When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.
We’ve all heard of crazy boyfriend or ex-boyfriend stories—I mean, when I was in college, it was a common sleepover story.
I’ve heard of the boyfriend who wanted to taste everything his girlfriend ate—before she did. And an ex-boyfriend who demanded that his ex-girlfriend help him study for finals because it was her fault that he wasn’t able to concentrate.
But I didn’t expect my relationship to turn into one of those stories.
I had been dating Henry for two years. We had met in college at a party and after a night of drunken conversation over fries, we ended up dating.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect—in fact, over the course of it, we had broken up three times.
“Come on, Kyra,” Henry said. “We either get back together or we break up for good.”
It was the defining moment in our relationship because Henry was the one who wanted to call the shots. He wanted us to stay together, and I wanted us to call it a day.
Over the years, Henry and I had gotten into enough fights, motivating me to turn to therapy to help me cope with the stress of it.
“And yet,” my friend Brent said, “you still remain with him.”
It was just another ordinary Friday evening and Henry had come over to my place. We were going to eat pizza and watch series until we fell asleep.
A few hours into the evening, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and I casually reached over to grab his phone to check the time.
But I was completely unprepared for everything that followed.
Just as I picked up Henry’s phone, his screen lit up with a text message from another girl.
Hey, babe! See you later or are we meeting tomorrow?
“Hey, who’s this?” I asked, nudging him awake and handing him the phone with a puzzled look.
Henry snatched the phone from my hand in a fury, his face clouding over.
“Kyra, why are you reading my messages?” he snapped, his tone defensive.
“I was just looking for the time,” I stammered. “My phone is on charge in the kitchen. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”
Henry stood up, took a swig of his now room-temperature beer, and paced around my living room.
“This is my private stuff, Kyra,” he accused. “You shouldn’t be looking at all.”
Before I could process what was happening, Henry began putting his shoes on, and then he made a final decision about our relationship.
“I think we’re done here. I can’t trust you anymore!”
And with that, he left my apartment.
Stunned, I watched him leave. We were over in the blink of an eye after two years.
I couldn’t understand if I felt relief or devastation. I would miss Henry, of course, but at the same time—I didn’t think that this was the worst thing.
Henry had been emotionally manipulating me for a long time, but I had felt a familiarity with him. And that had made it easier to stay with him.
It was the comfort of being with a familiar person, despite the heartache that came with them.
I could hear my mother’s words loud in my head.
“Kyra,” she would say, “You’re too smart to be playing a game like this. Let go of the dead weight. Henry has been nothing but dead weight since your first big fight.”
And she would be correct.
I decided to take a shower, I needed to lull my body into a sense of relaxation so that I could just let go and sleep.
And then it truly dawned on me—the reason for the breakup now was because I had caught Henry cheating on me. At first, I was too stunned. I was stunned by the fact that he had walked out on me.
But I finally managed to realize that he had actually been dating another woman. And had no idea how long it had been going on for.
The thought was too much for me to comprehend. I had so many questions running through my mind—how long had Henry been cheating on me? Who was the other person? What would have happened if I hadn’t found out?
The next few days were a complete blur—I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was untied to Henry. But at the same time, I felt hollow and a bit raw.
I found myself crying—not for Henry, but for myself. And through it all, I couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
While making a cup of tea, an email pinged on my laptop, signaling me to my desk.
It was from Henry.
Hoping for an apology, I opened it immediately—only to find a detailed bill listing every single expense that Henry claimed to have incurred on my behalf over the duration of our relationship.
Kyra, please make the payment soon. I need to move on, and you need to make things right with me. I cannot believe I wasted so much time and money on you.
I saw red—a hazy fury took over my sight. My head pounded, and my heart was ready to burst with the flood of feelings that were unleashed by Henry’s email.
“This is insane!” I screamed at the screen.
I shut off my laptop and made myself some soup. Henry and his delusional state of mind could wait. I wasn’t going to pay anything back. I was done with him.
As I cut up some garlic bread, I had an idea.
My friend, Brent, who hated Henry—was a lawyer and he loved a challenge.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, calling him while I waited for the soup to get ready. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with Henry, and I think I need to hit back with something clever.”
Brent was intrigued. He chuckled and asked me to explain.
“Tell me everything, Kyra,” he said.
The next day, I met Brent at a coffee shop, where we planned on thinking up the next step where I could get back at Henry.
Brent ordered us coffee and pastries, while I pulled up the email from Henry.
As we laid out his claims against my emotional tolls—the late-night anxiety, the therapy costs—he burst out laughing.
“This is actually genius. Let’s draft up a counter-invoice.”
Our response was meticulously calculated, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction sending it back to him.
This inspired me to start a blog about my journey of recovery and empowerment. To my surprise, the blog resonated with many, and soon, a publisher reached out with an interest in turning my experiences into a book.
On the other hand, Henry’s pursuit for repayment dwindled, especially once he realized the potential public fallout and legal ramifications.
“I cannot believe that you did that, Kyra,” Henry said. “People are messaging me constantly now. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why would you post the invoice I sent you? You owe me!”
I sat in front of the TV and let Henry vent on speaker.
I had absolutely no intention of explaining myself. My blog did expose him—and sure, I did post the invoice. But it was my way of healing through the entire ordeal.
But as always, Henry had to make it about himself. He commented on some of the blog posts, stating that I was yet to pay him for everything.
In reply, other readers let him have it—calling him out on his selfishness.
When Brent came over for dinner, he sat down and chuckled.
“Looks like Henry got the message,” Brent said. “He has dropped all demands. It seems like he just didn’t want to risk any further exposure.”
In the end, not only did I manage to counter his pettiness with strength, but I also carved out a new path for myself.
This wasn’t just about a breakup recovery—it was a rebirth.
What would you have done?
We settled into a house that had previously been owned by a man who had passed away, and a dog visited us daily. One day, I decided to follow it
When Maggie moves into a new house with her son, Ethan, and husband, Kyle, she is more than ready for a new start. Her son needed fresh scenery and a new school, and Maggie just wanted him to be happy. But one day, a husky wanders into their yard, eating their food and growing close to Ethan. Soon after, the husky leads Maggie and Ethan into the woods, ready to show them something devastating…
When we moved into our new house, I had a good feeling. It was a new chapter in our lives, and I was more than ready for it. Kyle, my husband, and I were excited to give our son, Ethan, a fresh start. He had recently gone through a bullying experience at school, and we all wanted to just put it behind us.
The house had belonged to an older man named Christopher, who’d passed away recently. His daughter, a woman in her forties, sold it to us, telling us that it was too painful to keep and that she hadn’t even lived in it since her father’s death.
“There’s too many memories in there, you know?” she told me when we first met to walk through the house. “And I don’t want it to get into the wrong hands. I want it to be a home to a family who will love it as much as my family did.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Tracy,” I said reassuringly. “We’ll make this house into our forever home.”
We were eager to settle in, but from the first day, something strange happened. Every morning, a husky would show up at our front door. He was an old dog, with graying fur and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you.
The sweet boy didn’t bark or make a fuss. He would just sit there, waiting. Of course, we gave him some food and water, figuring that he belonged to a neighbor. After eating, he’d wander off like it was routine.
“Do you think his owners just don’t feed him enough, Mom?” Ethan asked one day when we were at the grocery store getting our weekly groceries and food for the husky, too.
“I don’t know, E,” I said. “Maybe the old man who lived in our house fed him, so it’s part of his routine?”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Ethan said, adding some dog treats to our cart.
At first, we didn’t think much of it. Kyle and I wanted to get Ethan a dog; we just wanted to wait until he was settled down at his new school first.
But then, he came the next day. And the day after that. Always at the same time, always sitting patiently by the porch.
It felt like the husky wasn’t just any stray. He acted like he belonged here. Like we were just temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t think much of it.
Ethan was over the moon. And I knew that my son was slowly falling in love with the husky. He spent as much time as he could running around with the dog, tossing sticks for him, or sitting on the porch, talking to him like they’d known each other forever.
I would watch from the kitchen window, smiling at the way Ethan had immediately bonded with this mysterious dog.
It was exactly what Ethan needed after everything he had been through at his old school.
One morning, while petting him, Ethan’s fingers traced the dog’s collar.
“Mom, there’s a name here!” he called out.
I came over and knelt down next to the dog, brushing away some of the fur covering the worn leather collar on him. The name was barely visible, but there it was:
Christopher Jr.
My heart skipped a beat.
Was it just a coincidence?
Christopher, just like the man who had owned our house? Could this husky have been his dog? The thought sent a chill down my spine. Tracy hadn’t mentioned anything about a dog.
“Do you think he’s been coming here because it used to be his home?” Ethan asked, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I shrugged, feeling a little unsettled.
“Maybe, sweetheart. But it’s hard to say.”
At the same time, it felt like the husky wasn’t just any stray. He acted like he belonged here. Like we were just temporary guests in his home. It was strange, but we didn’t think much of it.
Later that day, after Christopher Jr. had eaten, he began to act strange.
He whined softly, pacing back and forth near the edge of the yard, his eyes darting toward the woods. He had never done that before. But now, it was almost like he was asking us to follow him.
The dog stopped and stared straight ahead, and that’s when I saw it.
“Mom, I think he wants us to go with him!” Ethan said excitedly, already pulling on his jacket.
I hesitated.
“Darling, I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”
“Come on, Mom!” Ethan said. “We’ve got to see where he’s going and what’s going on. We’ll take our phones and I’ll text Dad so that he knows. Please?”
I didn’t want to do it, but I was curious. There was something about the dog’s urgency that made me think that this was more than just a random walk in the woods.
So, we followed.
The husky led the way, glancing back at us every so often to make sure we were still there. The air was crisp, and the woods were quiet, except for the occasional snap of a twig under our boots.
“You’re still sure about this?” I asked Ethan.
“Yes!” he said excitedly. “Dad has our location, don’t worry, Mom.”
We walked for about twenty minutes, deeper and deeper into the forest. Deeper than I’d ever been before. I was just about to suggest turning back when the husky stopped abruptly at a small clearing.
The dog stopped and stared straight ahead, and that’s when I saw it.
There was a pregnant fox, trapped in a hunter’s snare, barely moving at all.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, rushing toward the fox.
She was weak, her breathing shallow, her fur matted with dirt. The trap had dug into her leg, and she was trembling with pain.
“Mom, we’ve got to help her!” Ethan said, his voice shaking. “Look at her, she’s hurt!”
“I know, I know,” I said, my hands fumbling to free her from the cruel trap. The husky stood close, whining softly as if he understood the fox’s pain.
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to loosen the trap. The fox didn’t move at first. She just lay there, panting heavily.
“We have to get her to the vet immediately, E,” I said, pulling out my phone to call Kyle.
When Kyle arrived, we gently wrapped the fox in a blanket that he brought and rushed her to the nearest vet clinic. The husky, of course, came with us.
It felt like he wasn’t going to leave the fox, not after all of this.
The vet said that the fox needed surgery, and we waited nervously in the small, sterile room. Ethan was quiet, sitting next to the husky, his hands resting on the dog’s thick fur.
“You think she’ll make it, Mom?” Ethan asked.
“I hope so, honey,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “She’s tough. And we did everything we could.”
The surgery was successful, but when the fox woke up, she was howling, her cries echoing through the clinic.
The vet couldn’t calm her down, and neither could Kyle. But when I walked into the room, she stopped. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she let out one last soft whimper before falling silent.
“It’s like she knows you helped her,” the vet said.
We went back for her two days later, and brought her home. We set her up in a small den in the garage where she could rest and recover. CJ, the husky, as Ethan had taken to calling him, stayed with Vixen the fox the entire time.
A few days later, she gave birth to four tiny kits. It was truly the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. And she let me be a part of it.
“She only lets us near her babies,” Ethan told me one day when we went to check on Vixen and the babies. “She trusts us.”
I nodded and smiled.
“And the dog too,” I added. “Little CJ seems to be right at home with us.”
When the babies were old enough, Kyle and I knew it was time to let them go. We built a proper den for them back in the forest and watched as Vixen disappeared into it with her babies.
Now, every weekend, Ethan, CJ, and I walk to the forest to visit them. The fox always comes out to greet us, her kits trailing behind her, just as curious as ever.
What would you have done?
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