When Nicole’s stepmother calls her saying that she has a gift for her, Nicole goes over excitedly. But when she discovers what the gift is, Nicole is torn between keeping her father happy or retaliating. Finally, she accepts it and plans to transform it into something completely different. In the end Nicole is ready to claim the rewards of her hard work.
Ever have one of those moments where you should’ve just trusted your gut? Yep, that was me, standing in my stepmother’s basement, staring at the ugliest, smelliest couch I’d ever seen.
A close up of a young woman | Source: Midjourney
My stepmother, Susan, called me earlier that morning with a grand gesture for my birthday. She insisted that she had a “priceless” gift that was too big for her to move alone.
“You’re going to love it, Nicole!” she said. “It’s absolutely priceless! Come over later today, and we’ll show it to you.”
Now, this is the point when I tell you that Susan and I had never been close. In fact, if I’m being honest, she barely tolerated my existence. So, imagine my absolute surprise when she offered me a gift.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“Curiosity killed the cat, Nic,” I said to myself as I got into the car.
I just wanted to see what it was, and I hoped that, for once, she might actually be genuine.
So, I get to my dad’s house, and he tells me that Susan’s busy.
“She’s sorting out the basement, honey,” he said. “Susan is finally cleaning out her clutter. It’s about time, to be honest. Come, have a cup of tea.”
A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney
“No, let me check out the gift first, Dad,” I said. “I’m so curious!”
He chuckled, oblivious to my nerves. Susan had a knack for random gifts. Last year, she gave me water bottles and socks for my birthday. I wondered if this year would be any different.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll get Susan, and then we can have some tea and a slice of cake. Susan made lemon cake this morning.”
A slice of lemon cake | Source: Midjourney
I paced in the foyer while my dad went down to the basement. Moments later, I heard them on the stairs.
Then I saw it.
My dad and Susan were making their way out of the basement with the monstrosity of a couch. The fabric was stained and ripped, with a stench that could probably knock out an adult horse! It looked like it had been neglected for decades!
A stained yellow couch | Source: Midjourney
“Happy Birthday!” Susan beamed, as if she were handing me the keys to a new car.
My dad looked at me expectantly, hoping I’d be happy with the gift. But it was horrendous! Rejecting it would hurt him, and Susan knew it. I could see it on her face.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed my frustration and called my boyfriend to bring his van over.
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes, babe,” Derek said.
“Thank you!” I replied. “I think they want the couch out today, so I need to take it home.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Not a problem, Nic,” he said. “I’m just gaming online. But I’ll be done soon.”
I knew that Susan was using me as a free dump and delivery service. That couch wasn’t fit to be in any home. But again, I was determined to keep the peace for my father.
Derek showed up as I was drinking my cup of tea, and we loaded the couch and left for my home. He was going to follow me home, and we planned on having dinner together.
A young man in a driving | Source: Midjourney
“This couch is rough,” he said. “Looks like it’s been through a storm or two.”
My initial plan was to dump it at the curb and let someone else take it, but then something shifted inside me. I wasn’t going to let Susan win.
I decided to restore the couch and give it a second life. And so began a project I ne ver thought would lead to surprising results.
A young woman with yellow rubber gloves | Source: Midjourney
First, I tackled the smell.
The couch reeked of a stench that it seemed to have a life of its own. And the odor only got stronger as the day went on.
Luckily, I found a recipe for a DIY deodorizing solution online: white vinegar, water, and a few drops of lavender essential oil. I mixed it up and sprayed it generously over the couch, letting it sit for a few hours.
Glass bottles on a counter | Source: Midjourney
The vinegar smell was overpowering, but it faded, taking most of the nasty odor with it.
Next, I had to deal with the stains.
The years of spills and neglect had left their mark, so I whipped up a cleaning concoction of baking soda, hydrogen peroxide, and a small amount of dish soap. With a soft brush in hand, I carefully scrubbed the stained areas, working the mixture into the fabric.
Different cleaning supplies on a counter | Source: Midjourney
I let it sit for about fifteen minutes before wiping it off with a damp cloth. The transformation was already noticeable. The stains were fading, and I felt optimistic about my restoration project.
But then I had to deal with the rips and tears. A simple needle and thread weren’t going to fix this.
A woman scrubbing a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Nic, you need material,” Derek said while marinating chicken in the kitchen. “There’s no other way than to do a funky patch job.”
“I agree,” I said. “Will you be fine here while I do a quick dash into town?”
Derek nodded.
“But why are you rushing?” Derek asked.
A young man in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Because if I don’t, it’ll end up as another sidelined project.”
“Go,” he laughed. “I’ll finish dinner in the meantime.”
So, I went to the local thrift store and found some reasonably matching fabric, random buttons, frills, and even two throw cushions.
A young woman in a thrift shop | Source: Midjourney
I used fabric glue to patch the larger holes and an iron-on fabric mender for the smaller tears. Finally, to give the whole couch a more cohesive look, I added some decorative buttons and tufting in key areas, making it look almost intentional.
A young woman sitting on a couch and looking through buttons | Source: Midjourney
“Alright, give it a rest, Nic,” Derek said as he took the last flatbread out of the pan. “You can finish it off in the morning.”
My arms were exhausted from all the scrubbing, so I was ready to listen to Derek and just sit down and eat everything he prepared.
Flatbread on a board | Source: Midjourney
But the next morning, I was back at it. I used my steam cleaner and thoroughly steamed the couch. I spent hours going over every inch of it, bringing the fabric back to life while I imagined every germ evaporating into oblivion.
By the time I was done, the couch looked like something out of a high-end furniture store.
“Damn, Nic!” I said to myself. “Well done, girl.”
A woman steam cleaning a couch | Source: Midjourney
Feeling pretty proud of my work, I decided to post the couch on a social media marketplace for $5,000. It was almost a joke because I just wanted to see if anyone would go for it.
I loved the restoration of the couch, but I also just wanted to see if I could make some money from my DIY project.
“What on earth?!” I exclaimed when my phone buzzed with a notification. Someone named Maggie was ready to purchase my couch!
A woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
To my shock, within a day, I got an offer from someone in the ritzy part of town. I couldn’t believe my luck, but I accepted the offer anyway.
“This is just wonderful,” Maggie said.
The moment I agreed to the sale, she came flying over to my place to test out the couch.
“This couch is going to be perfect for my art studio! Why would you ever want to get rid of it?” she asked.
“I’m just redecorating,” I said sheepishly. “But look, it’s yours to love and enjoy.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
A few days later, Susan showed up at my doorstep, furious. She had seen the post and the fact that the couch had been purchased for $5,000.
“You ungrateful little brat! How dare you sell my gift?” she screamed.
“Susan, you gave me a piece of junk. Actual junk. I put in the time and effort to restore it. The only reason it was worth anything now is simply because of my work.”
But she didn’t back down.
A close up of an angry woman | Source: Midjourney
“It was my couch! I expect half the money since you sold it. That’s $2,500!”
I couldn’t believe her nerve.
“No, Susan. If you wanted to sell the couch, you should’ve done it yourself. The transformation and profit are all mine.”
“You’ll regret this!” she shouted, storming off.
She hasn’t come back, so I don’t know what she’s planning. But I know I’ll be getting a call from my dad soon.
A smiling young woman | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
In-Laws Kicked Us Out of the House They Gifted After We Paid for Renovations — Then It Got Even Worse
When Mike’s parents offer him and his family a home, they are over the moon. Mike and Maria have a growing family, and they need the extra space. So, they venture into renovations, making the house a home. But one day, Mike’s parents called, wanting their home back.
When my in-laws offered us a house, we thought it was a dream come true. With three kids and a tight budget, any help came as a blessing.
A close-up of a house | Source: Midjourney
But, let me be honest with you: the house was far from ideal.
“It’s in the middle of nowhere, Mike,” I told my husband when we were sitting on the couch talking about the possibility of moving into the house.
“It’s miles away from the kids’ school and our jobs! We’ll have to leave a lot earlier just to make it on time,” I said, sighing.
A couple sitting on a couch and talking | Source: Midjourney
“I know, Maria,” my husband said. “It irritates me that the nearest grocery store is twenty minutes away. But I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”
I understood. Their gift came at the perfect time. Our little two-bedroom house was cluttered, and our three kids had to share one bedroom.
A cluttered bedroom | Source: Midjourney
“We’ll do it for the kids,” I said, taking his hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work for them.”
“Think of it as a fresh start, kids,” Mike’s mom said when we went over to their home for dinner. “You’ll love the peace and quiet, and the kids will have a lot of space to run about in. This is going to be good for you.”
“Yes, Mom,” Mike said. “We agree with you. We’re looking forward to this new start and just going on a journey together as a family.”
A family sitting at a table | 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.
New Homeowners Expressed Gratitude for the Additional Set of Keys I Supposedly Left, but I Never Provided Them, and None of the Locks Correspond to Those Keys
A mysterious set of keys discovered in their grandparents’ old house sends two sisters on a suspenseful journey into their past. As they delve deeper, they uncover a long-forgotten room that reveals the house was hiding more than just cherished memories.
My name is Emily, and I grew up in a house that was more than just bricks and mortar; it was a part of our family’s story. My sister, Megan, and I inherited this old house from our grandparents.
It was a little run-down, but it had character. It was the kind of place that creaks at night, where every sound seems to whisper a memory from the past. We used to laugh about the noises, chalking it up to old pipes or a settling foundation. But deep down, I always felt there was more to it, something almost alive in the way the house carried the echoes of our childhood.
I always loved that house, and not just because it was home. My grandfather, a quiet man with a heart of gold, spent countless hours teaching me how to fix things around the house.
We would spend entire weekends working on small projects like repairing a leaky faucet or sanding down the old wooden floors. He’d tell me stories from his youth, sharing wisdom wrapped in humor. Those moments were priceless, and every corner of the house seemed to hold a piece of him.
After Grandma passed, though, the house felt different, heavy, almost suffocating. Megan couldn’t stand being there anymore. She didn’t even want to step foot in the place after the funeral. While I clung to the memories, she was eager to let go and sell it.
She rushed the whole process, not even bothering with repairs or anything. We got a decent offer, and after some hesitation, I reluctantly agreed to sell it. Letting go was harder than I expected, but I knew it was time to move forward, even if it meant leaving a piece of my heart behind.
A few weeks after the closing, I get this text from the new owners:
“Thanks for leaving the extra set of keys! But we were wondering, what does #1135 mean?”
I blinked at my phone. Extra keys? I didn’t leave any extra keys. I had barely enough time to grab my own before we handed everything over. And that number? No clue. I texted them back:
“I didn’t leave any extra keys. Where did you find them?”
They replied:
“They were in a drawer in the kitchen. None of the locks match though. We tried every door, nothing works. Just thought it was odd.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Megan had cleaned out the kitchen. I hadn’t even been in there that much. So, where did these keys come from? And why did this feel off?
I texted Megan right away:
“Did you leave any extra keys in the house? The new owners found some in the kitchen, and they’re asking about #1135.”
Her response was almost immediate:
“NO. THEY NEED TO GET OUT. Tell them to wait outside the house. NOW.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. Megan never freaked out like this. She was always the cool, collected one. For her to react like this? Something was wrong. Really wrong.
I sent the homeowners a message:
“Hey, just to be safe, could you step outside the house for a bit? Something’s not sitting right with me. I’ll explain when I get more info.”
They replied, concerned but cooperative:
“We’re already out. Standing by the front door. What’s going on?”
I had no idea what was going on, but I needed answers. I called Megan. She picked up on the first ring.
“Meg, what is happening? What does #1135 mean?”
There was silence on the other end. Then, she let out a shaky breath.
“It’s… The code Grandpa used for the basement.”
I felt a chill settle over me.
“Meg… there’s no basement door in that house.”
“I know,” she replied, her voice uneasy. “But there used to be.”
My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Megan was silent for a moment before she finally said, “I’ll explain everything later. For now, they just need to stay outside. I’m coming over with some people who can check it out. I’ll explain when I get there.”
The next hour felt like the longest of my life. Megan didn’t tell me anything over the phone after that, and I had no idea what to expect. I stood by, pacing nervously, while the new homeowners hovered near their front door, visibly concerned.
When Megan finally pulled up with a team of professionals, they didn’t waste any time. Without saying much, they went inside and headed straight to the basement. I watched from the yard, trying not to let my imagination run wild. The new homeowners stood beside me, exchanging worried glances.
After what felt like forever, Megan and the team finally came out. Megan looked both relieved and a little embarrassed. The professionals were packing up their equipment, and one of them gave a thumbs-up as they headed to their van.
Megan walked up to us, brushing off her hands.
“No danger,” she said with a small, apologetic smile. “Everything’s fine. They checked the basement, and there’s nothing hazardous down there. No gas leaks, no chemicals, no faulty wiring.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, but the confusion still lingered. The new homeowners also looked relieved but clearly wanted an explanation.
“So… what was all this about?” I asked.
Megan sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry for the scare. I honestly didn’t think we’d ever have to deal with this. When I saw the number 1135, it jogged my memory.”
She looked over at the new homeowners and then back at me. “Do you remember how Grandpa used to always do little projects around the house? Years ago, he built a storage area in the basement where he kept tools, extra supplies, and things he didn’t want us kids messing with. He sealed it off when Grandma got sick because they needed the space for medical equipment. I thought everything was cleared out, but I guess not.”
I blinked. “So, what’s #1135?”
“It was the code Grandpa used for that storage room,” Megan explained. “When I saw that number, I panicked. I thought if the new owners found keys, maybe there was something left in that room that could be dangerous — like old supplies or chemicals. I didn’t want to risk it, so I had the professionals come to check.”
The new homeowners exchanged a glance, one of them speaking up. “So the keys are just for an old storage room?”
Megan nodded. “Yeah. I’m so sorry I didn’t mention this earlier. I honestly thought Grandpa had cleared everything out, and I completely forgot about the room after we sealed it up. But when you said you found those keys, I remembered the old room, and I didn’t want to take any chances.”
I shook my head, still a little stunned. “So, there was nothing dangerous down there after all?”
“Nothing at all,” Megan confirmed. “Just some old tools and supplies Grandpa stored years ago. No chemicals, no faulty wiring — it’s completely safe.”
The new homeowners both sighed with relief, one of them smiling. “Well, at least we have an extra room to use now.”
Megan laughed a little, still looking apologetic. “Yeah, think of it as a bonus storage space.”
As the professionals finished packing up and drove off, the tension in the air finally lifted. I gave Megan a look, half-amused and half-exasperated.
“You could’ve told me all of this from the start, you know.”
Megan shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t want to freak you out until I was sure. And honestly, when I saw that number, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just remembered Grandpa sealing it off and got worried something dangerous was left behind.”
In the end, it turned out to be nothing more than an old storage room full of forgotten tools and supplies, left sealed off when Grandpa had no more use for it. The panic had been unnecessary, but I couldn’t blame Megan for being cautious.
As the new homeowners went back inside, grateful for the heads-up, Megan and I stood by the car for a moment, shaking our heads.
“I guess we can finally close the chapter on Grandpa’s house,” I said, relieved.
Megan nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, just one last surprise.”
And that was it. No mystery, no danger — just an old forgotten space that had stayed hidden for a little too long.
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