Chapter 264: You’re Not My Mother I [Dominic’s POV]
I got home that night and just sat in the car.
The engine was still running. The house lights were on. Someone inside was probably waiting for me to come in, eat dinner, and smile like everything was okay.
I didn’t move.
I stared at the steering wheel like it might tell me how my life ended up here.
When was the last time anything in my life felt normal?
I can’t remember the last time I laughed for real. The real kind that warms your heart.
I miss him.
I miss Ash so much it makes me feel broken. Like I built my whole balance on one person and now I’m wobbling.
I want to hug him.
I want to bury my face in his shoulder and smell him.
I want to kiss him, and tell him how much I love him.
But I can’t.
I finally shut the engine off and went inside. The staff asked if I wanted dinner. I shook my head, walked straight to my room, and locked the door.
All I could see was Ash at that stupid dinner.
I dragged a hand down my face.
"I didn’t mean for it to happen like that," I said aloud. "I swear, I didn’t."
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself after seeing Ash’s face tonight.
I couldn’t go in with the engagement next weekend. I have to end everything.
Few minutes later.
I ended up on the rooftop.
Funny how your body remembers places where everything went wrong.
The air was cooler there. I leaned against the railing, breathing hard, trying to calm myself down.
Think, I told myself. Just think.
I sat on the ground and pulled out the sketchbook Ash gifted me on my birthday.
I flipped through the pages slowly. They were all sketches of me. Versions of myself I didn’t even know existed until he saw them.
Then the last page was a sketch of us.
His head was on my shoulder, and my arms were around him.
Underneath, in his wobbly handwriting:
Twenty-one sketches.
Twenty ways you make me feel seen.
I let out a broken laugh, and a tear dropped straight onto the word seen.
"Of course you do," I whispered. "You always see me."
I hugged the sketchbook to my chest and stared at the city lights.
I don’t want to live like this.
I really don’t.
I was still staring at the city lights when I felt a hand hover over my shoulder.
It didn’t touch me at first.
"Dom..."
I turned my head slowly.
Mom was standing there, wrapped in one of her cardigans like the night was colder for her than it was for me. Her eyes flicked to my face.
"You should come downstairs for dinner," she said gently. "You’ve been refusing food."
I didn’t answer.
I kept looking straight ahead, pretending the city was more interesting than this conversation.
"You’ve lost so much weight," she sighed. "You don’t have to starve yourself."
"Dominic," she tried again, and this time her voice cracked just a little.
"What do you want me to say?" I shrugged. "I’m not hungry."
She hesitated, like she hadn’t expected that answer.
"I just... I’m worried," she sighed, then sat beside me on the concrete, close enough that I could smell her perfume. The same one she’d worn my whole life that used to mean safety.
"You used to come up here every night," she said after a while, pointing at the sky. "You’d lie on the floor and name the stars. You said it made you feel safe."
"Mom," I huffed, "I was like eight."
Her face fell. "You were so adorable. I miss...."
"No," I cut in, still not looking at her. "Let’s not do this fakeass bonding mother-son thing."
"You don’t remember me after that," I went on. "You remember a child, not a teenager. Not the boy who stopped sleeping. Not the one who lost his bestfriend and boyfriend."
"That’s not..."
"You don’t know me," I hissed. "Because somewhere along the way, you decided listening to your husband was easier than listening to your son."
"That’s not..." she tried again.
"You chose him," I cut in. "Every time I tried to talk, every time I asked for help, every time I told you I was hurting....you chose your husband."
She went quiet.
Her hands trembled slightly in her lap.
"I never agreed with everything your father did," she whispered. "I just... I didn’t know how to stop it."
I burst into laughter, at how ridiculous she sounded.
"Stop it?" My voice echoed. "Mom, I wasn’t asking you to stop him. I was asking you to see me."
She sighed, dropping her head.
"I didn’t have a choice," she said weakly. "You have to understand that."
Something inside me snapped.
I stood up in anger, running a hand through my hair.
"Don’t," I said. "Please don’t say that word to me."
She looked up at me, looking scared of her own son.
"Choice," I repeated bitterly.
"Dominic, please..."
"No," I said firmly. "Don’t say that word to me like it’s some excuse that makes this okay.
I ran my hands through my hair again. "Do you have any idea how many choices were made for me? How many times I learned that who I am is inconvenient?"
"That was never...:"
"You watched him turn my life into a contract," my voice started shaking. "And you stayed quiet."
"I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me from what?" I asked bitterly, shaking my head. "Him? Or the truth that you don’t want a gay son?"
"Dominic!" She yelled.
"No!" I shouted back, the sound echoed into the empty night. "Don’t. Just... don’t! I hate you so much."
Her lips trembled. "I didn’t know what else to do. I was never... I..."
"You weren’t there!" I sniffled. "You weren’t there when everything I loved was being ripped away! I loved Liam so much... I still love Ash so much... and all I ever wanted was for you to be there too!"
Tears ran freely down my face. "I needed you, Mom! I needed you to love me for me, to protect me, to care... but you weren’t there. I loved you mom. I really did. But now....you’re... you’re not my mother!"
Her face fell. "No.. please, don’t say that." I saw the pain flicker in her eyes, but i didn’t care.
I turned away from her, letting the tears fall freely, gripping the railing like it could hold the pieces of me together.
She stayed there, quietly crying, but I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t breathe here anymore.
"Dominic."
She kept calling me but I didn’t answer.
"Your dad...is sick." Her voice shook.
"Of course, he’s sick in the head." I didn’t stop.
Then she sniffled. "He’s...he’s dying."
That stopped me, as I turned around slowly.
"What..what do you mean?" I asked in shock.
She looked away. "Stage three."
The world went quiet.
"...Cancer?" I whispered.
She nodded.
My eyes widened.
"We found out last year," she continued. "He didn’t want you or Diane to know."
Then, she stepped closer. "Dominic..."
"No," I said, holding up a hand. "Don’t touch me."
My chest felt too tight. My thoughts were crashing into each other.
I pressed my palms to my face, dragging them down slowly.
She dropped her head, as tears spilled down her face.
"I know I was never a good mother." She admitted. "But...please... don’t hate me. I’m still your mother."
