My ex-husband once told me, “It’s just harmless fun.” That’s what he called his infidelity. But when he ripped the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have some fun — with him.
Do you believe in karma? Like, honestly, I used to think it was just something people said to make themselves feel better after someone hurt them. They’d say things like: “Don’t worry, karma will get them.”
Yeah, right. But let me tell you, karma is real. And in my case? She had a WICKED sense of humor.
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
Let me set the stage for you. My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight years. Eight long years where I thought we had something solid — a house we worked on together, two beautiful kids, and a life that, while not perfect, felt like ours.
But as it turns out, I was the only one in that marriage who believed in “ours.” And I should’ve seen the red flags.
Because the night I discovered Dan’s infidelity is seared into my memory.
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
Our daughter Emma had been sick with a fever, and I was rummaging through Dan’s drawer for the children’s medicine he always kept there. Instead, I found his phone.
I wasn’t trying to snoop, but a notification that flashed across the screen grabbed my attention: a heart emoji followed by ‘I love you!’
I couldn’t stop myself from opening it and my heart cracked when I found dozens of intimate text exchanges between my husband and a woman named “Jessica.”
A shocked woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
“How could you?” I whispered that night, my hands shaking as I confronted him. “Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?”
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “It just happened,’ he said with a shrug, as if we were discussing the weather. “These things happen in marriages. It was just some harmless fun with my secretary, Jessica. It won’t happen again, honey. Never! I’m sorry. Trust me.”
“These things happen? No, Dan. They don’t JUST HAPPEN. You made choices. Every single time.”
An annoyed man shrugging | Source: Midjourney
The first time, I did what so many of us do — I convinced myself it was a mistake and a lapse in judgment. I thought we could fix it. I told myself that forgiveness was the strong thing to do. But the second time? Oh, the second time SHATTERED whatever illusions I had left.
“I thought we could work through this,” I said as I held up the evidence of his second betrayal — red lipstick stain on his collar. The irony? I hated red lipstick and never wore them.
“I thought you meant it when you said ‘never’ again.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, his tone almost bored. “That I’m sorry? Would that make you feel better?”
That was the moment something inside me snapped. “No! I want you to pack your bags.”
An angry woman engaged in a heated argument | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before Dan could even stammer out another pathetic excuse.
The divorce itself was as brutal as you’d imagine.
But here’s the thing: the house wasn’t up for grabs. It was mine, passed down from my grandmother long before Dan entered the picture.
A picturesque house with a breathtaking garden | Source: Midjourney
“This is ridiculous!” Dan had shouted during one of our mediation sessions. “I’ve lived in that house for eight years. I’ve put money into it!”
“And it’s still my grandmother’s house,” I replied calmly, watching him fume. “The deed is in my name, Dan. It always has been.”
Legally, there was no argument. Dan, on the other hand, insisted on splitting everything else 50/50, just as we always had in our marriage. Groceries, vacations, furniture — you name it, he demanded fairness to the penny.
A woman arguing with someone | Source: Midjourney
And then came the moment that broke my heart more than any of his infidelities. We were discussing custody arrangements when Dan looked at our lawyer and without a hint of emotion, said, “She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility of raising the kids.”
Our children, Emma and Jack, were in the next room. My precious babies, who deserved so much better than a father who saw them as a burden.
“They’re your children,” I hissed across the table. “How can you just —”
“They’re better off with you anyway,” he cut me off. “You’ve always been the one good at all that nurturing stuff.”
A man staring grimly | Source: Midjourney
After the paperwork was signed, Dan asked for a week to pack his things and leave. He claimed he needed the time to “sort everything out.” To give him the space and to spare the kids from any awkward encounters, I took them to my mom’s for the week.
The night before we left, Emma clutched her favorite stuffed rabbit and asked, “Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?”
I held her close, fighting back tears. How do you explain to a six-year-old what a divorce means, or why her family was breaking apart?
“Sometimes, sweetheart, grown-ups need some time apart to figure things out,” I said.
A sad little girl holding a stuffed rabbit | Source: Midjourney
“But will he miss us?” Jack, my eight-year-old, asked from the doorway.
“Of course he will,” I lied, my heart breaking all over again. “Of course he will.”
I figured it was the least I could do.
When the week was up, I returned home with the kids, ready to start our new chapter. But what I walked into was nothing short of a nightmare.
The wallpaper — the gorgeous floral wallpaper — was GONE.
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
The living room walls, once covered in beautiful floral paper we’d picked out together, were stripped bare. Jagged patches of drywall peeked through, like the house had been skinned alive. My stomach sank as I followed the destruction trail to the kitchen.
And there he was — Dan— tearing off another strip of wallpaper like a man possessed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
He turned around, completely unfazed. “I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
“Dan,” I finally managed. “You’re ripping apart the house your kids live in.”
A man ripping a floral wallpaper | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” Jack’s voice trembled. “Why is Dad doing that to our walls?”
He burst into tears. “I loved the flowers! They were pretty! Why are you tearing the wallpaper, Daddy?”
I knelt down to their level, trying to shield them from the sight of their father methodically destroying our home. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We can pick out new wallpaper together. Something even prettier. Would you like that?”
A little boy crying | Source: Pexels
“But why is he taking it?” Emma hiccupped between sobs.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t hurt them even more. I shot Dan a look sharp enough to wither him.
He simply shrugged and said, “I paid for it. And I have all the right to destroy it!”
A man turning around while removing a wallpaper | Source: Midjourney
As Dan continued to rip the walllpaper, I noticed the kids peeking around the corner, their little faces confused and scared. My heart broke for them. I didn’t want this to be the memory they carried of their father in this house.
So I took a deep breath and said, “Fine. Do what you want.” Then I ushered the kids back to the car and left.
When I returned later that evening, it was even worse than I’d expected.
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
Dan had gone full petty. The kitchen was stripped of utensils, the toaster, and even the coffee maker. He’d even taken all the toilet paper from the bathrooms… and practically everything he’d bought with his OWN MONEY.
“You’re UNBELIEVABLE!” I muttered.
It was maddening. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin.
A man holding a toilet paper roll | Source: Unsplash
A month later, I joined a book club. At first, it was just a way to get out of the house and feel like myself again. But the women there quickly became my support system.
One night, after a couple of glasses of wine, I spilled the wallpaper story. I described every absurd detail, from the stripped walls to the missing toilet paper.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie, one of the women, choked out between laughs.
“Yes!” I said, laughing despite myself. “I can’t believe I married someone so ridiculous that I don’t even feel like uttering his name.”
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
“Girl,” Cassie said, wiping tears from her eyes, “you dodged a bullet. Who does that? A grown man ripping wallpaper off walls? He sounds like an overgrown toddler. Gosh, please don’t reveal his name or we’d start despising every man with that name!”
The whole table erupted into laughter. It was cathartic. It was the first time I’d really laughed about the whole mess.
“You know what the worst part was?” I confided to the group, my wine glass nearly empty. “Trying to explain it to the kids. How do you tell your children their father cares more about wallpaper than their happiness?”
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
Betty, another book club member, reached across and squeezed my hand. “Children are resilient. They’ll remember who stayed and who put them first. That’s what matters.”
“I hope so,” I whispered, thinking of Emma’s tears and Jack’s confusion. “God, I hope so.”
Little did I know, karma was just getting started.
Six months passed. Life settled into a new normal. The kids were thriving, and I’d put the chaos of the divorce behind me. Dan barely crossed my mind — until the day he called me out of nowhere.
A man making a phonecall | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” he said, his tone smug. “I thought you should know — I’m getting married next month. Some women actually want to be with me. And I found a gorgeous bombshell!”
“Congratulations,” I said, keeping my voice even. Then I hung up.
I thought that would be the end of it. But a few weeks later, I was walking downtown, enjoying a rare solo outing, when I spotted Dan across the street. He was holding hands with a woman.
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I figured it was his fiancée and kept walking. But then, they crossed the street and walked straight toward me.
As they got closer, my stomach DROPPED. The woman was CASSIE— my friend from the book club.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Oh my gosh, hey!” she said, tugging Dan toward me. “This is such a small world! I have so much to tell you! I’m engaged! This is my fiancé, his name is…”
I forced a tight smile. “Yeah, DAN! I know.”
A shocked woman standing on the road | Source: Midjourney
Cassie blinked, her smile faltering. “Wait… you know each other?”
Dan looked like he wanted to disappear. His grip on her hand tightened, and his jaw clenched.
“Oh, we go way back,” I said casually.
Cassie’s eyes darted between us, confusion turning to suspicion. “What do you mean, ‘go way back’? How do you know each other? Dan, do you… know her?”
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
Dan let out a nervous laugh. “Cassie, it’s not important —”
“Oh, yeah! Not that important. He’s just my ex-husband,” I said bluntly, cutting him off.
Cassie’s face froze, and then realization dawned. “Wait a second,” she said slowly. “That story you told at the book club… the one about the wallpaper? About that freaking guy? Is that… him?”
Her words hung in the air. And Dan’s panicked expression said it all.
A nervous man standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
Cassie turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Oh my God… that was YOU?”
“Cassie, it’s not what you think —” Dan pleaded.
“It’s exactly what I think,” she snapped. “You ripped wallpaper off the walls of your kids’ home because you bought it? Who does that?”
A furious woman yelling at a man | Source: Midjourney
“It was a long time ago,” Dan stammered. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Cassie hissed, pulling her hand away. “And what about the lies? The evil ex-wife who took your kids to another country? That she cheated on you? You’re unbelievable, Dan. You liar!”
She turned to me, her expression softening. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I had no idea.”
A heartbroken woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, Cassie whirled back to Dan. “You’re a walking red flag. I can’t believe I almost married you.”
And just like that, she stormed off, leaving Dan standing there, dumbstruck, and staring at the engagement ring she’d just flung at him.
He glanced at me, his face a thundercloud of anger and desperation. I just smiled faintly and walked away. This DAMAGE was more than enough!
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
That evening, as I tucked the kids into bed, Jack asked me something that made my heart swell.
“Mom, remember when Dad took all the wallpaper?”
I tensed, waiting for the pain in his voice. Instead, he surprised me.
“I’m glad we got to pick out the new ones together,” he said, smiling. “The dinosaurs in my room are way cooler than those old flowers. Daddy can keep that wallpaper to himself!”
Emma nodded enthusiastically from her bed. “And my butterflies! They’re the prettiest ever!”
A stunning kids’ room with gorgeous wallpaper and stuffed toys | Source: Midjourney
I looked around at our colorful walls, now covered in papers we’d chosen together, as a family of three. Walls that told our new story, not the one Dan had tried to strip away.
“You know what?” I said, pulling them both close. “I think so too.”
That day, I learned an important lesson: sometimes, you don’t need to chase revenge. Just give karma a little time, and it’ll serve justice with a side of poetic irony.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Family Turned Against Me When I Became a Private Detective, but a Teen Girl’s Case Changed Everything — Story of the Day
My family turned their backs on me when I left journalism to become a private detective. They saw it as a disgrace, and I started to wonder if they were right. No clients, no money, just regrets. But then a teenage girl walked into my office, searching for her mother—and her case changed everything.
I was sitting in my small, dimly lit office, sorting through the week’s mail. Bills, bills, bills, advertisements, more bills. The usual.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I let out a heavy sigh and set the letters aside, covering my face with my hands.
I used to be a journalist—a successful one, I must say—but I always felt like it wasn’t enough.
Stories were always unfinished, truths half-exposed, and justice left waiting. So, at 42, I quit my job and decided to become a private detective.
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It was something that truly interested me, something I had always wanted to do.
My family didn’t support me. They tried to talk me out of it, but when they realized my mind was made up, they turned their backs on me.
My husband finally had a reason to leave me for a younger woman—one with shinier hair, fewer wrinkles, and, I assumed, fewer opinions.
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And my daughter? She cut me out of her life completely. She saw being a private detective as disgraceful—especially when compared to the prestige of journalism.
Of course, it hurt. But the longer I worked as a private detective, the more I started to wonder if they had been right.
I hadn’t had a new client in nearly three months, and I had plenty of debt. People didn’t believe in a female private investigator.
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Men were assumed to be better at solving cases—stronger, sharper, tougher. As if intuition, patience, and persistence didn’t count.
Suddenly, even surprisingly, I heard a hesitant knock at the door. I straightened up, quickly smoothing my hair and shoving the pile of bills into a drawer.
“Come in!” I called out.
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The doorknob turned slowly, and the door creaked open. A girl, about fifteen, stepped inside.
She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her clothes were too small—cheap, second-hand, sleeves of her sweater jagged as if they’d been cut off.
“How can I help you?” I asked, motioning to the chair across from my desk.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She sat down carefully, pulling her sleeves over her hands, her long, unkempt hair kept falling into her face. She brushed it away absently, over and over.
One thing was clear—she didn’t have a mother. I had taught my daughter how to braid her hair when she was six. This girl had no idea what to do with hers.
“My name is Emily,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m an orphan. I need your help to find my mother.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I studied her face. She looked nervous, but her eyes held something else—determination.
“She gave you up?” I asked.
Emily nodded. “Yes. I don’t know anything about her. Not her name, not what she looks like. Nothing.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She swallowed hard. “I’m fifteen now. No one is going to adopt me at this point. But I want to find her. I just want to see her. I need to understand why she left me.”
Her words stung. No child should feel unwanted. No child should wonder why they weren’t enough.
“I’ll need something to go on,” I said, reaching for my notebook.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Emily sat up straighter. “I was born in this town. I’ve never moved, never been sent anywhere else.” She took a breath. “My birthday is February 15, 2009.”
I jotted it down.
“Is that enough?” she asked, her fingers gripping the edge of her sweater.
“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated, then pulled a few crumpled bills from her pocket. “I have some money, but not much.”
It wasn’t even close to what I needed, but that didn’t matter.
“If I find her, then you can pay me,” I said.
Her lips trembled. “Thank you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She stood to leave.
“Wait. How can I find you?” I asked.
She scribbled an address and handed it to me. “My foster home. I’ll be there.”
I nodded, and she walked out.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I wasted no time. It had been a long time since I had worked on a real case.
Even though I knew I wouldn’t make any money from this one—I couldn’t, in good conscience, take money from an orphan—it still felt good to have a purpose.
The first place I went was the hospital. Our town had only one, which made things easier.
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If Emily’s mother had given birth there, the records would be somewhere inside.
One advantage of my former job was that I had connections everywhere. The hospital was no exception.
I knew exactly who to talk to—Camilla. She had been a nurse for years, and we had met back when I was covering a story about harassment in hospitals.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She had been a source then. Since that day, she’d been a friend. As soon as she spotted me, she put down her clipboard and grinned.
“Sara!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “What brings you here? Please don’t say trouble.”
“I need your help,” I said, leaning in slightly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do. You never just stop by to visit an old friend, do you?”
I crossed my arms. “You were literally at my house for dinner last week.”
She smirked. “Fine. What do you need?”
“Birth records. February 15, 2009.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She blinked. “That’s specific. Should I be worried?”
“Nothing illegal. I just need to find a name.”
Camilla folded her arms. “That’s doable, but make it fast.”
I hesitated. “The baby was given up, probably in secret.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her expression changed. “Sara, you know I can’t just hand you confidential records.”
“Please,” I said. “Just a quick look. No one will even notice.”
She studied me, then sighed. “You have ten minutes.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I owe you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She rolled her eyes. “You owe me for life.”
She led me through a narrow hallway to the hospital archives. The air smelled of dust and old paper.
Camilla pulled out a thick folder labeled 2009 – Abandoned Newborns and handed it to me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Be quick,” she whispered.
I flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling. February 15. My eyes locked on the mother’s name. My breath caught.
No. This couldn’t be real.
I shoved the file back and hurried out.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Camilla stood by the door. “Sara, you’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” I muttered, pushing past her. I needed air.
I stood outside a house I had never seen before. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me.
Emily’s case had become the hardest of my career. Too personal. Too close.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the door. My hands felt numb. I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell.
I took a breath and reached for the doorbell. My hand hovered over it. I could still turn around, pretend I never came. But that wasn’t an option. Not for Emily.
I pressed the button. The chime echoed inside. Footsteps approached.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The door opened, and I saw her.
Her face paled. Her lips parted in shock. “Mom?”
I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight. “Hi.”
Meredith blinked. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear—I don’t want to see you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come if this were about me.”
Her eyes darkened. “Then why are you here?”
I took a deep breath. “For your daughter.”
The color drained from her face. Her whole body tensed. “How… how did you—” She couldn’t finish.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her breath hitched. Tears filled her eyes. Then, without a word, she stepped aside and let me in.
The kitchen was small but neat. She moved stiffly, as if her body wasn’t sure what to do. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
I stayed standing for a moment, then sat across from her. Silence filled the space between us.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Her name is Emily, if you’re wondering,” I said. “No one ever adopted her. She’s been living with foster families. She came to me to find her mother, but I never imagined—”
Meredith squeezed her hands together. “Please stop,” she whispered.
I waited.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I have regretted it my whole life,” she said, her voice breaking. “I tried to forget. I told myself it was the best thing. That she’d have a better life without me. And now you show up out of nowhere to remind me what a terrible person I am.”
“You’re not terrible. You were a child yourself when she was born. I just don’t understand how you hid it. How did your father and I not know?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I wore loose clothes. My belly wasn’t that big. And I planned to give birth in another town, but you and Dad went abroad for your work right before it happened. So it all worked out,” she said.
“Tell her I couldn’t be found,” Meredith said suddenly.
“Why?” I asked. “Meredith, I’m a mother too. I know what it’s like to lose a child. Nothing is more painful than that.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She lowered her gaze. Her voice trembled. “How can I face her? She’ll hate me.”
I let her words hang in the air. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But even so, she wanted to find you. That means something.”
Meredith wiped at her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want me?”
“She wants answers. She wants to know where she came from. You owe her that.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She looked away. I knew she resented me. But I reminded myself—this wasn’t about us. It was about Emily.
“I have her address,” I said. “Do you want to see her?”
Meredith hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.
We drove in silence. The streetlights flickered as we passed. When we reached the house, Meredith didn’t move. Her fingers dug into her lap.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
I shook my head. “This is between you two.”
She looked down. Her voice broke. “Mom… I regret cutting you out. I was ashamed.”
I turned to her. “You are my daughter. No matter what, I will always love you.”
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Her face crumpled, and she reached for me. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her the way I had when she was little.
“What you’re doing is important,” she whispered. “People like Emily need you.”
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
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Then she stepped out, walked to the door, and knocked.
A moment later, Emily appeared. They stared at each other. Then Meredith took a breath. Emily took a step forward.
They talked. They cried. And then Emily wrapped her arms around her mother.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My future brother-in-law was always a problem—rude, arrogant, and always pushing boundaries. But on my wedding day, he crossed a line we could never forgive. He humiliated me in front of everyone, turning my perfect day into a nightmare. That was the last straw, and my fiancé finally had enough.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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