In Love With My Bully-Chapter 129: Take Whose Side?

"Take whose side?"

"Chayara’s side! She is the broken one. She is the one we all have to walk on eggshells around. Even you—my mother—will always run to her at every little whine. Every crisis, every tear, every time she flinches, the world falls over itself to comfort her."

Nita stared at her daughter, silent now, lips pressed in a line.

Queen took a shaky breath, her hands now trembling, betraying the fire in her eyes. "Everyone does," she muttered, softer this time. "You. Drake. Dad. Even Grandpa, when he was alive."

"What has Chayara got to do with what is going on between you and Drake?" Nita asked, more gently this time. Nita saw this coming, she warned her husband, but of course, he didn’t listen to her.

"Nothing..." Queen whispered, her voice losing steam. The anger was starting to collapse in on itself. "It’s nothing."

She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and added, "I will do as you say."

"Queen—"

"Mum, I have to go." Queen turned swiftly, already halfway to the door. "I have an early morning."

*****

When Guy had casually said he was having drinks with "friends," Chayara’s internal panic meter hovered at a reasonable 60%. That was manageable. She could do "friends." She had mentally prepared herself for awkward laughter. But then he added, "There are six of them," and her mental hazard lights started flashing.

Six.

Six friends. Six possible threats. Six reasons to fake a bathroom emergency. Her panic shot to 80%. She still pushed through, convinced herself she could be social and besides Guy wasn’t taking no for an answer.

What he failed to mention—deliberately, she was sure of it now—was that these six "friends" were not generic work bros or party girls.

They were his sisters.

Six drop-dead gorgeous, extremely expressive, emotionally unfiltered sisters.

By the time Chayara realized what was happening—right there at a bar downtown—she was being pulled into a series of hugs that were more like tackles. Red lipstick kisses rained down her cheeks. Perfume clouds enveloped her lungs. Her feet barely touched the ground.

Panic: 150%.

Flight mode: activated.

Speech: unavailable.

"Okay, careful guys. You will break her," Guy said, but his voice held a laugh he wasn’t bothering to hide.

She turned to him with wide, desperate eyes. But all she got was a wink and a hand that rested reassuringly on the small of her back, keeping her anchored in the chaos.

"You must be Chayara Numero," said the one with the dark red curls and the confident, high-society tone. Her smile was wide and unnervingly knowing. "I’m Lola. The eldest."

Chayara tried to speak, to thank her or say hello, but her voice had apparently left the building. She turned instead to Guy, hoping he’d translate her panic-stricken silence. He did.

"Yes, she is Chayara," he confirmed, raising a brow at his sisters. "And you guys are suffocating her."

"Oh my god, I’m sorry!" gasped a sleek, silver-blonde woman in a body-hugging jumpsuit. "It’s just been so long since we saw this knucklehead. We were excited." Her tone was flirtatious even though she was speaking about her brother. "Zara," she added with a wink.

"Hi," Chayara finally managed, voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding like she’d just been chased down an alley by paparazzi.

Guy gently took her hand, threading their fingers together. He led her through the maze of perfumes and sequins to a massive round table, clearly custom-reserved. It had an entire centerpiece made of glass roses. Bottles of beer, brandy, and tiny flaming shots were already set out. Chayara was beginning to think this wasn’t just a night out—it was a full-on party.

She sat down cautiously beside Guy. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. "Relax," he murmured. "They’re like puppies. Loud, judgmental puppies. But they are cute."

"They are all your sisters?"

She blinked hard, her eyes darting from one stunning, boisterous woman to another. Six of them. Tall, short, loud, louder, fierce, elegant, and radiating confidence.

Before Guy could respond, Roxy grinned and leaned in.

"Yes!" she declared proudly, raising a martini glass like it was a mic. "It’s the reason he’s such a sweetheart. We’ve drilled into him for years how to treat a woman."

Chay blushed so hard, she could feel the heat crawling all the way to her ears. She cast a side glance at Guy, who merely shrugged with an easy smile, sipping from his tumbler like this was perfectly normal.

The table was chaos. Beautiful, alcohol-soaked chaos. The ladies were speaking in tandem, voices rising over one another. One was talking about her ex-husband, another about a travel blog she was launching, and somehow it all coexisted in a wild harmony that was loud but not unpleasant.

Chay, initially stunned into silence, noticed something interesting. Whenever Guy opened his mouth to speak, every single sister paused. Their attention snapped to him as though his opinion was scripture. He was their anchor, their only brother and their collective joy.

She suddenly saw him differently. A man who had learned tenderness in a war zone of strong personalities.

Skye was voted the designated driver via a dramatic, no-mercy game of rock, paper, scissors. Chay kept whispering, "I’ll drive. I haven’t had that much yet."

Guy leaned in and gently, conspiratorially, whispered in her ear, "No use. It’s a tradition. They’ll all get smashed. Then they’ll order Ubers. The cars get picked up in the morning."

The night unraveled into glorious, tipsy mayhem. They played several drinking games, including one where everyone had to name ex-boyfriends in alphabetical order. Chayara lost that one immediately and groaned when she had to chug.

"A—Aaron," Lola said.

"B—Brian," Roxy followed. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"C—Caleb."

"D—Does he count if he ghosted you on WhatsApp?" Nova asked, already giggling.

Chayara, by the time it reached her again, she merely picked up a full glass of brandy and chugged. "I should probably give you guys a heads up if we are going to continue with this game. No boyfriends ever."