Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 20: dumb little himbo needs protection

"Does she love you a lot?" Bella asked, her tone innocent but persistent. It had to be her thirtieth question in the past ten minutes—she was like a curious kid who didn't know when to stop.
I rolled my eyes, letting out a tired sigh. "Yes, she does. And I love her too," I said, leaning back into the seat. My gaze drifted up toward the bus ceiling, the peeling posters and faded ads a welcome distraction.
One of them caught my eye—a bright blue ad for Plan B: Male Edition. I almost laughed. I'd been on that same brand since getting with Elara. Just another weird reminder of how different my life had become.
"Does it hurt when men get hard?" Bella asked suddenly, her tone so blunt and casual it took me a full second to process what she'd just said.
My head snapped toward her. "What? No! Why would it—did you actually think that?" I stared at her, genuinely baffled.
She blinked, completely unfazed. "Well... my cousin said that it hurt. So I just thought it hurt for everyone."
I rubbed my temple, half laughing, half in disbelief. "Yeah, no, your cousin probably just—uh—had a different kind of problem."
Bella just nodded thoughtfully, like I'd just dropped some profound wisdom, and went right back to staring out the window as if nothing weird had just come out of her mouth.
"Sorry, guys, but I've gotta stop for some fuel," the bus driver called out, her voice calm and reassuring. "We'll pull into the station for a bit—it won't take long, promise." She flashed a friendly smile through the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road.
Nobody else seemed to care. The passengers stayed glued to their phones and tablets, faces lit by cold blue light, not a single head lifting in acknowledgment. The low hum of the engine filled the silence, mingling with the faint sound of notifications and quiet breaths. The whole bus just felt... detached, like everyone was in their own little world.
"Annoying," Bella muttered, smacking her teeth in irritation.
"You gotta go home or something?" I asked, glancing her way.
She shook her head, crossing her arms. "No. I hate home. I just don't like seeing more people get on the bus."
Fair enough. I'd never pegged her as the people-loving type anyway.
When the bus finally pulled into the station, a few passengers shuffled off, replaced by new ones. Most looked normal enough—except for one woman who stumbled in like she'd downed twenty bottles of cheap liquor. Her makeup was smeared, her hair looked like a bird's nest, and she clung to the railing as if gravity had a personal vendetta against her.
She didn't even bother paying her fare.
"I fucking hate men!" she suddenly screamed, slurring her words. "Stupid dicks—think they're all that! You all owe me your bodies!"
The entire bus went dead silent. Every passenger froze, the air thick with discomfort, no one daring to even look in her direction.
The woman's eyes locked onto me—wild, bloodshot, and full of something unhinged. My stomach dropped. I immediately turned my gaze toward Bella, hoping she'd understand the silent help me written all over my face.
"You!" the drunk woman slurred, pointing straight at me. "I want you, fucking whore!"
My throat tightened. I instinctively grabbed Bella's arm, tugging at her sleeve, desperate for her to notice.
"Huh?" Bella mumbled at first, then followed my line of sight to the staggering woman.
Her expression hardened instantly. "Piss off," she said flatly, her tone carrying a weight that made the air in the bus shift.
The woman paused, visibly thrown off for a second, but her drunken bravado didn't let up. "Shut up! Come here—" she slurred louder, reaching for my arm, "I deserve to release some of this pent-up energy!"
Her hand was inches away when Bella stood up, shoulders squared, her presence alone enough to make the woman falter. Bella wasn't having any of it—and for the first time, I felt the faintest spark of safety flare up in my chest.
"One last chance. Get the fuck away," Bella snapped, voice low and deadly. The drunk woman staggered, jaw set like she wanted a fight. "Just give me a second with him— I won't last long," she slurred, trying to lurch forward.
Bella didn't hesitate. Her fist rocketed out faster than I could blink and slammed into the woman's face with a sick, wet smack. The whole bus flinched; even I had to wince. Blood sprayed, a terrible, bright arc, and the woman collapsed, clutching her nose. I knew—just by the way she sagged—that it was bad: definitely broken, maybe even a concussion.
"Holy shit, Bella," I breathed as she dropped back into the seat beside me, breathing a fraction more slowly now, jaw tight.
The driver reboarded then, wiping her hands, about to call out, "Alright, we'll be on our way—" Her words cut off when she saw the woman crumpled on the floor, groaning.
She looked us over, eyes landing on Bella. There was no moralizing in her face—only a kind of tired understanding. "You did this, right?" she asked bluntly. "Don't worry—I heard her earlier while I was refueling. I get it. Just drag her out so we can go."
Bella hauled the drunk woman up, swinging her like a sack of garbage and heaving her out onto the gravel by the curb. The last blow had left the woman limp and unconscious, a ragged shape on the cold stones as the bus doors closed and the engine started again.
We reached the bus stop near my house faster than I expected. The ride felt shorter than usual—probably because I couldn't stop replaying everything that just happened. When we stepped out, Bella kept her hand on my shoulder, steady and protective, as we both thanked the driver before the bus pulled away.
"Will your sister-girlfriend get mad at me?" she asked, her tone small but hopeful, like she really didn't want the answer to be yes.
I sighed. "Maybe... we'll see," I muttered, starting down the familiar road home.
The walk was quiet, peaceful. Just like before, no one dared to look our way—no whispers, no stares, just people parting around us like we carried a warning sign. For once, I didn't mind the silence. With Bella's presence beside me and the evening wind brushing my face, it almost felt like heaven.
"Alright, we're here," I said, glancing over at Bella as we stood in front of the freshly cut lawn. Elara had trimmed it just a few days ago, and it still looked perfect—neat lines, trimmed edges, not a single leaf out of place.
We walked up the concrete trail, my heart thumping a little harder the closer we got. I pulled the key from my pocket and unlocked the door, the familiar creak greeting us as it swung open—
—and there she was.
Elara stood right in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. Her lips were pressed tight, her whole posture radiating 'I've been waiting' energy.
"So, Noah," she said slowly, voice cool but with that dangerous tremor I knew too well. "Who's this?"
I swallowed hard. Yeah... I should've seen this coming.
"This is Bella," I said quickly, trying to sound casual. "She helped me a lot today—with, uh, protection."
Bella gleamed with joy from behind me, her expression bright and proud like she'd just earned a medal. "I'm his friend," she said with a grin. "I hit a girl that tried to touch him."
Elara's face shifted instantly—from anger and suspicion to something softer, warmer. The tension in her shoulders melted, her lips curving into a pleased smile.
"Oh wow... that's amazing," she said, her tone suddenly sweet. "Come on in, both of you. We have a lot to talk about."
“Yes we certainly do” I said, she stepped aside, ushering us into the house. I blinked, a little stunned by how fast that turned around.
Guess this was gonna be smoother than I thought.