In Love With My Bully-Chapter 122: I’m Not Going Anywhere

Chay couldn’t speak. Her mouth moved, but words wouldn’t come. Her shoulders shook against Guy’s chest, her sobs coming in gasps now. The word mother echoed in her mind.

Ever since she was born, prison walls had been the only setting for her family reunions. Her earliest memories weren’t birthday cakes or bedtime stories—they were security checks, visiting windows, guards with tired eyes and pity in their stares. Her father had been serving life, and her mother... she had hope. She was supposed to get out. To be free. To sit beside her at dinner.

"She was supposed to get out," she murmured again.

Nita placed a hand on Chay’s shoulder again, tears threatening to spill from her own eyes. "I know, baby. I know."

Guy looked at her, still holding her tightly.

"Whatever you need," he said into her hair. "I’m not going anywhere."

Guy just held her, his hand stroking slow circles on her back.

Guy looked up at Nita. "I’ll bring her."

"Thank you," Nita replied gently.

*****

At Gwen’s funeral, the mood was oppressively solemn. Richard’s entire Numero family was present.

Except for Abby, of course.

Abby had sent her condolences to Chayara.

Queen stood to the side, a little removed from the core gathering. Her little black dress was Chanel, hugging her body. Her wide-brimmed hat shadowed her face, and her sunglasses concealed her expression.

Queen didn’t have pity to spare for Gwen. The woman had been a monster in fine jewelry, a woman who tried to kill her mother. Queen’s mother was everything. If Gwen were being buried in a trash bag, Queen would’ve handed over the duct tape.

Still, she stood there, because the rest of her family had decided to extend grace in Chay’s direction. That’s what good people did. They showed up. Even when it hurt. Even when the person in the casket didn’t deserve flowers.

"You should be by her side," Richard whispered. He stood beside her, his gaze fixed on Chayara.

"I will. Just not here," Queen said, arms folded, her posture perfect and spine straight as an iron rod.

"This is where she needs you," Richard said, stepping closer. "After this, you know Chay... she’ll shut everyone out, just like she did when Grandpa died."

Queen turned her head away, blinking behind her sunglasses. "I know her," she said bitterly. "Better than you think."

Richard’s eyes softened, but he wasn’t backing down. "Then act like it. Be the person she expects in her corner."

"I cannot, Dad," Queen snapped. "I’m not going to stand here and pretend, like everybody else, that Chay’s mother wasn’t a bitch. She got what she deserved."

Queen’s lips trembled slightly after the outburst.

Richard sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. "At some point, Queen... you need to learn that love should conquer all. Gwen was Chay’s mother. Your cousin and best friend just lost her mother. Be a friend first."

Queen’s face shifted. A flicker of guilt crossed her features. But she buried it, fast and deep. She tilted her chin toward the figures near the casket. "My husband is already doing that," she said coolly, nodding in Drake’s direction.

Drake was beside Chayara, holding her in the same way someone might shield a candle from the wind. His arms were wrapped around her. The image made Queen’s stomach twist.

Richard followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing more. With a sigh of surrender, he turned and walked toward the cluster of mourners who’d come to say farewell to Gwen.

He reached for his wife’s hand and stood beside her quietly for a few moments, trying to center himself in the stillness.

"Have you noticed something off with Queen?" he murmured.

Nita turned to him, her brows knitting together in concern. "No. Why?"

"Nothing," Richard replied too quickly. "It’s just... something is wrong."

Nita glanced discreetly at her daughter, still stiff at the edges of the group.

Richard couldn’t explain it, but there was a crack forming. Her words were getting sharper, her emotions harder to predict. She was too poised. As if pretending to be unbothered.

*****

After the funeral, Chayara sat in the cold, steel-colored visitation room of the prison, her arms folded so tightly across her chest it was like she was trying to hold herself together. The plastic chair beneath her creaked with every subtle shift she made, and the fluorescent lights above flickered much like her mood.

Her phone had been ringing off the hook for the past two days, the prison number lighting up the screen again and again. She hadn’t picked up once.

But when Uncle Richard had gently placed a hand on her shoulder that morning and said, "Go see him," she couldn’t tell him no. So, she came.

But she wasn’t going to smile. She wasn’t going to cry.

She was angry.

She was angry at them. Her parents. The duo who had built their lives like a house of cards in a thunderstorm, without once considering what it would mean for her.

The door on the far side of the room buzzed, then opened.

"Baby," Sam said, stepping into the room.

"Dad," Chay replied curtly, not standing, not smiling.

Sam took the seat across from her and tried a smile.

"Listen," he began, folding his hands on the table. "I know you don’t take loss very well, but I needed to see how you’re doing."

"As well as I can be. I mean, Mom is gone. You’re in jail. Great life." She leaned back in her chair, tossing her hands up in mock celebration. "Just what every little girl dreams of."

"Hey... Chay... don’t be like that," Sam said gently, flinching slightly at the sarcasm. "I just—"

"No...Don’t tell me how to be."

Sam looked down, shoulders sagging under the weight of years’ worth of mistakes.

"Did you guys, for once, ever think about how screwed up my life would be without you in it? No?" she demanded, her eyes wide, glistening now from fire. "Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I’d like to grow up without needing visitor badges and hearing my friends whisper about my murderous parents?"

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