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

Chapter 190- Why Did You Lie To ?

LOGAN’S POV

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

I froze.

That voice—it was familiar... but it felt like it belonged to a dream I had a long ti 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 .

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

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 . She didn’t look confused. In fact, she was looking at like she had been waiting years just to hear 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 so explanation. There had to be sothing 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 assu 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 sothing. Say sothing. Please. Don’t leave in the dark," I said, almost pleading. "Don’t dare leave in the dark right now."

My throat was dry.

I needed answers.

Anything.

Just give sothing 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 ti, 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 .

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

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

"Soone please tell what is going on," I said, louder this ti. "Please!"

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

"Say sothing, Dad," I whispered. "Say sothing."

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

"So answer !" I yelled, taking a step forward. "Why is she here? Huh?! Did she rise up from the dead or sothing? Is this so 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 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 like a wave. Everything around 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 down.

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

Just a little.

His touch anchored . Pulled 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 now!!!" I shouted at my dad, louder than before, my voice echoing through the whole house. "ANSWER THIS VERY INSTANT!"

The silence broke—but not from him.

It was her voice this ti.

"Logan, son," she said, softly, her tone shaking. "Please... this isn’t the ti 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 . Respect . 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 . I would be so heartbroken if you left again."

Again?

That word—again—made sothing snap in .

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 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. " calling you ’Mom’ earlier? That was shock talking. That was my brain trying to make sense of what I was seeing."

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

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

You don’t get to stand there and beg 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 ?

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

"Whatever your na is... spare the details," I said coldly. "Spare 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 so 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 soone to wipe my tears or tell I wasn’t crazy? Where was she when I asked my dad about her a million tis and he gave the sa 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 down. Like he was telling to just stop talking.

But I couldn’t stop.

Everything about this mont 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 so respect."

I snapped my head toward him.

"She left you, Logan. I know you’re angry, but please... don’t be an. 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 ti 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 co here telling to respect her or treat her right. Don’t preach to about how to talk to soone who gave nothing but silence my whole life."

I looked at him then. Lucian. The man who raised 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 , Lucian. For years. You told she was dead."

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

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