In Love With My Bully-Chapter 124: You Want Us Both

She stepped toward him now, fierce and fire-eyed. "You want us both. You want me, my beauty wrapped in power, and you want Chayara—delicate, broken."

"What is happening to you?" he asked, hands half raised in helplessness. "You love your cousin. What is going on?"

"I’m going to my house," Queen announced. She turned away from him.

"The house you refuse to live in with me," she added without looking back. "Because you cannot handle an independent woman. You cannot have both worlds, Drake."

"I am not Chay," she said with finality, hand on the knob. "And Chay isn’t me."

"I don’t even want Chay like that! All we ever had was one kiss—one kiss to draw the line!" Drake snapped, arms wide in exasperation.

"You kissed her?!"

Drake paled instantly. Oh shit. He’d said too much. He had pulled the pin from the grenade and lobbed it into his own living room.

"Queen—" he started, hand extended.

"When was this?" she demanded, eyes wide.

"Queen, you need to listen to me!"

"No, Drake. When. Exactly. Was. This?" Each word was its own sentence.

Drake exhaled, shoulders slumping. "During our honeymoon."

Queen turned.

The front door shut behind her.

*****

Guy had been knocking on Chay’s door for what felt like a lifetime. His knuckles were red, and his thumb had already hovered over his phone screen a dozen times—typing messages, deleting them, typing again. He had called. Twice. No answer. Texted. Multiple. No reply. Voice notes. Ignored.

Now he stood on her doorstep. "Chay, open up or I’m going to camp out here forever! We need to go to the tax office and the registration center, Chay!" he banged again, louder this time.

"I swear I will bring a folding chair and a thermos," he muttered to himself.

Just as he was about to knock again, the door creaked open.

A very pale, sleep-rumpled Chay stood in the frame, hair a tangled mess. Her eyes were swollen from crying. "I can’t do this right now, Guy. I’m sorry. I’ll let you know when I can."

She moved to close the door again, but he wasn’t having it.

Guy slid past her, strolling into the apartment with no regard for her emotional quarantine. "I’m not here to hold your hand or pity you," he said, dropping his bag onto the couch. "Your mother is dead. I understand that. I sympathize. But what you are doing is unhealthy."

"You know nothing about me." Chay spat, eyes flashing. She crossed her arms, more to hold herself together than to seem defensive. She felt exposed, cracked open. Grief had stripped her bare, and now here he was, shining a spotlight. freewebnσvel.cøm

She looked at him, daring him to argue. Daring him to back off.

But he didn’t.

"Actually," he said slowly, eyes narrowing, "I don’t give a shit about all of that."

"Where is the woman you bloomed into these past weeks?" he continued, stepping closer—not enough to invade, but enough to challenge. "That woman? She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t hiding."

"That’s not me," Chay snapped, the words tumbling out faster than she meant. "That was... you trying to turn me into something I’m not. You were trying to turn me into Queen."

"You know how I feel about your cousin," he said evenly. "She isn’t my favorite person. I wouldn’t want you to be like that. Cold, arrogant, and pompous, thinking the world owes her a favor. No offense."

"Some offense," Chay muttered, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie.

"I want you to be the woman you want to be," he said more softly now. "And these past weeks? You have been. You’ve been happy. Admit it."

Chay looked away. Her lips trembled slightly before she pressed them together, trying to keep everything in.

"I don’t have the energy anymore," she whispered. Her arms slowly dropped to her sides as she sagged against the armrest of her sofa. "It feels like the universe is against me. Like no matter how hard I try to climb out of the pit, it rains just enough to make the mud too slippery."

Guy stayed quiet, sensing she wasn’t done.

"In my safe space, nothing can hurt me," she said. "And on top of that...I feel like I’m losing my best friend. My cousin. And... and I don’t know why."

Her eyes filled again, with confusion.

Guy stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

"I may not be your cousin," he said.

Chay chuckled against his chest, the sound muffled and reluctant, but real. "Well, that’s a relief."

"I may not even be your best friend," he continued, tightening his hold slightly, his hand gently sliding to the small of her back. "But you got me. Not because I think you need me—" he leaned back just enough to look into her eyes "—but because I want you to."

It was said so simply, without any grandeur or expectation.

Chay pulled away slowly, the warmth of his embrace lingering. She looked up at him, her face softer now, eyes no longer full of tears.

"Thank you," she said.

"How much time do you need?" he asked, one brow raised. "Because I don’t intend to go easy on you. Your father asked me to promise to make you the greatest fashionista in the city and that is exactly what I plan to do."

Chay wasn’t sure if it was his confidence, or the fact that he remembered her father’s words. Maybe it was just the quiet way he stood there, unshakable and sure, without ever asking her to be anything more than what she already was.

Or maybe—maybe it was the loneliness. The grief. The ache for something warm in a world that had gone cold.

Whatever it was, it propelled her forward.

Without thinking, without planning, she stepped into him—and kissed him.

It was a quiet, urgent kiss. Gentle lips brushing over his. Her hand touched his chest.

Guy stiffened in surprise.

One second.

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