My mother composed herself and tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharpening as she crossed her arms.
"So, are you going to let me in, or not?" She asked, her voice, now calm and measured, was far more dangerous than any angry outburst.
But to her shock, I gave her a lopsided grin and replied simply, saying, "No."
Her jaw tightened for a moment, but she quickly masked her irritation, opting for another approach.
She then seemed to have gotten an excellent idea as her purple eyes brightened. She then let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand on her chest as if I'd just wounded her deeply and said in a exaggerated manner,
"I see...My own son, the one I nurtured, fed, and raised with every ounce of love I had, is now so cold that he won't even let me in from the pouring rain."
I chuckled at her obviousness, but she wasn't done.
"I came here to check on you, to make sure you were safe and healthy...But what do I get?...The door slammed in my face like I'm some stranger."
"...Is this how you repay me after everything I've done for you?" Her eyes glistened, and her voice softened into a sorrowful tone, brimming with guilt-tripping finesse.
Her gaze locked on mine, and I could already feel the weight of her 'everything I've done for you' speech coming.
"Do you remember..." She began, her voice growing even softer. "...when you were five and caught that terrible fever? I stayed up all night nursing you back to health, even though I was already exhausted...Or the time when you broke your arm, and I carried you all the way to the hospital myself because the car wouldn't start?...What about the time I spent an entire week sewing your school costume when you told me at the last minute that you needed it?"
"But no...It seems like none of that matters anymore. My son has grown up and forgotten all the sacrifices his mother made for him...Instead, he leaves her standing in the rain, drenched, while he stands there so heartlessly." She let out another dramatic sigh, shaking her head.
Her performance was flawless. If I didn't know her better, I might have felt genuinely guilty. But I knew this game all too well, and I wasn't about to fold just yet.
"Mom, I've got to give you more credit." I said, applauding her performance. "You've perfected this guilt trip routine. I almost feel bad...Almost."
Her brow twitched, and I knew my cheeky attitude was driving her closer to the edge. But that was part of the dance, wasn't it?
And seeing as her plan to enter the house wasn't working out, my mother decided to switch to another one.
To enact it, she let out a long, dismayed sigh, her shoulders slumping theatrically as if the weight of the world had just been placed upon them.
"Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn't, Luca." She lamented, her tone brimming with exaggerated sorrow. She then continued as her hands spread in a helpless gesture, "The rain is pouring so heavily, and the roads are probably flooded...Do you want your own mother to stand out here, drenched, catching a cold just because you refuse to let her inside?"
"...Surely, you could at least let me in until the rain lets up, right?" Her pitiful eyes locked onto mine, brimming with utter desperation.
I might have fallen for it—if I didn't know her better.
'The rain won't let up for days, maybe even a week. Perfect...That gives me plenty of time to stay with my Luca.' I could practically hear her inner thoughts as clearly as if she'd said them aloud.
But I wasn't going to let her get the upper hand so easily. I smirked as I blocked the door and said,
"Oh, don't worry about that, Mom. I've got you covered."
Her brows lifted slightly in intrigue, and she tilted her head, waiting for me to continue, not understanding where I was going with this.
"I'll immediately call over a fleet of cars and even a security team to make sure you get back home safely." I said, feigning concern. "They'll make sure not a single drop of rain touches you, so there's no need for you to stay in this shabby little house of mine...Problem solved."
Her mouth opened slightly, but before she could respond, I added,
"And while you wait, I'll even bring out some towels for you to dry off—right here on the porch, of course."
Her face froze in a mixture of disbelief and frustration. For a moment, I thought I could hear the thoughts in her head turning as she tried to process my audacity.
"You're not even going to let me wait inside until they arrive?" She asked in an exasperated manner, realising that she had actually raised the devil as her son.
"Nope." I replied with a grin, watching as her composure slipped just a bit further.
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. This wasn't how she had planned for things to go. I could almost see the cracks forming in her cheeky scheme, though I knew better than to think she'd give up.
"Ruthless..." She finally muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as if silently vowing revenge.
"You really are ruthless, Luca." She continued, saying her voice even but carrying a quiet edge that sent warning bells ringing in my head. "Cold enough to see through even my best acting."
"Best acting? Is that what you're calling it now?" I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms casually to mask my nerves.
"Yes." She replied smoothly, lifting her chin in that regal way of hers. "And do you know who taught me? Your other mother, whose entire career focuses on her divine acting skills...She especially taught me some stuff to guilt trip you back into coming to live with us again."
"Ah." I said, as I thought about my other mother she was talking about, who was a world-renowned actress. "That explains a lot; these types of schemes are definitely up her ally...Though I hate to break it to you, Mom, your 'world-class' skills aren't as flawless as you think."
"Is that so? Well, maybe you've grown too used to my tricks." She tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
"Or maybe I'm just that good at calling them out." I countered, trying to match her calm but feeling the air shift between us.
"Perhaps. But let me remind you of something, my dear boy." Her smirk grew wider, though her eyes remained sharp.
"And what's that?" I asked, my tone light but my stomach tightening instinctively.
"That I'm your mother." She said, her voice softening but gaining an unmistakable weight. "And as ruthless as you think you are, I'm far more dangerous when I put my mind to it."
I blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in her words. The way she said it wasn't a threat—it was a promise. My mother never bluffed...If she said something, she meant every word of it.
"Right." I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Her smirk deepened, her calm composure sending another chill up my spine.
"If you don't let me in..." She began, her tone smooth but resolute, "...I'll simply step out from under this cover and into the rain. I'll let myself get absolutely drenched, soaked to the bone, until you finally open the door and let me inside."
I froze, my gaze darting toward the storm raging just beyond the porch. The rain was torrential, battering the ground with such force it was starting to pool, and the wind howled as if daring anyone to defy it.
I turned back to her, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"You wouldn't dare, especially knowing how much you hate the cold and rain in general." I said, though my voice wavered slightly.
"Oh, darling, you know I would." Her smirk widened, her calm expression unwavering.
"Mom..." I began, trying to keep my voice steady, "That's insane. You're not going out there...The storm would practically sweep you off your feet and send you to the next city...I'd have to deploy a team just to find which tree you landed in."
"Well, that's up to you, isn't it?" She replied, shrugging one shoulder. "You have two choices: let me in or let me brave the elements until you change your mind."
"That's not a choice." I muttered, already feeling the cracks in my resolve but still not wanting to lose against her.
Her eyes glinted with that infuriating mix of confidence and determination that told me she wasn't bluffing...Not this time. My mother wasn't just being stubborn—she was dead serious.
And just like she said, to prove she wasn't lying, my mother turned around with a confident smile, her gaze fixed firmly ahead.
She knew how to make an exit, even in the most unpredictable situations. As she walked, her smooth back gleamed under the dim light, her every step purposeful. The curves of her rear swayed gently, almost as if she were on a catwalk, unbothered by the torrential downpour surrounding her.
She moved steadily towards the rain, completely unfazed by the relentless onslaught of water, as though she were walking into the stage lights. Her determination radiated, and for a moment, I couldn't help but be impressed by her composure.
But panic quickly seized me.
I knew better than anyone that my mother didn't bluff. She wasn't the type to play around when it came to getting what she wanted. Her unpredictability was her most dangerous weapon, and I knew she wasn't afraid to use it.
But I knew I couldn't take my chances with her. As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't sure how far she would go with her little stunt. And with my heart in my throat, I couldn't bear the thought of her actually stepping out into the rain, so I called out to her just as she was about to exit the cover and make her way into the garden.
"Fine." I sighed, already feeling my resolve slip. "You can stay inside until the rain lets up, but once it calms down, you have to leave, understand?"
For a brief moment, there was silence.
She didn't say anything...She just stood there, looking out at the pouring rain, and for a second, I thought maybe she was reconsidering.
But then she turned around, and there it was—a sneaky little smile creeping across her face. It was one of those smiles that made my stomach churn with both affection and dread, the kind that told me I'd just walked right into her trap.
It was so damn cute, but I knew exactly what it meant.
Before I could react, she darted toward the door, swift as ever. I barely had time to move as she ducked under my arms and practically skipped inside. The victorious look on her face was unmistakable as she stood behind, and she had a glint in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine.
...She finally was in.