The Scented Note

 

Jacob

Jacob grew up in a modest neighborhood on the outskirts of a sprawling city. He was a timid boy, honest to a fault—never seeking trouble, never even dreaming of anything illegal or confrontational. His family was middle-class: his father a health officer, his mother a nurse. They weren't wealthy, but they were comfortable. Jacob was the third child in a family of four.

From a young age, he dreaded school. Reading and writing felt impossible; books were nothing but jargon. One day, their teacher assigned a letter-writing exercise: boys to girls they admired, and vice versa.

Jacob froze, pen in hand, staring at blank paper. He craned his neck toward his seatmate, Mary, hoping to glimpse her words.

"Mind your own business—don't copy!" Mary snapped, shielding her notebook.

A tap on his shoulder made him spin around. It was Thelma.

She was the most beautiful girl in class, and the smartest. Jacob had always admired her from afar, daydreaming about a future together. Her friend Eka was brilliant and pretty too, but Thelma was unmatched. Her eyes pulled him in like a current.

"Yes?" he stammered.

She handed him a folded, scented note. "Take this. Find someone to read it for you," she whispered, shyly smiling before hurrying away.

Jacob tucked it into his bag, grinning. Of all the girls, Thelma had chosen him. He rushed home and thrust the note at his older brother, Samuel.

"Sammy, read this for me?"

"Sure. Who's it from?"

"Thelma—my classmate."

Samuel sniffed the paper and smirked. "Got a girlfriend now?"

"No! It was an assignment. She sent me one."

"Alright, let's see." He unfolded it and read aloud:

Dear Jacob,

It's nice to write to you. I'm glad for this chance. I've noticed you, but I didn't know how to say it.

I like you. You're humble and kind, with a beautiful heart. I'd love to be part of your story. My friend Eka likes you too and wants to join.

Thank you.

Yours faithfully,

Thelma

P.S. Please reply.

Jacob snatched it back, beaming. Samuel teased him mercilessly, but Jacob ignored it. He grabbed fresh paper. "Help me write a reply?"

"That'll cost you," Samuel said.

"I'm your brother!"

"Then learn to read and write yourself."

Defeated, Jacob sighed. "How much?"

"A hundred bucks."

"I only get twenty a day for lunch."

"Not my problem. Start with that."

"Fine."

Samuel scribbled a quick note:

Dear Thelma,

Thank you for your kind words. I accept.

Yours faithfully,

Jacob

"But that's so short," Jacob complained.

"It'll do. Take it or write your own." Samuel stormed off. "And payment starts tomorrow."

The next day, Jacob slipped the note to Thelma after school and bolted, too nervous to see her face.

At home, chaos awaited. Suitcases everywhere. "Dad, why are we packing?"

"Sorry, son. Sudden transfer. We're moving."

"But my school?"

"You'll start fresh there."

Jacob's world crumbled. Behind his father, Samuel laughed. Tears streamed down Jacob's face. Would he ever see Thelma again?

That was ten years ago. Now fresh from college, Jacob hunted for work. He often sat alone, staring at the sky, lost in memories of Thelma. Was she married? The thought pierced him, but he pushed it away, focusing on survival.

He landed a data entry job at a telecommunications firm. His boss was a billionaire—or so rumors said. Colleagues whispered that hard work paid off. Jacob poured himself into it, bleeding effort for two years.

But the boss squandered fortunes on prostitutes and nightclubs, ignoring his staff. Disillusioned, Jacob started side hustles. They paid off.

Promoted to branch manager, he thrived. Money flowed—more from deals than salary. He could have anything, anyone.

Then his boss visited. "Good morning, Jacob. Everything fine?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bad news. I'm shutting down the company."

"What?" Jacob's heart raced—had his deals been discovered? Sweat beaded despite the AC.

"The government backed out of our deal." The boss shrugged. "Sorry. Pack up, hand keys to security."

Jacob nodded numbly, mind reeling. In this economy—inflation skyrocketing—jobs were myths.

Two years later, he pounded pavements with a brown folder of resumes. Millions competed for scraps; bribes decided hires. Savings dwindled. He was grateful to be single—no family to feed. Others weren't so lucky.

Emerging from another rejection, he collided with a woman stepping from a Range Rover. His foot landed on hers.

"I'm so sorry—I wasn't looking. Please forgive me."

"It's nothing," she said kindly.

"I should go. Might miss an opportunity." He gestured to his folder.

"Job hunting?"

"Yeah. No vacancies. Thousands apply for one spot."

"That's awful. I'm new here—meeting my husband."

"Name's Jacob."

"Jacob... that's familiar. I knew a Jacob in elementary school."

He studied her: beautiful, that smile, those eyes. Recognition hit like lightning.

"Thelma!"

"Jacob? Oh my God!"

"What happened after I left?"

"Long story. Lunch? My treat."

"I can't afford—"

"Come on."

She led him to a upscale spot. He ordered heartily—he was starving. Over the meal, he poured out his decade: the move, the job, the betrayal, the fall.

"Did you forget me?" she asked softly.

"Never. Not a day."

"Why?"

"I loved you even before the letter."

"And now?"

"I'll never stop."

She hesitated. "I'm married, Jacob."

His voice cracked. "I've wept knowing another man has you."

"Give me your papers. I can help."

"How?"

"My husband is the minister."

Speechless, he handed them over.

"We'll talk soon." She left.

Jacob watched her go, heart aching yet hopeful. Some stories, he realized, never truly end.

Thelma wept as she walked away, clutching Jacob’s folder of credentials. How could life be so cruel to both of them? She had married the minister, but her heart had always belonged to Jacob. Now that he was back, she wondered: Was this a sign from above that true love never fades?

She took the folder to her husband—older, wealthy, and married to her only for her beauty.

“What is it?” he asked as she handed it over.

“A friend’s credentials. He needs a job.”

“Do I look like a job giver?” he snapped.

“Come on, Chris. Don’t be like this. We go back to elementary school—he really needs this.”

Chris sighed, took the folder, and flipped it open. After a glance, he said, “Give it to my secretary. She’ll handle it.”

“Thank you,” Thelma said, standing to leave.

He caught her hand. “Don’t let me down.”

“I wouldn’t. Thank you—truly.”

That was how Jacob became a Laboratory Technician at a government hospital. With the salary and staff quarters, his life began to stabilize. The only thing missing was a wife.

When he mentioned it to Thelma, she told him to wait.

“But why?” he asked one day.

“Time will tell,” she replied, dodging the question.

Then, one afternoon in his modest flat, she said, “I’m getting a divorce.”

Jacob—ever respectful, never having touched her despite her signals—froze. “Why?”

“Because I want to be with you, you fool,” she laughed.

“You know I can’t give you what the minister does.”

“I don’t care. You’re all I need. And you have a job now. We’ll build from here.”

“Are you sure?” His voice trembled.

“Completely.”

“Will he agree?”

“He’s polygamous—I’m not his only wife. He’s been thinking of divorcing one of us anyway. I just made it easy.”

Three months later, the divorce was final. The minister barely contested it. In confidence, he admitted he wanted a younger wife and had been planning to let one go. As a reward for her cooperation, he gifted Thelma a house and ten million dollars.

That was how Jacob reclaimed his love. On their wedding day, he wept openly. Guests whispered, puzzled by a groom’s tears. Jacob looked to the heavens and prayed aloud:

“Thank You, Lord, for these mercies You have granted me. Thank You for this second chance. I will praise Your name until the end of my days. Amen.”

The End