Dear Roommate Please Stop Being Hot [BL]-Chapter 247: Shards of a Broken Heart

The living room was warm, lived-in—family photos on the walls, children’s drawings held by magnets on a board, the faint scent of tea lingering in the air.

Luca sat on the couch, feeling strangely out of place yet oddly comfortable.

Aiko sat beside him, close but not touching, her eyes—his eyes, their mother’s eyes—watching him with open curiosity.

Yuki had claimed the spot on his other side, legs swinging, unable to sit still.

"You’re really tall," Yuki said, tilting his head back to look up at Luca. "Mom said you’d be tall."

Luca couldn’t help the small smile. "I guess I am."

"Are you staying forever?" Yuki asked, hope bright in his voice.

"Yuki," their mother said gently from the doorway, carrying a tray with tea and snacks. "Remember what we talked about? Luca is visiting."

"But he could stay," Yuki insisted, looking between them. "We have an extra room."

Luca’s chest tightened. "I’m just here for a few days. I have to go back home."

"But you’ll come back, right?" Aiko asked, speaking for the first time since he’d arrived. Her voice was soft, careful, like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Luca looked at her—really looked. She had his face, his mother’s face.

The same nose, the same curve of the lips, the same way of tilting her head when thinking.

It was like looking at a younger, gentler version of himself.

"I... I don’t know," he said honestly.

She nodded, accepting, but disappointment flickered across her features.

Their mother set the tray down on the coffee table. "Why don’t you two tell Luca about school? Show him your drawings, Aiko?"

Aiko’s face lit up immediately. "You want to see?"

"Sure," Luca said.

She jumped up, darting to a corner where a folder sat, returning with it clutched to her chest.

She settled back beside him, opening it carefully.

"This one is from art class," she said, showing him a watercolor of a garden. "And this one I did at home. It’s supposed to be the ocean, but I’m not sure if it looks right."

Luca studied it—blues and greens swirling together, white foam suggested with careful strokes. "It’s really good. You have talent."

She beamed, cheeks flushing with pride.

Yuki, not to be outdone, started talking rapid-fire. "I play soccer! I’m the fastest on my team—well, second fastest, but I’m getting faster. And I can do tricks! Want to see? We can go outside—"

"Maybe later," their mother interjected gently. "Let Luca rest a bit first."

Yuki deflated slightly but nodded.

They talked for a while—small, easy things. Aiko showed him more drawings.

Yuki told animated stories about his soccer matches, complete with dramatic reenactments.

Their mother watched from the armchair, sipping tea, a soft smile on her face.

And slowly, carefully, Luca felt something in him ease.

They’re good kids. Really good kids.

They didn’t know the history.

Didn’t know the weight of what had happened between him and their mother.

To them, he was just their brother—someone they’d been waiting to meet, someone who’d finally arrived.

It was innocent. Pure.

And it hurt in a way Luca hadn’t expected.

After a while, Aiko yawned, rubbing her eyes.

Yuki’s energy had finally started to wane, his stories coming slower.

Their mother stood. "Alright, you two. How about you go play upstairs for a bit? Luca and I need to talk."

"But—" Yuki started.

"Just for a little while," she said, voice firm but kind. "Then you can come back down."

Aiko looked between them, understanding passing across her features. She took Yuki’s hand. "Come on. Let’s go."

Yuki grumbled but followed, casting one last hopeful look at Luca before disappearing up the stairs.

The room fell silent.

Luca’s mother sat down in the chair across from him, hands folded in her lap, posture tense.

"They really like you," she said softly.

"They’re good kids," Luca replied.

"They are." Pride flickered in her voice, then faded. "But we need to talk, Luca. Really talk."

Luca’s stomach twisted.

He’d known this was coming, but that didn’t make it easier.

"Okay."

She took a breath, gathering herself. "Ask me. Whatever you need to ask. I owe you that much."

Luca looked at her—this woman who was his mother, who was a stranger, who had shaped his life through absence as much as presence.

The question came out raw, unfiltered.

"Mom... I don’t understand. Why did you leave me? I was ten. I needed you."

Her face crumpled, just for a second, before she steadied herself. "I know," she whispered. "And I can’t undo it... even though I wish I could every single day."

"Then why?" Luca’s voice cracked. "Why *me*? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," she said immediately, leaning forward, urgent. "You did nothing wrong, Luca. Nothing."

"Then *why*?why didn’t you just take me with you?." The word came out louder than he intended, years of hurt pouring into it.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Because I thought I was protecting you."

Luca laughed—bitter, disbelieving. "Protecting me? By disappearing? By letting me grow up alone, wondering what I did to make my own mother leave?"

"Yes." She opened her eyes, meeting his directly. "I know it sounds cruel. I know how it must have looked. But I believed it was the only way."

"That makes no sense." Luca’s hands clenched into fists. "How is leaving your child protection?"

She took a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes. "Because I wasn’t strong, Luca. I was scared. I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to be the mother you needed. I was falling apart, piece by piece, and I didn’t want you to fall with me."

"So you just walked away?" Luca’s voice dropped, quieter now, edged with pain. "You thought absence was love?"

"No." She shook her head. "I thought your father could give you the stability I couldn’t. I thought you deserved a life untouched by my chaos, my failures. I thought staying would damage you more than leaving. I was having panic attacks, Luca. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t function. I was becoming someone I didn’t recognize, and I was terrified that you’d see me like that—broken, weak. I thought you needed a mother who had it together, and I wasn’t her."

Luca stared at her, the words sinking in, rearranging everything he’d believed for twelve years. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"You really believed that?" His voice was barely a whisper now.

"I did." She nodded, tears flowing freely now. "And I’ve regretted it every single day since. There wasn’t a morning I didn’t wake up missing you, wondering what you were doing, if you were happy, if you remembered me. If you hated me."

"I waited for you, Mom." Luca’s voice broke completely. "For years. Every birthday, every holiday, I thought maybe this time you’d come back. Maybe this time you’d remember you had a son."

She made a sound—half sob, half gasp—pressing a hand to her mouth. "I know," she whispered through her fingers. "And that’s the part that haunts me. That will haunt me for the rest of my life. I left because I loved you... not because I stopped being your mother. I just didn’t believe I was good enough to raise you. I thought you’d be better off without me dragging you down."

Silence fell between them, heavy with years of pain.

Luca’s hands trembled. His eyes burned. "I don’t know if I can forgive you," he said, the words raw and honest.

"You don’t have to." She leaned forward, desperate for him to understand. "Not today. Not even tomorrow. Not ever, if that’s what you need. Just... understand that I loved you the only way I knew how, even if it broke both of us. Even if I made the worst choice a mother could make."

Luca looked down at his hands—saw them shaking, felt the tears he’d been holding back finally spill over.

"I was so angry," he admitted, voice cracking. "For so long. I’m still angry. But hearing this... understanding why..." He shook his head. "It’s different. It doesn’t fix it, but it’s different."

"You deserved better than the version of me back then," she said, voice thick with regret. "You deserved a mother who could hold herself together. I’m sorry I wasn’t her. I’m sorry I let my fear make decisions that hurt you."

"I needed you," Luca whispered, the words he’d carried for twelve years finally released. "I just needed my mom."

"And I still need you." She reached across the space between them, hand hovering, asking permission. "I’m here now, Luca. I know I can’t erase what I did. I know it doesn’t fix the years you spent without me. But I want to try again—if you’ll let me. Even if it’s just... small steps. Phone calls. Visits. Whatever you can give me, I’ll take it. I just want to be in your life again, in whatever way you’ll allow."

Luca looked at her outstretched hand, saw it trembling.

Slowly—so slowly—he reached out.

Their fingers touched.

Then clasped.

And something in Luca’s chest that had been locked tight for twelve years began, just barely, to open.

"I can’t promise anything," he said, voice thick. "I can’t promise I won’t still be angry sometimes. Or hurt. Or that this will be easy."

"I don’t need promises," she said, squeezing his hand gently. "I just need a chance."

They sat there, hands joined across the space that had separated them for so long, tears flowing freely now from both of them.

"One step at a time," Luca said finally, echoing her words from earlier.

She nodded, a broken, hopeful smile breaking through. "One step at a time."

Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

"Are you done talking?" Yuki’s voice called out. "Can we show Luca the garden now?"

Their mother laughed—watery, but genuine. She looked at Luca, question in her eyes.

He nodded.

"Yes," she called back. "We’re done. Come on down."

Aiko and Yuki appeared, Yuki already grabbing Luca’s free hand, tugging.

"Come on! We have a tire swing!"

Luca stood, letting himself be pulled along, glancing back at his mother.

She smiled at him—sad but hopeful, broken but healing.

And for the first time in twelve years, Luca smiled back.

*One step at a time.*