Lahat ng Kabanata ng AM INLOVE WITH MY BROTHER : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Rihanna hears Jake's bike before she sees it. The sputter of the old Honda, then his voice calling her name over the street noise. She hasn’t been home in eight months. University in Ibadan felt far away until she stepped off the bus at Ojuelegba and the smell of Lagos — diesel, suya, rain on hot cement — hit her all at once.Jake looks the same, and not. He’s broader in the shoulders. There's a thin scar above his eyebrow from the accident last year that he brushed off on the phone. When he hugs her, she smells engine oil and the cheap soap Mom still buys."You added weight," he says, grabbing her bag. "Or is that all books?""Shut up. You still can’t cook," Rihanna shoots back, and it feels normal for half a second.Their flat in Yaba hasn’t changed. Same faded curtain Mom swears she’ll replace. Same crack in the living-room tile. Mom works night shifts at the hospital now, so it’s just the two of them till morning.They eat noodles at the small table. Jake talks with his mouth full

Rihanna wakes up with a crick in her neck and Jake’s hoodie halfway off her shoulder. He’s already up. She can hear him in the kitchen, cursing at the gas ring.The rain stopped in the night. Outside, the street is still a river of brown water and floating pure-water sachets. NEPA is back — the fan spins lazily above her head.She sits up slowly. The plates from last night are washed and stacked. On the table, Jake left half a bread loaf and a note torn from her notebook: _Gone to Oga. Don’t burn house. — J_She smiles before she can stop herself.Mom comes home at nine, eyes red, scrubs smelling of disinfectant. She hugs Rihanna hard, then goes straight to shower and sleep. "You two eat?""Yes ma.""Good. Wake me by three."The flat is quiet again. Rihanna tries to read. Marketing 302. The words slide off her brain. She keeps hearing the bucket from last night. _Plink. Plink._ Even though it’s gone now.Jake bursts in around two, soaked to his knees, grinning wide enough to show the

Jake doesn’t come back that night. Or the next.Mom notices on the second morning. She stands in the kitchen in her nightgown, holding the kettle like it’s heavy. "Where your brother?""David’s place," Rihanna says. It’s not a lie. "Near the shop. He said it’s easier for work."Mom frowns. "He no tell me.""He told me."Mom stares at her for too long. "Okay." Then she turns and puts the kettle on like nothing happened.The flat feels bigger without him. Quieter. The ceiling still drips when it rains but no one puts the bucket under it fast enough, so the tile stays wet. Rihanna steps in it barefoot and doesn’t even curse.She texts him: _you good?_ He reads it. No reply.On the third day David shows up. He’s Jake’s friend since secondary — thin, gold tooth, always smelling faintly of weed even when he swears he stopped. He comes with Jake’s dirty laundry in a nylon bag."Your brother say make I bring this," David says, dropping the bag by the door. He doesn’t come in."Where is he?""

Rihanna stops pretending in Chapter 8. Even to herself.It starts three days after she sends _I’m sorry_ and Jake doesn’t reply. She keeps her phone on, checks it every ten minutes, then hates herself for checking. By Friday she turns it off completely. If he wants to answer, he can wait.She sits through her 8am lecture without writing anything. The lecturer is talking about consumer behavior. Rihanna draws circles on the edge of her notebook. Inside one circle she writes _Jake_. She stares at it until the ink bleeds.After class Ada drags her to the cafeteria. "You dey sick? You look like ghost.""Just tired.""You get boyfriend for Lagos?" Ada grins. "That’s why you rush go back?"Rihanna almost laughs. Almost. "No."But the word sits in her mouth wrong. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? If Jake was just a boy from Lagos, she’d tell Ada everything — his smile, the scar, how he taps the table. Ada would squeal and ask for pictures.Instead she says nothing, because the truth wou

Jake doesn’t sleep that night. Not because he’s heartbroken — because his brain won’t shut up. He keeps seeing Mom’s face when Amaka showed the phone. Not angry. Just tired. Like she aged ten years in two seconds.He hates that more than shouting.At 6am he gets up, washes his face in the bucket. Water’s cold. His knuckles still hurt from punching the wall two days ago. He looks at his hand and thinks: _I’m disgusting._He turns the phone on. Rihanna didn’t text again. Just _Thank you._ That’s worse. He wanted her to beg or fight or something. Not _thank you_ like he gave her a favor.He types: _We can’t talk again._Deletes it.Types: _You should block me._Deletes it.Finally sends: _Don’t text Mom again._She replies after like five minutes: _I won’t._Then nothing else.He goes to work. Oga shouts because he forgot to tighten a bolt. Customer comes back yelling. Oga docks his pay for the day. Jake just nods. "Sorry sir." He used to argue. Now he doesn’t care.David finds him at lu