She shrugged, her face softening. "You were worth every bit of it, Samuel."
Then, we found a picture of us at the beach. I was maybe eight, soaking wet, grinning like a maniac with my feet dug deep into the sand, jumping up as a wave hit, while she stood close by, laughing as water splashed over her legs.
"Remember that trip?" she asked, her face glowing with nostalgia.
Beside it, there was another photo of us making silly faces, arms covered in sand. "This was one of the best days," I replied, smiling at the memory. "You spent all afternoon teaching me how to dive under the waves."
"You were so scared at first," she recalled, smiling. "But once you got the hang of it, you were unstoppable. You got so addicted to surfing that I think we stayed out there for hours.
I actually had to drag you out of the water because you wouldn't come back," she reminded me, shaking her head. "You were turning into a little fish out there!"
"Oh, and this one!" I pointed to another photo in the beach section. We'd grouped all the photos from each trip together, creating a little story in every cluster. In this one, I was holding a surfboard, grinning from ear to ear.
In the next one, we were sitting proudly by a sandcastle we'd built together, both of us looking like we'd just won a grand competition.
"We had actually won the sandcastle competition! Remember? We made the biggest sandcastle ever, and everyone crowded around to see." I said happily.
"You were so proud of that castle," she replied with a smile. "And I was proud of you." she said as she dishevelled my hair out of love.
As we moved on to more photos, I spotted one from my first day of middle school, where I looked both excited and a little nervous. She pointed to another one of me surrounded by a group of girls, all of them beaming.
I groaned. "They followed me everywhere, but I only had eyes for you, remember? You were my only girl." I joked about the last part.
She smiled, clearly touched, but then shook her head. "I remember all the jealous looks I got from middle school girls! I couldn't believe it, getting jealous looks from people half my age! They'd ask their parents how they could grow up faster so they could be with you."
We laughed, remembering how some of those parents had come to her, complaining about the questions their daughters had started asking. "They said it was all your fault, you know," she teased.
"It's not my fault that I'm the most handsome guy around!" I said, shrugging as if my good looks were just an inevitable fact of life.
She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh really? That much confidence in your looks? I might have to burst that bubble of yours someday."
I laughed, giving her a playful wink. "Hey, don't blame me. I just lucked out with the best genes! And just so you know, that 'bubble' you're talking about? It's not bursting anytime soon.
I mean, it's not just girls my age fawning over me—girls five, six years older, even moms your age flirt and play around with me. And it just keeps increasing as I grow.
Just look at all my birthday photos, the number of girls just keep on increasing, did you forget what stunts you pulled whenever your friends showed up."
I said it with a grin, her expression softened slightly, a mix of pride and something deeper flashing in her eyes.
(Flashback No Jutsu)
Looking back, it was almost amusing how things had turned out. My looks had always drawn attention—whether it was my sharp features, handsome face, striking white hair, or my unique heterochromic eyes, one red and the other blue.
The contrast in my gaze seemed to captivate everyone who looked my way, sparking admiration from women and, often, envy from men. As I got older, the attention only grew, with more and more eyes turning my way, especially from women.
I looked a bit like an image straight out of Greek mythology—muscular, sculpted, and a bit rough around the edges, with strong shoulders and a physique that made me look like I could handle any challenge.
Part of the reason behind my physique was my father's genetics and his early training in Kalaripayattu, which he began teaching me when I was only two.
Unfortunately, he passed away before he could teach me the advanced techniques, but I made sure to master the basics, building a strong foundation and disciplined lifestyle.
One day, I plan to go to India, where my aunt, the current head of the family lives, who can continue my training. But that's a story for another time.
The other reason I built my body was to protect the people I care about, especially my mom. Her well-being was all that mattered to me..
But my physique just added to the attraction as with every birthday, it seemed like more girls kept showing up in the background of my photos.
At first, it was just a few here and there from the building we lived in, then it became groups. Each birthday photo had a growing number of girls smiling and standing close by, each one eager to catch my attention.
One summer, when I'd just turned seventeen, a group of college girls—five, six years older than me—had come to my birthday party with some mutual friends. I remember one of them leaning in close, her eyes playful.
"So, Samuel, when are you going to come to our campus and show these boys what a real man looks like?" she teased, her voice light but with a certain gleam in her eye.
My mom had stood nearby, watching like a hawk, probably trying not to roll her eyes too visibly. But I could see her exasperated smile as the girls kept dropping hints, hoping I'd show up at their next party or grab coffee with them.
Then, there was that day at the mall. I'd gone shopping with my mom, and as we were walking through the stores, a group of my mom's friends Linda, Karen, Sarah, and Diane—spotted us and wasted no time coming over to chat.
Linda, who always seemed to have a playful glint in her eye, looked me up and down, her smile widening as she did. "Well, well, Samuel," she said with a wink, barely holding back a grin. "When did you turn into such a heartthrob?
If you keep growing up like this, we might just have to steal you away from Esther for ourselves." She laughed, clearly enjoying the way my mom's face tightened ever so slightly at her words.
Karen, with her bright red lipstick and infectious laugh, gave me a gentle nudge. "Honestly, Esther, you're lucky you get to walk around with him," she said, glancing at me with a playful smile. "Having a son who looks like this? Helping you carry the heavy stuff.
My own boys barely look up from their screens to help me carry the groceries inside, let alone take care of me, growing lazy by the day. Meanwhile, Samuel here looks like he'd do anything to look out for his mom.
He's like a limited edition person. Don't be surprised if we borrow him for one of our girls' nights—he'd be the star of the evening!"
My mom's smile was proud as she heard them speak of me, but the subtle tightness in her grip on my arm showed she didn't quite appreciate the way they looked at me.
Sarah, the boldest of the group, leaned in with a smirk. "Samuel, have you ever thought about joining us at the country club sometime? I'm sure all the ladies there would be thrilled to see a naturally handsome young man like you," she said, her eyes sparkling.
"My husband, Gary, barely glances my way these days—too busy with his work and golf buddies. But you, Samuel, you're exactly the kind of gentleman who would turn heads left and right."
She threw a quick wink my way and gave my mom a knowing smirk. "Esther, you've raised quite the charmer. Don't mind if we borrow him once in a while—to help us make a good impression in public.
As I would rather take Samuel with me to a gathering or event than my own husband, who would just get me embarrassed in front of everyone with his antics and food addiction.
You'd do that for us, right, Samuel?" She flashed me a playful smile that briefly turned flirtatious before switching to a puppy-dog look, practically pleading.
"Y-Yeah, sure," I replied, scratching my cheek, not really sure what else to say.
Diane, usually the quieter one, finally chimed in, her voice soft but with a hint of admiration. "Maybe we should make him our 'personal trainer' for the next book club meeting. He could help us get in shape.
Diane gave a small laugh, her eyes twinkling with humor. "I swear, if I don't start exercising soon, I'll end up like my husband—permanently glued to the couch—and my son, whose only workout is scrolling on his phone and eating chips.
I can't let their habits rub off on me, if that happened I might just turn into a couch potato myself, and that's the last thing I want." She turned to me with a playful smile, tracing a light finger along my broad shoulders.
"But you, Samuel… I feel like you'd be the perfect motivation to keep me on my toes, getting me up and running, making sure I'm in perfect shape, if not for my husband then at least for you."
With every compliment, I noticed my mom's gaze shifting. She was proud, yes—any mom would be with the way they spoke so highly of me— when comparing me with their husbands and sons, but there was something else there too.
Her laughter didn't quite reach her eyes, and I felt her arms encircle mine, as her grip tightened around my hand, pulling me just a little closer.
It was as if she needed to remind everyone—and herself—that I was hers, her son, the one who had been by her side through everything.
Author's Note:
Hey everyone! Just a quick update: my main focus is currently my MHA fic, so this new story will have slower updates. But if you're want to read ahead, I've got some special options for you on Patreon!
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