Unexpected Love with Mom【2】

This night stretched on forever. I had the longest dream of my life.

I don’t know when I finally woke. My eyes opened and I sat up, staring at the window. Harsh sunlight stabbed through the curtains—another perfect day.

Big, obvious wet stains marked the sheets. I stared at them, lost.

So the dream had become real.

Mom had really come to my bed last night. Mom had fucked me.

Beautiful fucking. Beautiful body. Exactly what I’d always wanted.

So why wasn’t I hard and buzzing? Why did I only feel hollow and lost?

From the moment I swallowed that Viagra until now, half my memory felt chewed away.

Everything had happened, clear as day—and yet I could barely remember any of it.

That naked woman last night… was she really Mom?

The woman who let me bury myself inside her—was that Mom?

I already knew the answer. I just couldn’t admit it.

Normally Mom would be at my bedside by now, that mix of anger and soft care in her voice, telling me to get up and eat. Today that never came.

Something was gone. I opened my eyes wide and still saw nothing.

The sun was bright, but I felt like I was sitting in a freezer.

And Mom? What was she thinking?

Did Mom only do it to save her son… or was there something else inside her?

I wanted the second possibility to be true. No matter what the truth was, Mom’s heart had to be a wreck.

I couldn’t even tell what I was thinking. Just blank, drifting fog.

But life doesn’t stop. Reality doesn’t care.

I got dressed, body and mind both wrecked, washed up half-assed. No sign of Mom anywhere in the house.

Was Mom still asleep? Or had Mom woken up and simply refused to face her own son?

Whether Mom wanted to see me or not, I needed to see Mom.

I stopped outside Mom’s bedroom door. Closed, same as always. I hesitated, then called out:

“Mom…”

Nothing.

“Mom, I’m coming in.”

Still nothing. My hand closed around the doorknob—and I couldn’t turn it.

Behind that dark wood door was Mom’s room. Mom might still be sleeping in there.

I just wanted to check if Mom was up.

So why the fuck couldn’t I open the door?

I’d sneaked in before to steal Mom’s stockings. Last night’s dream had already turned real.

Maybe because I was already standing on the edge of the cliff. One more step and I’d fall forever.

The door blurred. I rubbed my eyes and realized I was crying.

I couldn’t walk into Mom’s room. This was Mom’s space. I only ever snuck in when Mom wasn’t there. The second Mom was inside, the door locked me out.

Same as the room inside my own head.

…

I suddenly remembered months ago—when I’d slipped into Mom’s body without permission. Back then I was drowning in regret and guilt. What about now?

I didn’t know.

Then that old line floated up: if you want a woman’s heart, start with her stomach.

I’d cooked for Mom for days after that. Mom had seemed happy.

The only time I’d ever cooked for Mom. I went to the kitchen, wanting to do it again—wanting to make that egg custard Mom loved and maybe make Mom smile one more time.

That’s me. I only try to make Mom happy after I’ve already hurt Mom.

Does someone like me even love Mom?

My arm was still in the sling, everything clumsy as hell. I managed to crack two eggs, stirred the whites and yolks together with my left hand, added water, green onion, a little lard, and set the bowl in the steamer.

It was a fucking struggle.

When I figured it was done I lifted the lid. Steam billowed. I dampened a tissue, pinched the hot rim, and started to lift the bowl out.

“What are you doing?”

Mom’s cold voice came from right behind me. I jumped. The bowl was still scalding, my left hand weak—next thing I knew the porcelain slipped. A sharp crack, and the egg custard splattered across the tile.

Mom stood in the kitchen doorway, grocery bag in one hand, brows drawn tight as Mom stared at me.

Mom had only gone out to buy food.

“I… I wanted…” I stammered, trying to say I was making Mom’s favorite egg custard. The words died halfway. Too obvious. Too desperate.

Mom glanced at the mess on the floor. Mom’s brows tightened further, but Mom’s expression turned complicated, almost lost. Only then did I notice the heavy dark circles under Mom’s eyes. Mom looked wrecked.

Were those tear tracks at the corners of Mom’s eyes? Or just no sleep?

If Mom couldn’t sleep, it was because Mom had been crying. So yes—tear tracks.

Silence stretched, cold and heavy. Mom finally let out a quiet breath, set the grocery bag on the counter, walked over, and said flatly:

“Go sit at the table and wait for breakfast.”

I dragged myself out of the kitchen and sat at the dining table like a kicked dog.

A little later the smell of porridge drifted out. Mom kept checking the pot, every movement careful and precise.

Mom who could do everything—run a house, cook, look perfect. Had I really taken Mom? No. Last night was just an accident.

After a long time Mom carried over a bowl of lean-meat porridge and set it in front of me. No second bowl for Mom.

“Aren’t you eating?” I looked up at Mom, confused.

Mom’s voice was ice. “Already ate.”

There had been zero signs of cooking when I was in the kitchen.

The past few days Mom had spoon-fed me. Today Mom didn’t even try.

I deliberately left the spoon untouched, waiting. Mom stood there, shot me an irritated look.

“Your hand looks better. When you finish, leave the bowl. Come to my room. We need to talk.”

Then Mom turned and walked away, leaving me alone at the table.

The porridge Mom made still tasted the same—perfect. I held the spoon in my left hand and ate it slow, one careful mouthful at a time.

Before long the bowl was empty. Mom’s words from earlier still echoed in my head. I walked to Mom’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Mom.”

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open. Mom was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed straight ahead, waiting for me.

I stopped beside Mom and stood there with my head down like a good boy. Mom kept staring at the wardrobe, hands braced on the mattress, saying nothing.

I stole a look at Mom. Mom’s eyes were empty, Mom’s face exhausted—like Mom had been through a long, hard illness.

The pillow at the head of the bed was soaked with wide tear stains.

Something twisted hard in my chest. I lifted my head and called softly:

“Mom…”

Mom’s gaze came back. Mom turned slowly and looked at me, then let out a quiet breath.

“Feeling any better?”

Even now, the first thing Mom asked about was my body. Tears burned behind my eyes. I nodded.

“And the hand?”

“Doesn’t hurt. Just weak.”

Mom gave a small nod and stayed still for a moment.

“Mom… I’m sorry. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to repay you.” My voice cracked. Silence stretched. Mom’s brows drew together slightly. Mom sighed, then spoke in that heavy, careful way only Mom could:

“You’re my son. Don’t you dare think you owe me anything. If you really want to repay Mom, then from now on you be good. Study hard. Get into a good university. Find a decent job. Marry a girl, have kids, build a life. Live it quiet and safe until the end.”

Mom’s words—full of hope—hit me like a fist. Tears spilled without warning.

I didn’t know what to say. The future Mom wanted for me was supposed to be the perfect one.

Mom’s eyes stayed locked on mine. Maybe it was just me, but Mom’s eyes looked wet too.

Then Mom reached out with both hands, took one of mine, and held it. Mom’s gaze was soft and full of desperate hope.

“Promise Mom. Don’t think about those filthy things anymore. From this day on I’m still just your Mom. Okay?”

Those “filthy things” Mom meant—no need to spell it out. The incest. The things that broke every rule.

This was the first time in my life Mom had almost begged me. Faced with that, did I even have a choice?

I cried and said:

“Okay…”

My mouth had no choice. But what about the part inside me?

Inside there was no other option left either. The second I tasted Mom’s body, the old me died.

The hunger to own Mom had already swallowed the mother-son line whole.

I could only bury that hunger as deep as it would go.

It was a seed that refused to die, pushing hard against the dirt, fighting to break through.

As long as it hadn’t fully grown, I could still pretend I was in control.

On the surface, nothing between Mom and me looked different. But every time I stood close to Mom, the air itself felt wrong—thick, charged—proof that nothing could ever go back.

Under Mom’s careful, constant care, the broken arm healed fast. Mom took me to the hospital to get the cast and bandages off. Feeling my right hand free again should have felt good. Instead a strange emptiness sat under the relief. Those soft hands taking care of me… would I ever feel them like that again?

The day I went back to school, Mom drove me right to the gate.

“Catch up on everything you missed. The college entrance exam is the first real turning point in your life. Suffer through these next few months and the road after will be easier.”

Mom straightened the collar of my uniform while she spoke, voice low and serious. I’d heard the same speech a hundred times. Still I answered like the perfect son:

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll study hard.”

Mom finished with the collar, pulled her hands back, and shot me a sharp look.

Mom had given me everything—even Mom’s own body. A mother’s love that crossed every line. All I had to do in return was get one good score. If I couldn’t even manage that, how the fuck could I ever look Mom in the eye again?

A month vanished. I threw everything I had into studying. I caught up on the work I’d missed and pushed my grades higher. In the monthly exam I ranked thirty-third in the whole grade.

When Mom saw the report card, quiet satisfaction lit Mom’s face. Mom didn’t say much, but from the moment Mom got out of bed until Mom left for work in that sharp professional outfit, every movement carried fresh energy.

The strong, magnetic version of Mom was back. And the feeling it left in me was something I couldn’t name—something that felt far too good.

Senior year still crushed me under constant pressure. After a full month of grinding, body and mind both felt wrecked. But every time I caught that small smile at the corner of Mom’s mouth, it all felt worth it.

The day after the monthly exam was a Saturday off. Mom left early for work.

I was bored out of my skull and didn’t want to touch homework. Some short-video clips kept pushing a movie called Interstellar. Sci-fi had never been my thing, but people wouldn’t shut up about how good it was, so I paid for a membership, grabbed snacks, and stretched out on the bed in the most comfortable position I could find, ready to waste the afternoon.

As the progress bar crawled forward, the movie hit harder and harder. Worth the hype.

I was deep in it when the doorbell rang. Mom home already? I hit pause and went to the door.

The person standing there was the last one I expected.

“Dad?”

I hadn’t seen him in a long time. Extra lines of wear sat on his square face. When he saw me his mouth pulled into a small smile, then he looked past me into the apartment and asked quietly:

“Your mom home?”

“Mom’s at work.” I shook my head. Dad seemed to relax. His mouth opened like he wanted to say more, but nothing came out.

A long silence stretched. Then Dad suddenly clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“Eaten yet? If not, come with me. Dad’s treating you to a proper meal.”

I hadn’t eaten, and it had been forever since I’d seen him, so I just said, “Sure.” Relief and something like happiness flashed across Dad’s face. He took me downstairs to the parking lot.

“Get in, son.” He opened the passenger door for me like I was still a little kid. Once I was seated he shut it, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the Audi.

“Your mom… she doing okay lately?” Dad kept his eyes on the windshield while the engine idled. I buckled in.

“She’s fine.”

Was Mom fine? Probably not.

Dad’s hands stayed locked on the wheel, foot still off the gas. He lowered his head, let out a soft breath, then tried to keep it light:

“After the divorce… a lot of guys chasing your mom, right?”

The question landed wrong. That wasn’t just casual concern. Was he still hung up on Mom and fishing for information through me?

Something ugly and competitive flared in my chest before I could stop it. Then I felt disgusted with myself for feeling it at all. When I didn’t answer, Dad gave a bitter little smile and patted my shoulder again.

“Son… Dad’s sorry.”

The words didn’t follow from what he’d just said, but I understood exactly what he meant.

Was everything his fault? I had a hand in it too. And this exact result—Mom alone, available—was the one I’d been hoping for.

Guilt and something heavier rose fast. I started crying like a kid who’d fucked up.

Dad patted my shoulder once more, then finally put the car in gear.

The whole drive he kept throwing out topics, talking nonstop, and made me promise not to tell Mom about today. We pulled up at a high-end restaurant. He’d already reserved a private room. Before long the table was covered in dishes.

“Dad, there’s no way we can finish all this.”

He ruffled my hair with that soft, guilty affection.

“Just eat more.”

He clearly felt he owed me. Every word carried a little extra carefulness. Made sense. He’d barely been around when I was growing up, and after the divorce he’d vanished completely. I never cared. He probably did.

The food was actually excellent. Even so, by the time I was eighty percent full we’d barely made a dent.

“Son, Dad needs to tell you something.” He put another piece of food on my plate. I swallowed and looked at him.

“What is it?”

“I might be getting married soon.”

I froze.

“To who?”

Dad took a sip of tea to hide the awkwardness, then forced the name out:

“Katherine. Probably next month.”

Katherine. I’d never heard the name, but it had to be the woman he’d cheated with. I let the shock settle, then managed a smile.

“Then… congratulations?”

I didn’t care who he married, as long as it wasn’t Mom. Before I could think further he kept going.

“I want you there on the day.”

“That… only if Mom agrees.” I didn’t give him a straight yes. His face dimmed a little. The guilt was there, but it didn’t change anything. In my head Mom would always come first.

By the time we finished it was nearly evening. Dad dropped me at the entrance to the complex and didn’t drive inside—probably to avoid running into Mom.

I hurried upstairs and opened the door. Mom was already home, sitting at the table that was loaded with food. Waiting for me to eat with her.

“Where the hell were you? I called and you didn’t pick up. You don’t get hungry?” Mom’s eyes were sharp with annoyance. Only then did I remember I’d left my phone at home. A sudden, unearned sense of having betrayed Mom crawled up my spine. I kicked off my shoes and lied.

“Classmate dragged me out.”

“Wash your hands and eat.” Mom shot me another look but didn’t push. I washed up. The guilt sat heavy, so I didn’t tell Mom I’d already eaten. One more bowl later my stomach felt ready to split.

“I’m full.” I set the bowl down with a small belch. Mom, sitting across from me, looked up, put her chopsticks down, and frowned.

“One bowl and you’re done?”

“Yeah… maybe the weather. Appetite’s been off.” The lie made my voice sound wrong. Mom stared at me for a few seconds.

“You been eating junk outside again?”

She’d misunderstood. I took the easy out.

“Yeah. A little.”

Mom’s mouth opened like she was about to tear into me, then she just sighed and went back to her food.

A minute later the guilt started feeling stupid. And for other reasons I didn’t want to keep hiding things from Mom anymore.

“Mom… I need to tell you something.”

“Mm?” Mom glanced up.

I looked toward the living room and kept my voice low.

“But you have to promise not to get mad first.”

“What kind of mess did you get into this time?” Mom put the chopsticks down immediately, crossed her arms, and fixed those sharp phoenix eyes on me.

I gave an awkward laugh and waved it off.

“Nothing bad, nothing bad. Strictly speaking it doesn’t even have much to do with me. It just might piss you off.”

“Spit it out.”

“You can’t get mad.”

Mom’s brows knitted. Impatience edged her voice.

“Just say it. You’re a grown man—why are you dragging this out?”

“It’s just… Dad came by today.” I scratched the back of my head. Mom froze for a second, then put on a careless face.

“So your dad came to see you. He’s your father. That’s normal.” Mom paused, the corner of her mouth curling in a way I couldn’t read.

“He took you out for something good, didn’t he?”

“Nailed it.” The words slipped out before I added, “But it still wasn’t as good as your cooking.”

Mom let out a short hum. “That’s the big thing you needed to tell me?”

“Uh…”

Mom crossed one leg over the other, phoenix eyes narrowing. “So you thought I’d get angry over that?” I nodded on instinct, then immediately shook my head hard. Mom pressed her lips together and scolded:

“Steve, what the hell do you take your own mother for? Your dad and I are divorced. That doesn’t mean he’s not your father, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’ll stop you two from seeing each other.”

“I know that… I just…” The smile I forced died halfway.

Mom was right. Mom had never been the petty type. I knew that. So why did I keep feeling this constant, stupid fear of losing her?

Was it because of that night that still felt like a dream?

My mind started drifting. Mom tapped the table.

“Son, your dad might have been a shitty husband, but he’s still a good father. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah… I guess…” My half-assed answer earned me a sharp look. Mom dropped the subject. I sat there debating whether to tell her the rest. After a few seconds I decided I had to.

“Dad also said… he’s getting married.”

Mom had already picked up her chopsticks again. At my words she set them down once more and said softly, “Is that so?” I wasn’t watching Mom’s face closely; I just kept talking.

“He wants me there on the day. And he told me not to tell you. I…” Only then did I notice the quiet, hollow look settling over Mom’s features.

Twenty-something years of marriage, maybe?

Mom’s eyes dropped. She stayed silent. I switched tone fast.

“Obviously I shut him down cold. He’s got his own family now—what’s he still bothering the two of us for?”

I waited for Mom to praise me. Instead Mom’s voice came out flat and cold.

“You should go.”

“What?”

Mom sat up straight, face hard.

“Whatever happened between your dad and me—even if we end up strangers—that’s our business. It has nothing to do with you. He’s still your father. Blood doesn’t change. Don’t you dare feel guilty about staying close to him just because you’re living with me.”

Mom paused, exhaled softly.

“I’m not that small-hearted.”

“Wash the dishes. I’m going out for a bit.” A moment later Mom stood, ready to leave. I answered without moving. Only when Mom had one shoe on did it hit me. I scrambled up and hurried after her, forcing a smile.

“Mom, it’s already late. Where are you going?”

Mom slipped on the second high heel, glanced at me, and answered evenly,

“Meeting a friend. Need to talk about something.”

“Guy or girl?” I pushed it. Mom opened the door while she spoke.

“What does that have to do with you?”

“It has everything to do with me…” The words came out too sharp, too desperate. Mom’s phoenix eyes flashed. I backtracked instantly.

“I just don’t want some creep bothering you.”

“You think everyone is like you?” The sarcasm landed, then Mom seemed to realize how the words sounded between us. She cleared her throat, voice turning ice-cold.

“I’ll be back soon. And… don’t you dare follow me again. Or I really will lose it with you.”

Mom didn’t wait for an answer. She stepped over the threshold and shut the door hard, leaving me standing there half-stunned.

I told myself Mom wasn’t going on a date. I was facing the college entrance exam. Mom knew the things that lived in my head. She wouldn’t do anything right now that would pull my focus.

But I couldn’t be sure. Not after the accident that had put Mom’s body under me. Mom had acted normal ever since, but who the fuck knew what was actually going on inside Mom’s head?

I wanted to follow Mom again. Her warning stopped me. I dragged myself back to the living room and dropped onto the couch like a deflated ball.

Why had I turned into this indecisive mess? This wasn’t me. The worst part—I didn’t even have the guts to steal Mom’s stockings anymore.

Maybe once you’d tasted the real fruit, the bitter peel didn’t matter. But was that really what I believed?

…

A few fat cotton-candy clouds floated in a bright blue sky. On the green grass stood a single figure, back turned to me. Spring wind soft, white dress drifting.

The person I’d thought about every single day.

Mom turned her head and gave me that small smile. A strand of black hair slid across the corner of Mom’s eye. So fucking beautiful.

Mom smiled and waved me closer. I grinned and ran. The distance looked short, but I ran for what felt like forever. Finally I reached Mom from behind.

“Mom?”

Only Mom’s back answered.

The long dress trailed the ground like something out of a fairy tale. The wind picked up. Thick black hair whipped around, a dark waterfall brushing my face, brushing straight into my chest.

The wind grew colder, stronger. I rubbed my hands together. Mom didn’t move. Mom’s long hair danced wild in the air, laughing in the roar.

The gale turned savage, stinging my ears. I forced my head up toward the mountain that was Mom and called out:

“Mom, I’m cold.”

Why wasn’t Mom answering? Was Mom still mad at me? Wait—why did I say “still”? That was wrong. Why would Mom be mad?

“Mom, the wind’s gonna blow me away!” I shouted. Mom stood like stone, unmoved. Frustration spiked. I reached out to grab Mom’s arm. If I could just hold on to Mom, the wind wouldn’t matter.

My hand closed on empty air.

In the sunlight Mom’s body looked warped. Suddenly I understood why the wind still reached me even though Mom was standing right there.

“Mom…”

Smoke curled around Mom. No—Mom was turning into smoke, dissolving. The sight dropped me into a bottomless pit of pure terror.

“Mom—Mom—Mom!”

Mom vanished faster and faster. I kept screaming the name, but nothing slowed it.

The wind died. And with it, Mom was gone.

“Mom!”

I shot up off the couch like I’d been electrocuted.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

That familiar irritated voice cut through the panic. Only then did I realize Mom was sitting right next to me. A laptop sat open in front of Mom, and Mom was glaring at me, pissed.

Just a dream. My heart was still slamming against my ribs. I stared at Mom, breathing hard, completely lost. I blinked once and a huge, formless wave of grievance crashed over me.

I lunged forward and threw myself into Mom’s arms.

“What are you doing? Get off me!” Mom shoved hard at my head. The same scolding tone I’d heard a thousand times somehow felt like the safest sound in the world right now.

I buried my face against Mom and just started bawling. The soft hand pushing at the back of my head froze, then stopped fighting.

“What is it?” Mom asked, voice gentler. I cried until Mom’s white shirt was soaked through before I managed to choke out:

“I… I had a horrible… dream…”

“You’re a grown man. Crying like a baby over a nightmare. People would laugh if they saw this.” Mom kept pushing at my head, pure disdain in her voice.

I ignored it. I kept my whole face buried in the warm soft curve of Mom’s stomach, breathing in Mom’s scent until the panic finally started to ease.

“Enough. Get up. You’re crushing me.” Mom shoved me off harder this time. I sat up and looked at her with the most pathetic expression I could manage. Mom seemed to soften a little. Mom sighed.

“What kind of dream was it? Tell Mom.”

“I dreamed… I dreamed…” The words stuck. I couldn’t even describe how terrifying it had been. Finally I just muttered, defeated:

“I dreamed you lost me.”

“Hm?” Mom’s brows drew together. Mom clearly didn’t get it, so she gave the usual empty comfort:

“Dreams are the opposite. Don’t overthink it.”

“But… that dream felt so real… I was so scared… Mom…”

Mom exhaled.

“Son, Mom knows the college entrance exam is close. The pressure’s making you spiral.” Mom took my hand and kept going. “A little pressure is good. Too much just backfires. You need to learn how to handle it yourself. Don’t carry so much junk in your head, understand?”

The warmth of Mom’s palm was pure safety. I gave a mechanical “yeah,” then realized it wasn’t the full truth. The second Mom started to pull her hand away I grabbed it back and looked her straight in the eye.

“Mom, I don’t think that’s the main reason.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed with confusion. I tilted my head, thinking hard.

“Ever since a certain night I’ve been restless. I’m constantly terrified you’re going to leave me one day.”

“What night?”

My brain was locked on the memory. No filter left. I said it completely straight:

“That night. My tooth hurt. You accidentally gave me the Viagra, and then…”

Why did the air suddenly feel freezing? A full-body shiver hit me the exact second I realized what had just come out of my mouth.

Mom’s eyes turned into knives. I couldn’t look at them. I yanked my hands back in surrender and started stammering:

“No—Mom—I just meant… I was trying to figure out what happened that night… the accident was so sudden…”

Mom cut me off through clenched teeth:

“I want to throw you off the balcony right now.”

“Mom—” I whined, pure wounded-kid energy. Mom’s eyes narrowed to slits. One cold word squeezed out:

“Out.”

I knew if I stayed in Mom’s sight one more second I might actually cease to exist. I scrambled past Mom—and tripped over Mom’s leg. I nearly went down. At the same time Mom sucked in a sharp breath like something hurt. I spun around:

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

Mom was holding her stomach, didn’t answer, just shot me one freezing look. I didn’t dare linger. I bolted straight back to my room.

What the fuck was wrong with me today? Words coming out with zero brain involvement. Was this still the same guy who thought he was smart? And that fucked-up nightmare… every time I remembered it, my chest felt like it was being sliced open.

I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stand still. The whole bedroom felt like a steamer. Restless, itchy under the skin. Thinking about Mom’s reaction—was Mom sick?

When I finally went back out to the living room, Mom was gone. Only a half-sphere dent left in the couch cushion and a glass of water that still hadn’t gone cold.

The next time I saw Mom, Mom was the same as always—cold, sharp-tongued, ready to bite. That actually calmed me down a little. The days after that slid by in a thick, awkward fog. I stopped thinking about it.

Today was the last day of school. After the afternoon class meeting there would be no more math, no more Chinese, no more English. The final lunch break turned into a full classroom party. Everyone stayed put, chattering with their desk partners about the past and the future.

My desk partner was a sweet, kind girl. She was also my girlfriend. I’d never really loved her, but right then a strange little ache still showed up.

Cady and I had been together a whole year. In that entire year I’d only slept with her once.

Was it because I wasn’t interested?

No. She was pure, pretty, quiet but confident—exactly the type most guys wanted. Half the time I felt like I didn’t even deserve her.

Like every other teenage boy I’d once daydreamed about a wild, romantic relationship. Now I was holding one in my hands and all I wanted was to let it go.

I watched the soft half of her face resting on the back of her hand while she talked about college life with bright eyes, and a quiet guilt settled in.

I still couldn’t figure out how Cady ever fell for me.

The second that thought hit, a mess of feelings—self-loathing, guilt, ache, and a twisted little spark of excitement—all flooded in at once.

The last class of the afternoon had been turned into the final parent-teacher meeting. Under Mr. Jasper’s arrangement the parents were already waiting outside the classroom door.

One by one the students brought their fathers or mothers to the seats. The room exploded with noise and chatter.

Cady walked in from the doorway leading a middle-aged woman straight to our desk. No question—Cady’s mom.

Cersei had that soft, intelligent look. Simple ponytail, black-framed glasses, clothes on the conservative side. Once the two of them sat down beside me she gave me a quick once-over. I was still deciding whether to say hello first when she spoke up:

“I’m Cersei, Cady’s mother. You’re Steve, right?”

I blinked, nodded woodenly, then answered politely:

“Hello.”

I glanced at Cady. She shot me an apologetic little smile.

Cersei gave a neutral “mm,” picked up the final monthly exam report Mr. Jasper had left on the desk, glanced at it, and asked in a mild voice:

“Your mother isn’t here yet?”

Only then did I realize Mom was nowhere in sight. Mom was always on time. Late wasn’t like her.

“Probably stuck in traffic,” I guessed. Cersei smiled faintly.

“Is it your father or your mother coming today?”

“My mom.”

Cersei nodded, eyes lowering for a second, then looked at me again. “Oh? And what do your parents do?”

The moment the question left her mouth Cady started tugging at her mother’s arm in a playful whine. “Mom~ why so many questions?” Then she turned to me with another apologetic grin.

“Steve, my mom’s just like this—talks a lot. Don’t mind her.”

Cersei gave her daughter a light pat, zero real annoyance on her face.

I just sat there staring. The way those two interacted looked more like friends than mother and daughter.

Cersei smiled, ruffled Cady’s hair with open affection, and joked:

“At home Cady never stops talking about how funny and interesting her desk partner is. Looking at you now, though… you’re more like a silent gourd.”

The words landed. She wasn’t wrong. Lately I’d turned into exactly that—quiet, closed-off. Was this still the same person?

I suddenly saw the shift in myself. Somewhere along the line I’d started talking less, worrying about everything. I barely recognized the guy in the mirror.

Was it after the first time I pushed inside Mom? Or the night I accidentally swallowed the Viagra and ended up fucking Mom?

Doesn’t matter when it started. I knew for certain every change traced back to Mom.

Maybe this was the price.

“Quiet down, everyone!” Mr. Jasper’s sharp voice from the front cut through the spiral.

“Today is the last class you’ll ever have in this school, and the last class I’ll teach as your homeroom teacher. Sitting beside you are the parents who have worried themselves sick over you. First, let’s give all the parents a warm round of applause!”

Mr. Jasper started clapping. The whole room followed with loud, solid applause. When it died down he swept his gaze across the classroom and finally stopped on me, frowning.

“Steve, where’s your mother?”

I looked toward the empty doorway, a little lost. Where was Mom?

The next second a figure I would know anywhere appeared in that doorway.

Mom was still in her work clothes, but the bottom half had switched to wide-leg dress pants. On her feet were those glossy black pointed heels. Above them, the pale, delicate arches of Mom’s feet showed the faint blue of veins under the skin.

Every pair of eyes in the classroom—including mine—locked onto the doorway at the same time.

“Sorry, Mr. Jasper. Something came up and held me back a bit.” Mom’s polite voice came from the doorway. Under the teacher’s gesture she walked straight toward me, calm and open.

“That’s Steve’s mom?”

“She looks so young!”

“…”

Through the low buzz of whispers Mom reached my side, shot me one quick glance, and sat down.

The little interruption over, the meeting continued.

“I want to use this final class to teach every student one important truth.”

Mr. Jasper pushed his glasses up and planted both hands on the podium.

“School and teachers can only teach you math, physics, chemistry—how to score higher on the exam. But how to be a person, how to be a good person—that credit belongs entirely to the parents sitting beside you…”

I couldn’t hear a word of the lecture. I glanced at Mom. Mom was rubbing her temples, looking tired.

“Mom, why were you so late?”

“Shut up and listen to the teacher.”

After getting shut down cold I caught Cersei giving me a sympathetic little smile. Or maybe it was mockery.

Mom being this strict wasn’t ideal either. If Mom had a personality like Cersei’s… no. Better that Mom stayed strict. Anything else would feel too weird.

Did that mean I had a masochistic streak?

“…The college entrance exam isn’t the only path, but it is still the shortest road most of you will ever have toward the future…”

Mr. Jasper kept pouring out words from the front. The atmosphere must have gotten to him—his voice climbed higher and higher. I let my eyes drift sideways and stole another look at Mom.

Mom’s eyes were closed. One arm rested on the desk. Two slender, jade-smooth fingers kept pressing at her brow.

Mom wasn’t listening either. I glanced at Cersei again and compared the two without thinking. Result: she didn’t even reach one percent of Mom’s beauty.

Objective or subjective didn’t matter anymore. Mom was stunning. Mom was the most beautiful woman in the world.

That night Mom had stripped off her panties and climbed onto my lap… Suddenly Mom’s eyes opened and cut a sharp sideways glare at me. I snapped my gaze back to the podium, guilt flooding in.

“…Light the flame of hope, raise the sails of your dreams, beat the drums of struggle, face every challenge that comes, and harvest the brilliance of success! Finally, I wish every student a victorious start and a triumphant finish on the exam!”

Mr. Jasper swept both arms wide and delivered the last line with full theatrical force. Parents and students caught the wave and erupted into loud applause.

Mom clapped too—but the motion was pure formality. What was Mom thinking?

I had no idea. I never knew what lived inside Mom’s head.

“All right. Students, step out to the hallway and rest for a bit. Teachers and parents need to discuss a few more exam details.”

Under Mr. Jasper’s order we filed out. The corridor filled with restless, half-excited waiting for the final bell.

“Steve, after the exam let’s go on a trip together, okay?” I’d been standing near the classroom door trying to catch what the teacher was saying when Cady appeared beside me, eyes bright with plans.

“Where?” I asked without thinking.

“The beach?”

“Beach? No way. Haven’t you heard? The ocean’s full of man-eating sharks.”

Cady rolled her eyes. I quickly waved it off.

“Kidding. We’ll talk after the exam. I have to ask my mom first.”

Ten-odd minutes later the meeting ended. Other parents streamed out one after another, leaving campus with their kids.

I peeked back inside. Mom and Cersei were still deep in conversation, looking almost friendly. A few more minutes passed before the two of them finally walked out together.

“Steve, come over to our place sometime.” Cersei gave me a meaningful smile, said goodbye to Mom, and left with Cady.

Walking side by side with Mom toward the school gate, I couldn’t hold the question in.

“Mom, what were you and Cersei talking about?”

Mom didn’t answer. Mom looked lost in thought. Only when we reached the car did Mom speak, voice quiet:

“Cady really is a good girl.”

I opened the passenger door and climbed in. Mom buckled her seatbelt, then let the next sentence float out soft and slow:

“Her mother said once you’re both in university, she won’t oppose you two dating.”

“What do you think?”

“Me?” Mom shot me a sideways glance, turned the key, started the engine, and stared at the roadside beyond the windshield. A quiet sigh. “You should have your own independent thoughts. Once the exam is over, Mom won’t manage these things for you anymore.”

Something sharp and acidic stung the bridge of my nose. I didn’t even know why.

I sat frozen in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the school gate. The engine was running, but Mom still hadn’t pressed the gas. Instead Mom said, almost gently:

“That girl really is excellent. If the two of you are meant to go the distance, Mom will support it completely and feel at ease. Just do well on the exam. After it’s over, Mom will pay for the two of you to travel the world.”

My face itched. I touched it and found tears already sliding down my cheeks.

Mom looked at me. “Don’t overthink it. The exam is right around the corner. Your birthday’s coming soon too, isn’t it? Score high and Mom will grant whatever birthday wish you want.”

I wiped the tears, pressed my lips together, and turned my face away without answering. A soft sigh came from the driver’s seat. Then Mom put the car in motion.

Trees flashed past the window one after another. Suddenly I felt like I was wrong.

Whether it was shame over everything I’d done and everything I still wanted, or the fact that I’d become too spineless to face what lived inside me—I couldn’t tell.

Forget it. Get through the exam first. Honestly I was a man with almost zero ambition. Good grades never made me feel superior; bad grades never made me feel lesser.

I was just… detached. But Mom wanted me to do well. So I would still throw everything I had at this so-called most important exam of a lifetime.

June 8th. National college entrance exam.

Two days later it was over. Cheers of pure relief filled the air around me. I stood at the school gate. The afternoon sun still burned hot. Standing under it, a strange, bottomless emptiness rolled over me.

Once this exam ended, Mom would probably stop managing me, right? And that one accidental taste of love—would it just turn into smoke and disappear?

Cars jammed the entrance. Parents packed the sidewalk. Mom pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of me, sliding off her sunglasses. Soft light danced in Mom’s eyes; a gentle smile curved Mom’s mouth. One pale, elegant hand settled on my shoulder.

“How’d it go?”

“Not great.” My answer came out distracted. Mom looked at me for a second, then—rare as hell—slipped her arm through mine and walked with me through the crowd.

“Whatever the result, as long as you gave it everything.”

I turned my head. “Mom, didn’t you want me to get into a good university more than anything? If I did badly, would you be mad?”

Mom’s mood seemed light. A faint smile still sat at the corner of Mom’s lips. When we reached the car Mom opened the passenger door for me and spoke with unexpected gentleness:

“That’s only because you used to be such a lazy little shit, always chasing fun and messing around. I used those words to push you. But I saw the change. I saw how hard you worked. So no matter what the score is, Mom won’t be angry with you.”

Mom suddenly reached up and ruffled my hair. Only then did I realize I was already as tall as Mom in her heels.

“Mom wants you to understand that every single choice you make today will rewrite the road ahead. It might stay smooth. It might turn rough. But whatever it becomes, that past is locked. And that is the whole point of living.”

Mom’s words left me blank. Looking at this rare soft version of Mom, I just told the truth:

“Mom, I don’t get it.”

Mom’s brows curved in a small smile. Mom ruffled my hair again, affectionate, then gently pushed me into the passenger seat.

“You’ll understand later. Enough lectures for today. Official high-school graduation. Mom’s taking you to KFC.”

…

Two weeks later, on my birthday, the scores dropped: 571.

When the number appeared on the screen I actually jumped.

I wanted to call Mom—who had left early that morning—right that second. After a moment I decided to wait and surprise Mom when she got home.

By noon my girlfriend and friends had all swapped scores with me. Everyone had done decently.

Cady scored 606. Dorian scraped 420.

We’d already planned an afternoon KTV blowout. Perfect timing—it was my birthday.

At the agreed hour I threw on something decent and bolted out the door to the meeting spot.

Cady and Sarah were already there, each holding a milk tea in front of the KTV entrance.

“Cady!” I jogged over, waving. The second she saw me her face lit up and she skipped the last few steps.

“Here. Bought this for you.” She handed me a cold cup. Perfect against the heat. I took a long pull and walked with her over to Sarah.

“Where’s Dorian? Still not here?”

Sarah checked her watch and stamped her foot.

“He’s always late!”

“No rush. I’ll call him.” I pulled out my phone. Before I could dial, Dorian materialized behind us like a ghost.

“Hey there, pretty people!”

Sarah jumped a full inch and snapped, “Dorian, you teleport now?”

“…”

The four of us traded banter all the way to the private room. Cady, Sarah and I dropped onto the sofa. Dorian grabbed a mic like he’d done this a hundred times, hit a couple of buttons, and planted himself in the center of the room for an opening speech:

“Today is the day we officially graduate and go our separate ways. Fate brought us together. Three years of shared desks, brothers who went through it all. Our parting is only so we can meet again later, so we can come back to this. Graduation—may the days ahead be full of joy!”

He delivered the whole thing in one smooth flow. I was actually impressed. When did this guy get so eloquent? Sarah voiced the exact thought in my head:

“Dorian, be honest—where’d you steal that from?”

“Google.”

I’d overestimated him.

Still, the guy was a natural at pumping up a room. Under his lead even Cady—who’d never been comfortable in places like this—started picking songs and singing.

I’d only been to KTV a handful of times myself and felt too awkward to request anything. After Dorian finished a number he shoved the mic at me.

“Steve, don’t be shy. Come on, one song!”

Cady was watching me with bright, expectant eyes. No way I could back down. I queued a track.

The accompaniment filled the room—and somehow sounded wrong.

Because the song I’d chosen was “Mom Is the Best in the World.”

“Holy shit!” Dorian shot me a thumbs-up. I didn’t care. I started singing with everything I had.

“In this world only Mom is good… a child with Mom is like a treasure… falling into Mom’s arms, happiness never runs out…”

In this world only Mom is good… a child without Mom is like a weed… leaving Mom’s arms, where can happiness be found?

Leaving Mom’s arms… where can happiness be found?

When the last note faded my eyes were wet and I couldn’t stop them. Cady noticed instantly. She took the mic from me and asked quietly:

“What’s wrong?”

I wiped my face and forced a smile.

“Just… time went too fast. One blink and we already graduated. Maybe after this it’ll be really hard for all of us to meet again.”

Cady tugged my arm and pulled me down onto the sofa, voice soft with comfort:

“It’s okay. You scored so high this time—we can apply to the same university.”

Dorian clapped me on the shoulder.

“Come on, Steve, quit thinking about the future. What matters is right now. Let’s drink!”

Under Dorian’s lead the four of us kept singing while we started a dice game. We made it clear to the girls that fun came first, drinking second—whatever they could handle was fine.

After a while the game hooked me. The more we played, the deeper I sank. Alcohol probably helped.

Dorian and I locked horns. Neither of us would back down.

I lost track of time. An entire case of beer disappeared between us.

Looking at everything Dorian had done tonight, I started thinking he wasn’t half as carefree and simple as he pretended.

“Dorian, anyone at school you actually like?”

He gave a drunken glance toward Sarah and the others. Shock hit me and the name slipped out:

“Sarah!?”

“What?” Sarah turned. I clamped my mouth shut. She eyed us both suspiciously, then went back to gossiping with Cady.

I covered my mouth and whispered:

“You like Sarah?”

Dorian didn’t answer. He just smiled, quiet and a little distant. There was real feeling in that look—maybe thirty percent of it was genuine.

The alcohol climbed higher. Mom’s image flooded my head. That dreamlike night Mom and I fucked. The ice-and-snow curve of Mom’s thick, perfect ass that still lived in my dreams.

Something tight and painful twisted in my chest.

Dorian shook an empty bottle, eyes half-lidded.

“Steve… you still into that other girl you used to talk about…?”

I froze, then understood exactly who he meant. I glanced back at Cady. She and Sarah were laughing so hard their mouths couldn’t close over whatever they were talking about.

Cady’s laugh—usually like wind chimes—sounded thin and weak under the karaoke track.

I could lie to everyone else. I couldn’t lie to myself.

So I stayed silent.

Dorian kept staring at me through the drunken haze. After a long time he said:

“If you really like her, just tell her straight. Sometimes I think she’s pretty pitiful.”

Then he stood and headed for the bathroom.

A glass bottle on the table reflected my face like a mirror. But it wasn’t a mirror. Just a bottle.

So the face in the glass looked twisted.

So the guy inside the bottle looked like a stranger—stranger enough to make me want to throw up.

I shook my head and muttered, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

The me in the bottle put on an innocent face. “What did I do?”

“You keep saying you love Mom. Why do you keep doing things that hurt her so bad?”

“Not my fault. Blame the Viagra.”

“You knew Mom would never abandon you, and you still forced her to choose. Mom already loves you enough. Why do you have to be this cruel?”

“Because that love isn’t enough. Because I don’t just want Mom’s love. Mom belongs to me. Mom’s heart is mine. Mom’s body can only be mine.”

“And Cady? You say all you want is Mom—where the fuck does that leave her?”

“What does that have to do with me? She liked me first. Not my problem. Not my problem.”

I gritted my teeth. “You’re too fucking much!”

Rage surged. I grabbed the neck of the bottle and smashed it hard against the floor.

The me inside the glass vanished.

Cady and Sarah both looked over.

“What happened?”

I forced a bitter smile and shook my head. “Bathroom.”

I left the room, found the sink, and splashed cold water on my face. In the mirror my reflection was crystal clear.

The me inside the glass and the me outside spoke at the same time:

“Except for that one thing, I’ve never gone against Mom. But this time is different. Even if it hurts Mom, I’m still going to lock Mom tight inside my hands. So stop hurting more people.”

…

Dorian appeared beside the sink. I looked at him.

“I think you’re right.”

He was quiet for a second. “Do what you want.”

“Help me.”

“Okay.”

Back in the private room Dorian walked over and tapped Sarah’s shoulder. She looked up, surprised. “What?”

He cleared his throat. “Sarah, it’s hot in here. Let’s go get some air.”

“You drunk or what?”

Dorian scratched the back of his head and shot her a meaningful look. Sarah glanced at me, then got it.

“Oh~ yeah, I’m pretty hot too. Let’s go.”

Only Cady and I left in the room.

Under the dark purple lights her cheeks flushed deeper. She asked, shy:

“Why’d you send them out?”

I’d rehearsed the lines in my head, but now the words stuck. I dropped onto the sofa right beside her. She instinctively shifted back, face even redder.

“Don’t do anything crazy!”

“I…” I couldn’t do it. All the heartfelt breakup speech I’d prepared refused to come out.

I clenched my jaw. “I want to break up.”

The shy red drained from her face. Her skin went paper-white. Small hands clenched tight.

“Why?”

I forced a stiff smile. “I’m a bad person. You’re a good person. Good people and bad people don’t belong together.”

“That’s not funny at all.”

None of this was funny. I couldn’t smile either.

People aren’t made of wood or stone. We feel things.

I believed she was smart enough to understand what I really meant.

Big eyes shimmered with tears. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I walked silently to the song machine.

“Tomorrow, will you still remember

the diary you wrote yesterday?

Tomorrow, will you still think of

the girl who used to cry the most…

Who will marry the sentimental you

Who will comfort the girl who cries

Who will pin up your long hair

Who will make your wedding dress…

The old days are all gone

I’ll have a wife of my own too

I’ll show her the photo

and tell her about the girl who sat beside me…”

I had no idea how things would look years from now. Right now the only thing I knew was this: I wanted Mom. So I would walk straight toward that single, unshakable truth.

I jumped off the cliff even though it meant falling forever.

I pushed Cady—who still didn’t know—away from the edge so she wouldn’t get dragged down with me. Maybe that was the last scrap of decency left in someone already rotten to the core.

I drank a lot tonight.

“Mom, I’m home!” I opened the door, kicked off my shoes, and called into the dark apartment. No answer. Was Mom already asleep?

I staggered to Mom’s bedroom. The door stood open. Mom wasn’t inside.

I checked the time. Eleven already.

Mom wasn’t home. This late—why wasn’t Mom back yet?

I dialed Mom’s number.

“Sorry, the subscriber you have dialed is not answering at this time. Please try again later.”

What the hell? Had something happened to Mom? My mind started spinning worst-case scenarios. I paced the living room for ten frantic minutes before deciding to go look for her.

I reached the front door, hadn’t even put shoes on, when a knock sounded. Relief flooded me. I yanked the door open—Mom was back!

But someone else was with her.

“Elle?”

Mom was still in her work clothes, half-leaning on Elle, eyes glassy, drunker than I was. The smell of alcohol on Mom was even stronger. Elle gave me a small smile.

“Steve, your mom… she had a few drinks with me today, so we got back a little late.”

My head was swimming. I didn’t dig. I just thanked Elle and stepped forward to help Mom inside. Mom shoved me away hard. Glazed eyes locked on me, full of sudden wariness.

“Who the hell are you?”

I stared. “I’m your son!”

Mom let go of Elle, swayed, and pointed a finger at me.

“You’re not my son. My son is a good boy. You’re just a… pervert.”

I saw the white square box clutched in Mom’s right hand and reached for it on instinct. Mom shoved me again.

“What do you think you’re doing… this is… the birthday cake I bought for my son… I’m not giving it to you… get away!”

The second the words left her mouth Mom’s knees buckled. I caught her soft body fast. Mom sagged against me, eyes half-closed, gone silent and still. Too much alcohol.

The birthday cake stayed locked tight in Mom’s hand.

“Elle, thank you.”

Elle shook her head. Something like pity sat in her eyes.

“Take good care of your mom from now on, Steve. She’s… really had it hard.”

I figured she meant Mom carrying this whole family alone. I nodded, voice firm.

“Don’t worry, Elle. I’ll take care of Mom. I promise.”

Elle patted my shoulder once and walked away.

The smell of alcohol filled the whole apartment.

Mom had drunk way too much. That soft, yielding body was completely slumped against me. I guided Mom into the bedroom, set the birthday cake Mom had bought me to the side, and carefully laid Mom down on the bed.

Mom lay still with eyes closed. Even with the heavy reek of