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

"Luca!" She hissed, voice dripping with disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

I rested my head against my knuckles, completely at ease, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. 

"Oh, I wasn't going to tell you at all in the first place to save yourself from the embarrassment." I said, my tone casually teasing. "But then, you went all queen of the world on me with that smug little strut, and I figured—Nah, I gotta knock you off that pedestal a bit."

"You did this just to mess with me?" Her eyes practically shot daggers at me. 

"Absolutely. I mean, how could I resist?..You were just so impressive there, acting like you had won some kind of victory. I just had to ruin that for you." I nodded with exaggerated innocence, popping a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Her face flushed a deep shade of crimson, her fingers tightening into fists. "I can't believe this!" She sputtered, pacing in small, frustrated circles. "I'm standing here like an idiot while you—Ugh, you—You!" 

She stammered as she pointed an accusing finger at me, as though I'd just committed the gravest crime known to humanity. 

"I spent so much time trying to look cute, and here you are, ruining it! What kind of son—"

She just stood there, flustered, completely out of words for a moment, before finally giving in with an exasperated sigh. 

"Fine! Fine! You win, Luca! I'm changing just like you want...I can't believe I let myself get caught like this." She threw up her hands dramatically and then continued saying out of spite, "I'm going to burn this sweater...You just wait!"

As much as I loved to see my mother all flustered, I knew that I couldn't let her storm off, so I quickly grabbed her by her wrists before she ran off. 

"Luca, I swear, if you're about to make fun of me again—" She looked back at me, eyes narrowed in frustration.

"No, no, no. I'm not making fun of you, Mom." I said, sounding far too calm for someone who had just embarrassed his own mother to the point of no return. "I just want to say that you don't have to change, really."

"...Those boxers of mine? They're actually kind of versatile, you know? You can wear them like shorts, and they're surprisingly stylish—well, in their own...quirky way."

Her brows furrowed, and she looked down at herself as though seeing the outfit in a whole new light. 

"Really?" She asked, a hint of doubt creeping into her voice. "You actually think they look okay?"

"Absolutely." I nodded seriously. "They're comfy, breathable, and honestly, women wear these all the time...They're like the ultimate all-purpose wear. A perfect fit for you."

She stood there, silently staring at the outfit, clearly mulling it over. Then, to my complete surprise, her frustration seemed to melt away a little as she glanced back at me with a faint smile. "Well... now that you mention it, they do feel pretty nice."

"See? No need to rush off to change...You're already looking better than half the people I know who try too hard with their outfits." I smirked, sensing that I was finally about to fully calm her down.

But of course I just had to ruin the peace I created by saying something stupid in front of her.

"But you are lucky, Mom. If you had worn any other boxer..." I unconsciously muttered to myself under my breath.

And of course my mother heard what I said, her head snapping toward me like a hawk spotting prey. 

"Lucky?" She repeated, eyes narrowing. "Lucky how?"

I froze...The words had just slipped out. 

"Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything." I tried to backpedal, waving a hand dismissively as I really didn't want to add fuel to the flame that was just about to be extinguished.

"No, no, no. You don't get to say something like that and just walk away." Her eyes sharpened to deadly slits. "What do you mean by saying that I'm lucky?"

"Really, it's not important, Mom." I insisted, already feeling the sweat prickling at the back of my neck.

She stepped closer, crossing her arms. "Luca..." She said, her voice dangerously sweet. "...you have three seconds to tell me what you meant, or else you know what will happen."

I tried to resist...Really, I did. 

But under her laser-focused gaze, my resolve crumbled like stale bread. I sighed, nervously playing with the fork as I said, 

"Okay, fine. I just meant you're lucky you picked that pair of boxers and not, well...one of the others."

"And why would it matter which pair I picked?" Her eyes narrowed further. 

I hesitated, desperately searching for an escape route...But none came. 

"Because..." I mumbled and averted my gaze from her. "...most of my other boxers have, you know…a pocket in the front."

Her brow furrowed. "A pocket? What kind of boxers need a—" She stopped mid-sentence, realisation crashing into her like a tidal wave. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open in slow-motion horror. "Wait...You mean that kind of pocket?!"

I nervously nodded and pushed myself away from her just in case I got smacked in the face.

Hearing my confirmation, my mother's hands shot to the hem of the sweater, clutching it like it might spontaneously betray her. 

"Luca!" She screeched, her face practically bursting into flames. "Are you telling me that I almost genuinely flashed you if I had chosen another pair of boxers?!"

I swallowed hard, my confidence faltering under her fiery glare. 

"Uh…Well, technically, yes." I scratched the back of my neck, offering a nervous smile. "But hey! It didn't happen, so, you know, no harm, no foul, right?"

Her jaw dropped, eyes wild with disbelief. "No harm, no foul?! Are you serious right now?! I was this close—" She held up two fingers, trembling from the sheer strain of her indignation. "—This close to a complete disaster!"

"But it didn't happen." I repeated weakly. "So, like...Why fuss about it?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Her nostrils flared, and her fingers curled into fists. For a moment, she looked like a cartoon character about to burst into steam. "Why fuss about it?!" She sputtered, her voice climbing an octave with every word. "I can't just—I was—You—!" She was stammering so hard, her words tripped over each other like a traffic pile-up.

I took an involuntary step back, half-expecting her to spontaneously combust.

Her frustration finally hit a breaking point...With a sharp exhale, she dropped her hands and slumped her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she pursed her lips into the most petulant pout I'd ever seen.

Once again I knew I couldn't leave her alone, as she would most definitely not speak to me until I appeared to her, so I sighed and tried to make it up to her without screwing it up at the last minute this time.

"Look, Mom, it's fine...You didn't choose the wrong boxers, and you didn't embarrass yourself. You're in the clear." I tried to keep my voice light, hoping to diffuse the storm clouds brewing behind her eyes. "No harm, no foul, right?..Right?"

She didn't budge. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she let out a soft huff and turned her head away, her bottom lip jutting out in a defiant pout. 

The silence stretched between us, and with each second, her irritation seemed to solidify like concrete.

I grit my teeth, realising I was teetering on the edge of no return and that I had to do something to make it up to her. 

"Okay, okay. What do I have to do to make you forgive me, Mom?" I finally asked, exasperation creeping into my voice. "Just tell me and I'll do it if it makes you happy."

She finally glanced at me, her eyes narrowing just a bit, mischief sparking through her frustration. 

"You want to make it up to me?" She said slowly, each word deliberate.

"Yes." I sighed. "Please tell me what you want me to do."

"I see...If it's like that, I want you to compliment my outfit." Her lips curled into the smallest, most infuriatingly smug smile. 

"S-Seriously?...That's what you want me to do?" I blinked.

"Yes." She lifted her chin, her arms still crossed. "You didn't say anything earlier when I first appeared in this outfit, and I know I look good. So I want to hear it from you as well."

"You're cheating." I groaned. "You're taking advantage of the opportunity I've given you."

"And you are terrible at compliments." She shot back. "So unless you want me to stay mad forever, you better give me a satisfactory amount of praise." She raised an eyebrow. "Make it good."

I let out a deep sigh, feeling equal parts amused and defeated. This woman was utterly whimsical and infuriating, and yet…it was kind of adorable.