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

I stood frozen, the pounding on the door growing louder and more insistent, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and unmistakable authority. 

My mind raced...How was I supposed to approach this situation from now on?

Should I go all out? Try to sweep her off her feet, woo her like a love-struck fool? The very thought sent a shiver down my spine. She'd see through me in an instant, and worse, she'd be wary of my intentions...No, that wasn't the way.

I shook my head, a small smirk forming on my lips. 

Obviously, I had to act normal. If I suddenly started behaving differently, she'd know something was up. She wasn't stupid—far from it. 

The best strategy was to play the long game. Act like the cheeky son she'd come to expect, the one who always found ways to tease her and get under her skin.

But when the right moments presented themselves, those rare, perfect opportunities, I'd strike with precision. Slowly, subtly, I'd sway her emotions, making her question the nature of our relationship. Bit by bit, I'd chip away at her defences until she could no longer deny what I felt for her.

Now, though, the immediate question was how to handle her banging on the door.

"Luca! You better open this door right now, or else!" She called, her voice stern enough to make any grown man quake.

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself. No matter what my ultimate goal was, one thing remained constant: I always enjoyed riling her up. 

She might have been strict, but she had her limits, and I'd danced on the edge of them countless times...It was practically tradition.

With that thought, I opened the door, slowly, deliberately letting it creak as I revealed my mother standing there, drenched and fuming, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and exasperation. 

Her wet hair clung to her face, and the sight of her standing in the doorway like this would have made anyone feel guilty.

But guilt wasn't exactly my go-to emotion.

I plastered on my best sheepish grin, the kind I knew annoyed her even more, and prepared myself for the warfield I was about to enter.

"Ah, Mom, I'm so sorry about that!" I said, leaning casually against the doorframe as if I hadn't just kept her standing in a cyclone. "I thought you were some kind of shady person trying to sell me something, you know? With the frantic knocking and all...I panicked, and I ended up closing the door on you! I'm so sorry for that!"

Her expression didn't change. In fact, her glare seemed to intensify as her lips pressed into a tight line.

"Really, Luca?" She said, her voice low and dripping with disbelief. "That's the excuse you're going with?" 

"Well, can you blame me?" I continued, unbothered by the daggers she was glaring my way. "The rain, the frantic bell-ringing, the bags—it was all very suspicious. I thought maybe you were here to sell me...I don't know, waterproof cookware or something."

Her brow twitched, and I could tell I was pushing my luck...But that was part of the fun, wasn't it? 

Testing her limits, seeing how far I could go before she snapped.

My beautiful mother gritted her teeth, her lips curving into a tight smile. 

"Fine. I understand." She said, her tone dripping with forced patience. Even though she obviously knew I was playing with her, she still humoured me for now. 

"So, now that we've cleared up the misunderstanding, I assume you'll let me inside, right?" With that, she tried to step forward, her hands casually reaching for the straps of her bags as if she already considered the matter settled.

But before she could take a single step, I moved into her path, standing like a wall blocking her way. My arms crossed loosely over my chest, and I gave her a look that I knew would drive her crazy.

"Excuse me." She said, her voice sharp as she stopped in her tracks. Her brow furrowed, and I could see the storm brewing behind her eyes. 

She knew better than to try and push past me, as there was no way she was going to force her way in when I was standing in front of her like this.

Her fingers twitched as she held back the urge to push me aside. Instead, she furrowed her brows and asked, her tone deceptively calm, 

"And why, may I ask, my dear son, are you not letting your mother inside?"

I didn't answer, just tilted my head slightly with an amused grin.

"Do you want me to show you my ID to prove that I'm not some scammer, Luca? Honestly, do I need to fill out a questionnaire next?" Her patience snapped just a little more. 

The corners of my lips twitched, but I said nothing.

Her fists clenched briefly at her sides before she forced herself to relax. She was already on the brink of exploding, and I could see the flicker of irritation in her purple eyes...But she held back—barely. 

She knew me too well. If she let herself lose her temper now, I'd shut her out again, no questions asked.

No, she needed to get inside first. Then she could unleash her wrath, which I could tell she was holding onto like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

"Honestly, Mom, I'd much rather let a salesperson into my house than you." I suddenly said, my tone laced with mock seriousness.

Her brow arched dangerously, and I quickly continued before she could interrupt. 

"At least a salesperson would scam me into buying some overpriced miracle product and then leave...You, on the other hand..." I gave her a pointed look.

"Oh? And what about me?" She crossed her arms, her purple eyes narrowing. 

"You'd tell me you're just stopping by for an hour to check on how I'm doing, and then—next thing I know—you're here for an entire week, refusing to leave no matter what I say." I said, pretending to shudder at the memory.

Her lips parted in disbelief, but I was already lost in my thoughts. I couldn't help but recall the last time it happened. 

She had insisted it was a quick visit, just to see if I was eating well, keeping the place clean, and taking care of myself properly...But one hour turned into an afternoon, which turned into days.

And every time I tried to get her to leave, she'd come up with excuse after excuse. 

"It's already so late; I shouldn't drive home now." 

"Oh, I can't leave until I've taught you how to make that soup you loved as a kid." 

"What kind of mother would I be if I didn't make sure my son was okay for a few more days?"

Of course, at the time, I had been elated...Spending time with her, the person I loved more than anyone else in the world, had been perfect. 

But it had also been hell.

I had to keep my emotions in check, to suppress every urge to show her just how much she meant to me. And every second of that week had been a test of my resolve.

That's when I'd learnt that my mother didn't just visit; she nested. She attached herself like a stubborn vine, wrapping herself around my life in a way that made it impossible to push her away completely.

It was why I'd resolved to be on guard against her charm and persistence. She was too quick to settle in, too quick to break down my defences.

But now things were different...Now, I had a goal.

Letting her into my house today was the perfect opportunity to start the process of breaking through her own defenses. To shift our relationship into something...more.

Still, I couldn't let her in too easily. That would be far too suspicious. She knew me too well. If I just opened the door and invited her inside, she'd immediately sense something was up.

No, I needed to play my usual game first. Ramble, tease, and exasperate her just enough before finally giving in.

I looked back at her, pretending to consider, saying, 

"You see, Mom, I've learnt to be cautious. Letting you in is a risky move."

Her glare sharpened, and I could practically hear her patience wearing thin.

I crossed my arms, keeping my grin intact, and continued saying,

"Besides, I've already told you, Mom. If you're going to visit, you need to inform me first...It's common courtesy, you know."

"Oh, I see. So now a mother has to ask permission to visit her own son? What's next?...Scheduling appointments?" Her brow shot up, and her tone turned biting, unable to believe that I was saying such a thing to my own mother.

I smirked, shrugging casually, and said,

"Exactly. It saves us both a lot of trouble. Like, oh, I don't know...Avoiding a repeat of what happened the last time you barged into my house unannounced."

That got her.

Her confident posture faltered, and her face turned an amusing shade of red. Embarrassment and irritation flared in her eyes as she clearly recalled whatever that day entailed. 

"You—" She started, but her voice caught, her words stuck somewhere between denial and indignation.

It was rare to see her flustered, but when it happened, it was glorious.

After a brief pause, her eyes narrowed into a glare, and she straightened herself with renewed determination. 

"Is there anyone in your bedroom right now? U-Unlike last time." She demanded, her voice sharp with accusation as she looked behind me to see if there were any other 'guests'.

I raised an eyebrow at the question, watching her expression carefully. She was trying to seem composed, but I could see the simmering frustration beneath her cool demeanour.

"No, there's no one in there, Mom...I didn't feel like bringing back anyone today, not to mention going out is impossible in this climate." I said with a little smirk on my face. 

She studied my face intently, as if gauging whether I was telling the truth. Only when she seemed satisfied did she let out a subtle sigh of relief.

"Good...I don't want a repeat of what happened last time." She muttered under her breath. 

But her expression still carried a mix of exasperation and residual embarrassment, as if the memory of whatever happened previously was a wound that hadn't fully healed.

Meanwhile, I couldn't help but feel a little smug. It was rare for the tables to turn like this, and I wasn't about to let the moment pass without savouring how adorable my mother looked with her cheeks flushed.