His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 191: Why Did You Lie To Me?

Chapter 190- Why Did You Lie To Me?

LOGAN’S POV

"Yes, son. Yes, son... that is me."

I froze.

That voice—it was familiar... but it felt like it belonged to a dream I had a long time ago. A dream I had already let go of.

I turned my eyes from her to the girl standing next to her.

The girl... looked just like me.

Same eyes. Same nose. Same chin. The only difference was—she was the female version of me.

If I had been born a girl, we would’ve looked like twins.

I couldn’t stop staring. My chest rose and fell quickly as if I had just run a race. My hands trembled slightly, and my head began to spin with a thousand questions.

I looked back at the woman I had just called Mom. She didn’t correct me. She didn’t look confused. In fact, she was looking at me like she had been waiting years just to hear me say that word.

Then I turned to my dad.

He wasn’t saying anything.

Just standing there.

Like a statue.

His face was pale. His lips were pressed into a tight line.

There had to be some explanation. There had to be something I was missing.

Am I dreaming? Did I finally lose my mind?

I didn’t know what else to do, so I pinched my arm—hard.

It hurt.

This was real.

She was real.

Standing right there in the living room with who I could only assume was my little sister. My real little sister.

My head was pounding. I didn’t even realize that I had dropped my bag to the floor.

"What’s happening, Dad?" I finally said, my voice barely coming out. "What the hell is going on?"

For a second... I forgot I was planning to leave.

"Dad... you have to tell me something. Say something. Please. Don’t leave me in the dark," I said, almost pleading. "Don’t dare leave me in the dark right now."

My throat was dry.

I needed answers.

Anything.

Just give me something to hold on to.

I turned slightly to look at Tyler.

But his face looked just like mine.

Frozen. Confused. Lost.

He knew my story. He knew I didn’t have a mom.

So... what was this?

If she was alive all this time, then why had I never seen even a single picture of her in the house? Not one. Not even by accident.

Not even a photo of that little girl who looked just like me.

All these years... there were only two people in this house—my dad, and me.

Now suddenly... this?

I felt like my head was going to explode. My mind was pulling in a hundred different directions. I couldn’t focus on one thing.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted someone to grab me and shake me and explain everything like I was a baby—because, right now, that’s the only way I could even begin to understand.

"Someone please tell me what is going on," I said, louder this time. "Please!"

I looked at my dad again, tears threatening to fill my eyes.

"Say something, Dad," I whispered. "Say something."

Does this man want me to go mad?

Is that what he wants? Because I swear... if he doesn’t talk now—if he doesn’t open his damn mouth and give me the truth—I’m going to lose it. I’m not joking. I’ll completely lose it. I’ll snap.

"If you don’t answer me this very instant," I said through clenched teeth, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and panic, "I swear with everything inside of me—I’m going to walk out of this place and never come back. I’ll leave, and I won’t ever step foot in this damn house again!"

"So answer me!" I yelled, taking a step forward. "Why is she here? Huh?! Did she rise up from the dead or something? Is this some sick joke?"

I pointed toward the woman still standing in the doorway, the little girl peeking out nervously from behind her.

"I thought she died," I whispered, my voice cracking mid-sentence. "You told me she died, Dad. You said it like it was the truth... like there was no question about it. So why—HOW—is she standing right here, right now?!"

My knees buckled a little as dizziness hit me like a wave. Everything around me started to blur, and the room began spinning.

Tyler noticed.

He moved without hesitation, rushing to my side. He took my hand in his, squeezing it gently, rubbing his thumb across my skin like he was trying to calm me down.

And for a second... I swear to God... I felt my heart slow down.

Just a little.

His touch anchored me. Pulled me back.

If it weren’t for him, maybe I’d already have lost it. Maybe I’d already be screaming my lungs out, tearing this place apart.

Then I snapped again.

"Answer me now!!!" I shouted at my dad, louder than before, my voice echoing through the whole house. "ANSWER ME THIS VERY INSTANT!"

The silence broke—but not from him.

It was her voice this time.

"Logan, son," she said, softly, her tone shaking. "Please... this isn’t the time for questions. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be... but please, just listen. Don’t leave. Please."

I blinked at her in shock as she took a shaky breath and stepped forward, her voice breaking.

"I’m your mother," she said. "And I would be so grateful if you could just... listen to me. Respect me. Just a little. I know this is hard. I know this is sudden. But I’m here now, and I want to be in your life."

She looked like she was going to cry.

"I already know everything about you, Logan," she continued, her voice soft like she was talking to a wounded animal. "And I support you. Completely. I’m your biggest fan, no matter what’s going on inside you or what you’re facing. So please... please don’t walk away from me. I would be so heartbroken if you left me again."

Again?

That word—again—made something snap in me.

Anger rose in my chest like fire, burning through every calm thought I had left.

"First of all," I said, my voice suddenly sharp, cold, and controlled, "hold it right there."

She stopped moving.

"Why are you acting like we’ve known each other all our lives?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "You keep calling me your son like we’re close... like you’ve always been there."

I laughed bitterly.

"I don’t know you," I said, staring her straight in the eyes. "Me calling you ’Mom’ earlier? That was shock talking. That was my brain trying to make sense of what I was seeing."

"It doesn’t mean I know you. It doesn’t mean I love you."

You don’t get to show up and tell me how sad you’ll be if I leave.

You don’t get to stand there and beg me to stay like you’ve always been around.

You were gone.

You were never there.

How can you act like it would hurt you?

Like you even know me?

I looked her straight in the eyes and shook my head.

"Whatever your name is... spare me the details," I said coldly. "Spare me all those emotional lines and fake words. I’m not in the mood."

My chest was burning.

"Besides... I was talking to my father—not to some stranger I just found out is alive right now." I said, spitting the words out like poison.

Her face dropped.

Her eyes changed—like I’d just stabbed her in the heart. She looked hurt. But I didn’t care. Not one bit.

Because I was hurt too.

I’ve been hurting for years.

Where was she when I was crying on birthdays? Where was she when I needed someone to wipe my tears or tell me I wasn’t crazy? Where was she when I asked my dad about her a million times and he gave me the same dead-end answer?

She was nowhere. And now she’s here—pretending?

No.

Tyler’s finger lightly scratched against my palm, like he was trying to calm me down. Like he was telling me to just stop talking.

But I couldn’t stop.

Everything about this moment made my skin crawl. I was so angry it felt like I could tear this house down with my bare hands.

And then Lucian—my so-called father—finally spoke.

"You can’t speak to her that way, Logan," he said gently, like he was trying to control the fire I had already set loose. "She’s still your mom. She gave birth to you. She deserves some respect."

I snapped my head toward him.

"She left you, Logan. I know you’re angry, but please... don’t be mean. She’s been through a lot. She’s fighting her own demons too. Just give her a chance. For the title alone. For being your mother."

For the first time in my entire life, I had the real urge—the real sick, strong urge—to walk up to him and land a punch so hard it could send him into a coma.

"Point of correction," I said, breathing heavily, my voice shaking with rage. "She. Is. Not. My. Mother."

"I don’t know her. A real mother doesn’t disappear. A real mother doesn’t abandon her child and let him grow up believing she’s dead."

My voice cracked.

"So don’t come here telling me to respect her or treat her right. Don’t preach to me about how to talk to someone who gave me nothing but silence my whole life."

I looked at him then. Lucian. The man who raised me with lies.

"And you," I said, my voice colder than ever, "you don’t even deserve to be called a father."

His face froze.

"You don’t deserve the title," I continued. "You lied to me, Lucian. For years. You told me she was dead."

I stared into his eyes, full of nothing but rage and betrayal.

"So tell me now," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "How come the so called dead person is now alive?"