The first time Rose met Jeffery, he was balancing three plastic bags in his arms, one of which had already given way beneath the weight of canned goods and tumbled to the floor.
She had just exited a local bookstore, where she went to get a book titled “Grammar” so she could prepare for her upcoming project on public speaking in Fredric university, humming to herself when a can of baked beans.
Rolled to her feet.
"Oh, shoot," he muttered, kneeling to gather the scattered items. His fingers brushed hers as she reached for the can.
"Let me help you," she said without hesitation.
Jeffery looked up; his brown eyes warm with gratitude and just the tiniest bit of embarrassment. "Thanks. These bags always seem to betray me at the worst times." She laughed. "Maybe it’s the universe telling you to invest in a backpack."
That was how it began—an awkward, humble exchange that led to coffee, then long walks, and eventually, heart-to-heart under city streetlamps. Jeffery was not a man of wealth, but he was rich in kindness. He listened. He remembered things. He made Rose feel seen. They dated for three years, years filled with struggle and sweetness. Jeffery worked two jobs, carpenter by day, warehouse loader by night, just to keep afloat. Rose was still in
University, studying English and mass communication. She did not drop her music life because of school. She carried music along and performed at open mics whenever she could. Jeffery never
missed a show.
He'd bring her hot tea afterward, sometimes bought with the last few vistas in his wallet. "You were amazing tonight," he'd whisper as he wrapped his arms around her. "One day, they’ll all know your name."
She believed him.
And yet, beneath the surface, fear began to creep in. Not because of anything Jeffery did, but because of everything he couldn't do. Rose had grown up in poverty, watching her Mother beg for food, seeing her mother work herself to the bone only to come home tired and broken. Her father was never the supportive husband, not because he chose not to be supportive. He was also a carpenter, and he never paid his children’s school fees. He never knew how much his children’s school fees cost. His wife, Hauwa, was the provider of the family, not because he was a careless father, but because no matter how hard he tried, there was never a good result. The day his wife doesn’t have to give the family, the family would have to go hungry or go without school fees.
She remembered the nights her mother cried herself to sleep, hungry, scared, and trapped. And she remembered swearing to herself that she would never live that life again.
Jeffery was nothing like her father in looks. But in these circumstances? Too close.
She never wanted to be like her mother, who believed in being a carpenter and ended up being the one who took the weight of the whole family on her shoulders.
The final straw came one rainy evening when she visited Jeffery’s tiny apartment. The roof had started leaking again. There was a bucket in the middle of the floor catching droplets. He was cooking noodles again. He smiled when he saw her.
"It’s not much, but I made your favorite."
She smiled back, but her heart cracked. Not because he was poor, but because she was tired of being afraid of a future she had no control over.
A week later, she ended things.
Jeffery tried to beg. He tried everything he could to win her back. “Rose, what did i do to you?" He kept asking that question repeatedly but got no reasonable answer from Rose, "If one day you change your mind, I’ll still be
here. I just want you to be happy, Rose," Jeffry said to Rose as he finally decided to let go. She cried more than she expected to. And as she walked away, she didn’t feel free.
She felt like she had just betrayed the only man who ever truly loved her without conditions. But life doesn’t wait for hearts to mend. It moves on.
So did she.