MY STEPBROTHER’S ROOM WASN’T LOCKED.
EPISODE 3: Yam, Egg, and Forbidden Things
He said I tasted like dånger…
But dànger never tasted so sweet.
I woke up late.
Probably because I slept with a sín hanging on my lips.
Brushed my teeth like I was scrubbing guilt off my tongue.
But no matter how much I rinsed…
I still felt his breath on my neck.
His lips.
His whispers under my blanket.
“You still taste like dånger…”
Mtchewww.
I stepped into the kitchen.
Mum was frying eggs like she was béating dem0ns into it.
“Good morning,” I greeted.
“Morning, hope you slept well?”
If only she knew how well.
“Yam is on the table. Dayo is already there.”
Dayo.
My newly-acquired addicti0n.
I walked into the dining room ... and there he was.
White tee. Joggers. No shame.
He smiled like a person who shared a secret with your soul.
I sat opposite him.
His leg brushed mine.
Again.
I nearly poured tea on myself.
“You okay?” he asked, loud enough for my mum to hear.
“I’m fine,” I smiled, fake as Lagos customer service.
After breakfast, Mum and his dad went out.
Perfect.
I went back to my room, locked the door, and tried to read my novel.
I didn’t know when I dozed off.
I woke up to a knock.
“Small madam… I know you’re awake.”
It was him.
“Open up before I c0mmit a críme.”
“You already did,” I replied but still opened the door.
He stepped in like sín on two legs.
“You dreamt of me, didn’t you?” he whispered.
“I dreamt I poured hot yam water on your head.”
“You like vi0lence. That’s s3xy.”
I rolled my eyes, but my legs didn’t move.
He walked closer. Again.
Our bodies stood too close for safety.
“About last night...” I started.
“...I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” he finished.
He reached for my hand.
Our fingers interlocked like we’ve been doing it forever.
“Dayo…”
“Shhh.”
He pulled me close.
We kissed.
No talking.
No logic.
Just two hormones having a loud conversation.
Then we heard it...
His father’s voice from outside:
“Where’s Dayo?”
We jumped apart like guilty JAMB students during WAEC.
Dayo slipped into the wardrobe.
I was panting like someone who jogged through sín.
His father opened the door.
“Ah, sorry. I thought he was in here.”
“No, sir,” I smiled with toothpaste energy.
“Okay. Let me know if you see him.”
“Sure.”
He left.
I opened the wardrobe.
“You were about to snítch,” Dayo whispered.
“You were about to sp0il my destiny!”
We both laughed.
Too hard.
Until he paused and stared at me.
Serious this time.
“What if this thing… becomes something?”
“What thing?”
“Us.”
My brain screamed, “There is no US, we are not even supposed to BE!”
But instead…
I said nothing.
Just breathed.
And that silence?
Was danger0us.
That evening, while I was helping Mum arrange old boxes in the store, one envelope dropped.
It had a picture.
Two babies.
And a letter.
A love letter from Dayo’s dad to another woman.
“…our son Dayo will be 22 soon. I’m sorry I couldn’t marry you, but I’ve kept him close.”
Wait…
WHAT?!
Mum doesn’t know?!
That means…
They’re not even legally stepbrothers?
Then what are we?
Enemies? Strangers?
Or lovers by destiny?
If this story has officially blown your brain, drop:
“WETIN BE THIS WAHALA 🔥💦 EPISODE 4 NOWWW!”
Because Episode 4 will reveal how the truth changes everything... and how temptation doesn't care about family meetings.
Shall we continue? 😈
© Chidinma Lynda Abayomi
Ready for Episode 4?