In that fleeting second, I could see it all: the memories of spoon-feeding me as a child, coaxing me to eat with her gentle smiles; the countless times she'd patched up my scrapes and bruises after I'd come running home from an adventure gone wrong; the endless nights she'd stayed up just to make sure I was safe, warm, and happy.

It was as if all those moments flashed before her eyes, every worry and anger dissolving, replaced by something far deeper—a profound sense of relief. 

Relief that, after all this time, she was finally here, standing face-to-face with her son. Relief that no distance or silence could truly sever the bond she cherished more than anything.

Her lips parted, the beginnings of my name forming on her tongue. Her expression had softened entirely now, her previous frustration replaced by an overwhelming warmth, happiness, and undeniable love. She was ready to close the gap between us, to envelop me in the kind of embrace that could make the world and all its troubles fade away.

"Luca, you—"

Bang!~

But before she could even utter a single syllable, the door slammed shut.

I didn't think...My body acted before my mind could catch up, and by the time the realisation hit me, the door was already closed, leaving her stunned and me frozen on the other side.

I stood there, staring at the closed door, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't know why I slammed it shut. Maybe it was because I wasn't ready to face her. 

Not like this, not when she'd appeared so suddenly, drenched from the rain, bags in hand, looking every bit like the ethereal woman I'd just seen on TV.

Or maybe it was because of how I'd always acted whenever she tried to visit me. It wasn't the first time I'd panicked and avoided her, after all.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because I knew.

I knew what she had come here for. I knew what I had to do. I had to change the dynamic between us, to shift our relationship from mother and son to...lovers. Even just thinking about it made my throat dry and my palms clammy. 

How was I supposed to pull that off?

Or, perhaps it was all of the above.

But what I did know, without a shred of doubt, was that my mother had a side to her that no one else knew about.

To the world, she was an angel...The perfect wife. 

The epitome of a loving, graceful, and cheerful mother who could do no wrong. That was the version of her everyone admired, worshipped, and adored through their screens.

But there was another side to her.

A side that only came out when she was dealing with a son who didn't listen to her words. A side that could wipe the smile off my face faster than any cyclone ever could.

The nagging mother… The overconcerned and overprotective force of nature who wouldn't give up on her son, no matter how much he tried to push her away. She had her ways—strict and sometimes exasperating, but they were always laced with love, even if it wasn't obvious at first glance.

Like the time I tried to skip breakfast before an early class. I'd barely made it out the door when I heard her sharp voice behind me. 

"Not so fast, Luca!" She'd shoved a packed meal into my hands, looking both annoyed and concerned. ''If you think I'm letting you starve just because you're late, you've got another thing coming.''

Or the time I stayed out past curfew, thinking she wouldn't notice. As soon as I stepped inside, there she was, arms crossed and glaring at me from the couch. 

"You think I'm angry because you're late?" She said after a long silence. "No, I'm upset because I worried about you the entire time. Just tell me next time, so I know you're safe."

And then there was the time I came down with the flu but insisted I could still take care of myself. She didn't even argue. Instead, she stayed up all night by my bedside, making sure I took my medicine on time and had everything I needed. When I finally asked why she hadn't rested, she'd shrugged and said, 

"Mothers don't take breaks when their children are unwell."

Her love was relentless and sometimes overwhelming, but it was never insincere. She nagged, she scolded, and she held me to a high standard, but she was also the first person to pick me up when I stumbled.

And now, as I stood behind the closed door with her voice demanding I let her in, I could hear that same determination—strict yet undeniably caring. 

The overbearing mother was here, as fierce and loving as ever, and I had no doubt she'd break down the door if she had to.

"Open this door right now, Luca!" Her voice, firm and commanding, shot through the air. 

It wasn't the warm, gentle tone she used on her show...No, this was the tone that had me instinctively standing straighter even as a grown adult.

"Don't make me say it again, young man!" She snapped, the banging growing louder.

I swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

Maybe slamming the door hadn't been my best idea after all...