Hope

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

Sometimes, don’t stress yourself 😬🎥

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

I have a lot of “why” in this video

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01 He shouldn’t have anything to do with her anymore

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

I walked back down the steps, got into my car, and drove three hours home in the dark.

At 11pm, my phone rang.

Her name flashed on the screen.
I answered.

She was hyperventilating, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Where are you? Did you come here?”

I kept both hands on the steering wheel.

“I left your mom’s flowers by the door.”

She choked on her breath.

“Please let me explain. It’s not what you think. I was so broken, and he was just someone who listened without expecting me to be okay!”

I listened to her cry.

It was the same desperate cry she had when her mother died.

I said:
“You told me you were empty.”
“I was! I am!”
“No,” I told her quietly. “You weren't empty. You just wanted someone else to fill the space.”

She begged me to turn around and come back.

She said she would pack her bags immediately.

She said she still loved me.

I looked at the dark highway stretching out ahead of my headlights.

“Keep the cottage for the rest of the week,” I said. “You’ve already paid the price for it.”

I hung up and blocked the number.

Some people don't use their grief to heal.

They use it as an umbrella while they stand in the rain with someone else.

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

My fiancée lost her mother two weeks before our wedding.

We called off the ceremony.

I didn't care about the lost deposits. I took three weeks off work to sit with her in her mother’s empty house.

I cooked, I handled the funeral arrangements, and I made sure she ate at least one meal a day.

Her grief made her distant.

She stopped holding my hand. She slept facing the wall.

Whenever I tried to talk about our future, she would look away and say, “I’m just empty inside. I can't feel anything right now.”

I understood. Grief takes time.

Two months later, she told me she needed space to heal properly.

She wanted to spend a month alone in a small beach town three hours away.

“Just thirty days,” she said, crying into my shoulder. “I need to hear my own thoughts without feeling like I'm disappointing you every day.”

I paid for the $1,800 rental cottage.
I filled the fridge with groceries, kissed her forehead, and drove back home.

Every night, I sent a short message wishing her peace.

She rarely replied. When she did, it was usually two words: “Still trying.”

On day twenty-five, I wanted to surprise her.

I bought a pot of yellow lilies, her mother’s favorite flower, and drove the three hours down the coast.

I arrived around dusk.

Her rental car was in the gravel driveway.

Beside it was a black motorcycle I had never seen before.

I walked up the wooden porch steps. The front door was slightly open.

I heard music playing inside. Soft, acoustic music.

Then I heard laughter.

Not the polite chuckle she gave my jokes. It was that breathless, uninhibited laugh she used to make when we first fell in love.

I looked through the screen door.

She was standing in the kitchen wearing a man's oversized flannel shirt.

A guy with tattoos down his forearm was chopping onions beside her. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear, and kissed her bare shoulder.

She leaned back into him, smiling.

I stood there on the porch holding a pot of yellow lilies.

I didn't knock. I didn't kick the door in.

My chest felt entirely hollow, like someone had scooped out all the air inside me with a cold spoon.

I set the flower pot quietly beside the welcome mat.

Then I took my engagement ring out of my pocket, the ring she had handed back to me before leaving because she said “it felt too heavy while mourning.”

I placed the velvet box right on top of the soil, beside the stems.

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01 https://t.co/1n9Axi0pVe

[Ghe.Na🍃☂️ @Ghene_Valeria]

"Sleeping outside a cruise ship"📽

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

My coworker called me on a Saturday morning in tears.

He said his car broke down on the expressway and he had no money for the tow truck.

He needed $120.

I didn't have much in my checking account, but I sent it immediately.

On Monday, he walked into the office carrying a brand-new pair of running shoes.

I didn't say anything.

Two weeks went by. He never mentioned the $120.

Then on payday, I saw him at the cafeteria buying lunch for three interns.

He was laughing, telling jokes, acting like the most generous guy in the company.
When he sat near my desk, I tapped his shoulder.

“Hey, can you send that $120 today? Rent is coming up.”

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01 @CuteKatyaaa

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01 @CuteKatyaaa

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

Introvert + beauty + calm ❤️🎥

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

Melanin beauty is rear & cherished 🤎🎥

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01

[Hope @MsJennySkye]

@geezmedia01 @CuteKatyaaa

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

One grin alone will give you the best TGIF! Fr 🥰🎥

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

She looked at me with red, swollen eyes.
“You don't trust me? After everything we've built?”
I couldn't watch her break. I transferred the $8,000 to her personal account the next morning.
She kissed me, thanked me a hundred times, and said she was taking the money straight to her family to sort the debt out.
On Sunday night, my phone pinged.
It was an email. Then a message on WhatsApp from a number with no profile picture.
Attached were screenshots.
They were screenshots of my personal tax records, my private client invoices, and internal vendor receipts from my side supply business. Documents that weren't strictly audited yet, stuff that could easily get my small business flagged and shut down by the authorities if leaked.
Along with the files was a short message:
“Send $5,000 to this account tonight, or this entire folder goes directly to the internal revenue portal and your major corporate client.”
My hands turned cold.
Those documents were only stored in one place: an encrypted folder on my personal laptop at home.
Nobody had the password to that folder except one person. I had given it to her three months earlier so she could help me type some invoices while I was stuck on the road.
I called her phone immediately.
Busy.
I called again. It rang out, then she rejected the call.
A few minutes later, she sent a text:
“Don't bother calling. The people my brother owed already have the documents. They went through my phone when I paid them, and they found the folder on my cloud backup.”
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the screen.
“Your cloud backup? You uploaded my confidential tax files to your own drive?”
No reply.

[Geez Media @geezmedia01]

My girlfriend knew everything about my finances.
She knew I had been saving for nearly two years to buy a commercial delivery van for my logistics hustle. The money was sitting in an account only three people knew about: me, my bank, and her.
One Friday evening, she called me sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
I rushed to her house. She was sitting on the floor with her head between her knees, shaking.
She told me her brother had gotten mixed up in a bad debt with some very reckless people in the neighborhood. They were threatening to show up at her mother’s house by Monday morning if $10,000 wasn't paid.
Her mother had severe high blood pressure. Everyone in the family knew that any sudden shock or violence could literally kill the woman.
She knelt down in front of me, crying, holding my legs.
“Please. If anything happens to my mom, I won’t survive it. Just lend me the $8,000 from your savings. I will pay you back every single cent before the year ends, even if it means taking two jobs.”
I hesitated. That money was my entire future. It was the only thing standing between me and another five years of struggling on the streets.