Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 45: new cut

I slung my backpack onto the couch the second I stepped through the door, barely caring that it thudded against the cushions. There was only one thing on my mind—cut my hair.
As I walked him to his home, Noah talked about how much he loved short hair. He said it with the brightest smile ever, talking about how good it looked on girls, how it was "clean and confident." And of course—Elara had short hair. She looked perfect in his eyes.
Now it was my turn to be perfect too.
I padded over to Mom who sat curled into the couch, for once looking surprisingly sober. Her eyes weren't glassy, and the smell of alcohol didn't cloud the air around her. Maybe she really was trying.
"Hey, Mom... could you cut my hair short?" I asked, standing in front of her. My voice felt small. "I want Noah to like me more."
She exhaled slowly, rubbing her face with both hands, exhausted in a way I couldn't place. "I guess so," she muttered. "Grab the scissors from the bathroom."
I nodded and headed down the hallway. Each step felt heavy, but my hands shook with anticipation. All I could think about was school today—the way Noah kept smiling at me, even after everything.
The way he didn't push me away, didn't look disgusted or angry, just... confused, but soft. Even when I kissed him, he didn't freeze, didn't recoil. He leaned into me—just a little. And he looked content.
Was I wrong to believe in that?
I stared into the bathroom mirror, gripping the cold metal scissors as the memory replayed in my mind.
If he still smiled at me after everything... then maybe he really did love me.
I walked back to my mom, handing her the scissors as she pushed herself up from the couch. Without a word, we stepped out onto the backyard porch—cold air brushing against my skin the moment the door shut behind us.
I slipped off my leather jacket and draped it over the railing before lowering myself into the lone wooden chair that sat in the middle of the porch. Mom stood behind me, the scissors glinting in her hand.
"Alright," she said gently, brushing her fingers through my hair one last time. "Don't worry. I know exactly what'll look good."
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, praying silently. Please let this turn out right. Please.
The first sharp snip sliced through the air, followed by a soft rain of blonde strands sliding down my shoulders and piling into my lap. More snaps followed—quick, decisive, unstoppable. There was no going back now. My stomach twisted, watching pieces of myself fall to the wooden boards below; pieces I'd spent years growing out now lying dead on the porch.
"I forgot how thick your hair was," Mom murmured. Her voice softened with nostalgia. "Don't fear, Bella. Before I landed this bar gig, I used to cut hair—remember? All those years ago, everyone came to me before prom." She let out a wistful sigh, the kind that carried ghosts of better days.
Meanwhile my heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't care about prom or nostalgia or memories. I just needed this to look good. I needed Noah to see me and feel something.
The scissors clicked again, and another bundle of blonde fell.
Please... please let him love it.
Ten minutes of agonizing silence. Ten minutes of scissors snapping and hair sliding down my shoulders like dead weight. Ten minutes of fighting every urge to stand up and run to the bathroom to see what the hell was happening to my head.
Then, finally—snip.
The blades clicked shut one last time, and everything went still. I stared up into my mom's blue eyes, searching her face for any hint of disaster.
"Is it good?" I asked, my voice cracking, desperation bleeding through every word.
For a second she didn't speak—just looked at me, really looked at me. Then she broke into a wide, proud smile and reached for the hand mirror leaning against the porch wall.
"You're mother still has it," she laughed, holding the mirror up in front of me from behind.
And—holy hell. She wasn't lying. I looked good. Better than good. Stronger. Sharper. Like a different version of myself finally stepped forward from under all that hair.
My mom leaned over my shoulder, smirking. "Noah's gonna want to gurgle your squirt when he sees you."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, my pulse kicking like a hammer. "God, I hope so."
-
(Noah pov)
"Don't go to work... call in sick..." I mumbled, my face buried against Elara's collarbone. Lying on top of her solid, warm body felt like being wrapped in armor—safe, protected, completely loved. Her chest rose and fell beneath me in a steady rhythm that almost rocked me back to sleep.
I felt her chuckle softly against my forehead, one hand sliding up and down my spine in slow, comforting strokes. "Yeah, you know what?" she sighed, voice husky from sleep. "I'm taking the rest of the week off. Emily can handle everything—girl never does anything anyway."
Her palms flattened against my back, steady and reassuring, and I melted further into her. The morning air leaking through the window was freezing, and the blanket wasn't doing much to help. I pulled it up higher, tightening my arms around her as a shiver crawled up my body.
"Pancakes today?" she whispered into my hair, her lips brushing the top of my head.
I only groaned in response, not willing to move even an inch. If I could sink into her and disappear, I would.
"Nah..." I finally muttered, voice muffled and tired. "I'll get too fat. I don't want you to hate me."
Silence. And then her arms wrapped around me even tighter, almost protective—almost defensive.
"Noah," she murmured, firm and gentle all at once, "there's nothing you could do to make me hate you."
Her heartbeat thudded against my chest, steady and real.
I closed my eyes, letting myself believe her.
A sudden, sharp knock echoed through the house—three taps, evenly spaced. My stomach tightened immediately. I knew that knock anywhere. Bella.
Elara groaned under me, burying her face in her hand. I guess she recognized it too. "Seriously... so early?" she mumbled, voice rough with the last scraps of sleep.
"I'll go get it..." I sighed, peeling myself off her body, already missing the warmth I was leaving behind. Every step away felt wrong. I just wanted to stay wrapped around her forever and forget the rest of the world existed.
I tugged a tank top over my head and dragged myself to the front door, rubbing my eyes. I leaned forward and peeked through the peephole—yep, Bella. Standing tall, shoulders squared with her backpack on, that same confident posture she always had... but something was different.
I opened the door, and my breath caught in my throat.
Her hair—short, messy in an intentional way, framing her jaw perfectly—looked incredible. It sharpened her features, made her eyes brighter, and strangely... she looked older. Stronger. Beautiful.
Bella smiled down at me with a little tilt of her head, waiting—like she needed me to say something, anything.
"Wow, Bella..." The words fell out before I could think. "You're... absolutely stunning."
The compliment hung in the air. And suddenly something twisted low in my gut—like a pull I hadn't felt before. I felt myself drawn to her, almost magnetically. My face grew warm, my heartbeat picking up speed. It was like her haircut had cast some kind of spell on me, messing with my sense of balance.
I swallowed hard.
Why did she look so good?
"Thank you, Noah." Bella grinned, stepping past me like she lived here, shrugging off her jacket and dropping her bag to the floor without hesitation. "So what's up? Lazy day today? I can stay home too..." she teased, already making herself comfortable.
She flopped onto the couch, legs spread confidently, and leaned back like it was her personal throne. "So where's Elara? I want her to see this new cut," she said, fluffing the newly short strands with a smug little smirk.
I slid onto the couch beside her—god, she looked dangerously attractive. If she was stunning before, now she looked like she belonged on a poster somewhere. The way the haircut exposed her neck... it made my face heat up.
"She's in bed—"
Before I could finish, Elara appeared behind the couch, dragging her feet, hair messy from sleep. She let out a long yawn and stretched, cracking her back.
"Hey, Bella." Her voice was thick with morning rasp. "Awesome haircut. Looks like you joined the short hair team, huh?" She dropped down onto the other side of me, effectively sandwiching me between them. My entire body relaxed instantly, sinking into the warmth on both sides.
God. I felt safe. I felt wanted. It was overwhelming.
Bella yawned too, rubbing her stomach. "I'm starving. Where are we eating?" she asked, like the question was directed to both of us, but her eyes flicked to me.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Bella always had this effortless charm, like she didn't even need to try to pull attention in.
"I'm starving too," Elara murmured, resting her arm across my shoulders protectively. "Let's go to that diner we always order from—short walk away."
Bella perked up, sliding closer into my side until her thigh pressed firmly against mine. "Perfect. I could eat a whole cow."
Elara smirked. "Take it easy, champ. We still need to walk there."
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast my heart was beating.
Two women pressed against me, warmth on each side, and the way they both looked at me like I was the center of their world...
I was so fucked.
And I didn't even know if that was a bad thing anymore.
———
Bella’s new hair