When Gina and her husband Brendan decided to separate, she took a break from the drama by staying with her parents for the weekend. But when she came back home, she was shocked to find all her things spread out on the lawn.
To her surprise, Gina discovered a valuable item that belonged to Brendan among the scattered items. This turn of events gave her a chance for some well-deserved revenge.
After deciding to split up, Brendan changed completely. The man she had shared her life with was now replaced by someone who was bitter and resentful.
“You’re complaining about how I act? How I talk?” Brendan shouted.
“I’m just saying you need to calm down. Yelling won’t help you get your point across,” I said, holding my head.
“Oh, come on, Gina,” he yelled even louder. “You made me this way! With all your demands and constant complaints. Just go live your life.”
So, I did.
As the divorce moved forward, Brendan and I tried to organize our things and make a clean break.
“Just let me pack up these items, Gina,” Brendan said one day, rummaging through my bookshelf.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=720187423&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.23~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902305&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294117&bpp=2&bdt=1491&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592&nras=6&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=2645&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=300&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=5&uci=a!5&btvi=3&fsb=1&dtd=11228
“You’ll just end up taking my things with you,” I replied. “I need to sort out my own stuff first.”
“Fine,” he said.
But things only got worse. The emotional stress left me feeling constantly nauseous and uneasy. So, I decided to spend the weekend at my parents’ house to clear my head.
“Yeah, run away to your parents,” Brendan sneered as I packed an overnight bag.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=1527610060&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.33~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902308&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294129&bpp=2&bdt=1503&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280&nras=7&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=3165&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=800&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=1&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=6&uci=a!6&btvi=4&fsb=1&dtd=14067
“They’re better than you,” I said, walking out the door.
And honestly? It was the right choice. I needed space to process everything, especially the fact that I was going to be on my own for the first time in twelve years. Even though Brendan and I needed to be apart, I couldn’t see my future clearly.
I also just wanted my parents to take care of me for the weekend.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=1586282284&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.41~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902319&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294136&bpp=1&bdt=1510&idt=1&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=8&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=3674&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=1400&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=7&uci=a!7&btvi=5&fsb=1&dtd=25709
“Oh, Gina,” my mother said as she took out a tray of delicious roast lamb. “All you need to do is eat and rest. Whatever you want to eat, just tell me and I’ll make it. And if you need anything from the store, just tell Dad. He’ll make a quick run for you.”
I took a deep breath. I was exactly where I needed to be.
“Are you sure a divorce is the right choice?” my father asked me during dinner.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=2314894532&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.49~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902326&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294141&bpp=2&bdt=1514&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=9&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=4182&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=1900&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=8&uci=a!8&btvi=6&fsb=1&dtd=32261
“Yes,” I said with a heavy heart. “If there was ever a chance for us to fix things, it was a long time ago. We’ve missed that chance. Brendan and I just don’t see things the same way anymore. I don’t think there’s any love left between us.”
“You do what you need to do, honey,” my mother said. “If your mental health is telling you that you need a fresh start, then that’s what you should go for.”
I took her advice to heart and spent my time taking long walks with Pippy, my parents’ dog. I needed to clear my head and give myself the space to breathe.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=44561737&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.57~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902328&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294148&bpp=1&bdt=1522&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=10&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=4736&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=2400&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=9&uci=a!9&btvi=7&fsb=1&dtd=34664
“You’re making the right choice,” I reassured myself. “There’s nothing wrong with starting over.”
When I got home on Monday morning, expecting to find Brendan and his things gone, I was met with a shock.
My entire collection of furniture, from before and during our marriage, was spread all over the lawn. A huge hand-painted sign that said “Free Stuff!” was proudly displayed, inviting anyone passing by to take whatever they wanted.
“What on earth is this?” I muttered, slamming the car door.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My coffee table, the flea market couch, and even my grandmother’s old rocking chair were all out on the lawn, baking in the sun and waiting to be taken by anyone who passed by.
I kicked the sign down so it lay flat and pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed Brendan. After three rings, he finally answered.
“Hey, what’s up, Gina?” he answered, sounding casual, almost smug.
“What’s up?” I echoed. “What’s up?”
“Yeah, that’s what I asked,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? Why is all my furniture on the lawn? Are you absolutely out of your mind?”
There was a pause before he replied.
“You were going to sue for all my money anyway,” he said. “I heard you on the phone with someone. I know you wanted everything, or at least half of it! So you might as well know how it feels to lose what’s yours.”
I was speechless.
Sure, I had thought about taking him for a ride and getting my share of his money, but the weekend away with my parents had taught me to let it go.
“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” I finally managed to say. “You think this is going to solve anything? You’re just making things worse for yourself.”
He scoffed loudly.
“Whatever. It’s your problem now. Maybe you should charge people for your things instead of letting them take it for free.”
I wanted to scream, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Brendan had made up his mind, and like any dog with a bone, there was no reasoning with him.
I crouched down and opened the drawer, where I found a small, velvet pouch. As I opened it, my heart raced. Inside was a stunning gold necklace with a large diamond pendant—one that Brendan had always bragged about but claimed was lost.
I couldn’t believe my luck. Brendan’s petty move had actually handed me a priceless item. I smiled despite everything.
I took a deep breath, feeling a spark of satisfaction. This necklace, once a symbol of Brendan’s arrogance, was now mine. I packed it away carefully, deciding it would be my little piece of revenge.
Seeing the family heirloom tucked away in the drawer, a smirk crept onto my face despite my anger. Brendan’s father’s watch, a cherished piece that he rarely wore, was now in my hands.
“Stupid Brendan,” I muttered under my breath. He’d clearly overlooked this valuable item in his hasty revenge.
I carefully wrapped the watch and tucked it into my bag alongside the necklace. As much as the whole situation had been frustrating, it felt good to have something of value—something Brendan truly cared about—as a small victory in this mess.
As I slipped Brendan’s watch into my pocket, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph. “Checkmate,” I said to myself, a small smile on my face. He had left it out there for anyone to take, and I wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste.
Next, I quickly texted my friends, asking for help to move everything back into the house. Their support would be crucial in getting my belongings back inside safely.
“Brendan is the worst, Gina,” my friend Jenny said, carrying a lamp. “This is a new low.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there,” I replied. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a way to get back at him.”
I explained to Jenny about the watch and how I had it safely tucked away in my car. I was sure Brendan would eventually notice it was missing, and I was ready to use it as a bargaining chip.
“Look, the neighbors came over and took a few things. The bedside tables are gone too. But if you’re polite enough, I’m sure Cathy will sell them back to you.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Gina, it’s my dad’s watch. My granddad’s watch. I really need it back.”
I let the silence stretch for a moment before responding.
“I see. Well, like I said, it’s with Cathy. But I’m sure she’ll be reasonable. You know, for the right price.”
I nodded and said, “Thanks. You can leave now.”
“I’ll get in touch with you about the divorce. My lawyer has some things to discuss with us,” he replied.
“Cool,” I said simply.
Brendan did a double-take, then took the watch from me and walked away slowly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Boy Drops a Letter into an Abandoned House’s Mailbox, Receives a Mysterious Reply the Next Day — Story of the Day
Six-year-old Ethan had recently lost his mother, leaving a deep void in his heart. In his grief, he started writing letters to her, pouring out his feelings on paper. One day, while wandering the streets, he stumbled upon an old, rusty mailbox at an abandoned house. He decided to slip one of his letters inside, never expecting anyone to see it. To his astonishment, the very next day, he found a mysterious reply waiting for him.
Ethan, a six-year-old little boy with curly brown hair, felt a constant weight on his chest since his mother passed away. His father, Jacob, seemed lost in his world of grief.
Jacob used to be a lively and attentive father, but now he barely noticed Ethan, spending most of his time staring at old photos or working late to avoid the empty house.
“Mom, I miss you so much,” Ethan whispered to his toy car.
He often imagined his mother traveling with him in the little car.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan missed her gentle voice, warm hugs, and reading bedtime stories with her every night. In his loneliness, he began writing letters to her.
“Dear Mom,
Today was another hard day without you. I miss you so much. Dad is really sad too. I don’t think he notices me much anymore. I wish you were here to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.
Love, Ethan”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He poured his heart into those letters and hoped she would hear him.
One day, while wandering around his neighborhood, Ethan stumbled upon an old, abandoned house. The paint was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and the garden was overgrown with weeds.
“Hey, Mom,” Ethan said to his toy car, “look at this old house. It’s kind of spooky but also cool, right?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He walked closer, curiosity driving him.
Ethan saw the rusty mailbox at the front gate. That day, he had brought one of his letters with him, tucked safely in his jeans pocket, intending to read it to his mom in a quiet spot. Ethan just slipped it inside the mailbox, thinking no one would ever see him.
“Mom, I’m leaving this letter here,” he whispered. “It will be our secret.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He took a step back and looked at the house again.
“Do you think anyone lives here?” he asked his car, imagining his mother’s voice answering. “Probably not, but it’s a good place for my letter.”
Ethan stood there for a moment longer, feeling a bit silly but also comforted by the act.
“Okay, let’s go home now,” he said to the car. “Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow.”
As he walked home, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother, picturing her reading his letter and smiling.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I hope you like my letters, Mom,” he whispered, clutching the toy car even tighter. “I’ll keep writing them, I promise.”
When he reached his house, his dad was still sitting at the table in the living room. Ethan paused at the doorway, watching his father for a moment.
“Dad,” he said quietly, but Jacob didn’t respond. Sighing, Ethan headed to his room, pulling out another piece of paper to write another letter to his mom.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Dear Mom,” he began, “I found a new place to leave my letters for you. It’s an old, abandoned house, and it feels like a special spot just for us…”
As he wrote, he felt the sadness lifting just a little, finding solace in the connection created, even if it was only in his imagination.
“Goodnight, Mom,” he whispered to the toy car on his bedside table before drifting off to sleep.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next day, Ethan felt a strange urge to visit the abandoned house again. He wanted to leave his new letter in that mailbox.
As he approached the gate, he noticed something different. The mailbox was slightly open. Ethan’s heart raced as he looked around.
Inside, he found a folded piece of paper. It was a letter addressed to … him. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Dear Ethan,” it started. “Thank you for sharing your beautiful words. Your letters have touched my heart. Please don’t stop writing. With love, Clara.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan was so absorbed in the letter that he didn’t hear the front door of the house creak open. A woman stepped out quietly.
She was older, with silver hair and kind, but sad eyes. She watched Ethan read her letter, a gentle smile forming on her face.
Suddenly, Ethan felt a presence and looked up, startled. He nearly dropped the letter.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The woman held up her hand in a calming gesture. “It’s alright, dear,” she said softly. “I’m Clara. I’ve been reading your letter.”
Ethan blinked in surprise. “You…you read them?”
Clara nodded. “Yes, and they’ve brought me a lot of comfort. Your letter reminded me of my own son. I lost my family years ago.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I miss my mom so much,” Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Clara stepped closer, her eyes filled with empathy.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I know, Ethan. Grief is a heavy burden to carry. But sharing your feelings, even through letters, can help lighten that load.”
A loud, angry voice interrupted them just then, “Clara!”
A tall, stern-looking man marched towards them. “It’s time you left, Clara,” Mr. Harrow said harshly. “You’ve had enough time to grieve. This house belonged to my brother, and now it’s mine.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara stood her ground, her eyes blazing. “There was no will, Mr. Harrow. My husband died young, along with our son. Your so-called will is a forgery!”
Mr. Harrow sneered, “You have no choice. I’m taking the house. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
As Ethan stepped forward, trying to understand the situation, Mr. Harrow finally noticed him. “And who is this? Why are kids wandering around my property?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan, clutching his letter, stammered, “I…I was just leaving a letter for my mom…”
Mr. Harrow’s eyes narrowed, “Letter? What letter?”
He snatched the letter from Ethan’s hands and started tearing it up. “You’re littering this place with your trash!”
Ethan’s heart broke as he saw pieces of his letters flutter to the grass. He watched helplessly as Mr. Harrow destroyed his heartfelt messages.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Then Clara stepped forward and said, “How could you do that? He’s just a child, grieving his mother.”
But Ethan already run away, his mind racing.
“Why was Mr. Harrow so mean? And why did he want to remove Clara from her house? She seems so nice,” he whispered to his toy car as he ran. “Mom, what should I do?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Mr. Harrow win. Clara needed help, and maybe, just maybe, his father could provide it.
Breathless, Ethan clutched his toy car tighter, “I won’t let him hurt Clara, Mom. I promise I’ll help her.”
***
Distraught, Ethan burst through the front door, tears streaming down his face.
“Dad! Dad, I need your help!” he shouted, rushing into the kitchen where Jacob was sitting.
Jacob looked up, startled, “Ethan, what’s wrong?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s Mr. Harrow! He wants to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, Dad. We have to help her!” Ethan pleaded.
Jacob sighed and rubbed his temples, clearly confused.
“Ethan, calm down. I don’t understand. Who is Mr. Harrow? Who is Clara? And what letters are you talking about?”
Ethan continued to cry out, his words slurred, “Clara.. abandoned … letters .. for Mom! Mr. Harrow! Tore them up!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob didn’t want to deal with the situation and tried to calm Ethan down.
“Ethan, stop shouting. This isn’t our problem. You shouldn’t be getting involved in things that don’t concern you.”
Ethan was still in a panic and didn’t calm down. He continued to cry and plead with his father.
Jacob was frustrated and did not fully understand the situation. He took the torn pieces of the letters from Ethan’s hands. “That’s enough, Ethan. You need to go to your room and think about your behavior.”
Ethan felt utterly helpless, and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His heart pounded as he ran towards the police station, determined to find someone who would listen and help Clara.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
When Ethan arrived at the station, which was on the next street, he breathlessly explained everything to the officer at the desk, hoping they would take action.
“Officer, please, you have to help! Mr. Harrow is trying to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, and he’s being so mean!” Ethan exclaimed, tears streaming down his face.
The officer listened patiently, nodding as Ethan spoke.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Calm down, son,” he said gently. “I understand you’re upset, but Mr. Harrow has already informed us about this. He’s claiming the house is rightfully his.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But Clara lives there! It’s her home!”
The officer sighed and continued, “The problem is, Clara doesn’t have any documents to prove ownership of the house. She mentioned she lost them. Without those papers, there’s not much we can do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan felt a lump in his throat, “But that’s not fair! She’s lived there for so long! You have to help her!”
The officer shook his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I know this is hard for you to understand, but without those documents, Mr. Harrow has the legal right to the property. It’s best if you go home now. I’ll walk you back.”
Feeling defeated, Ethan nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The officer took Ethan’s hand and guided him out of the station.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
When they arrived at his house, a worried Jacob had just returned home.
“Ethan, where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been searching for you at all the neighbors’ houses.”
Ethan looked down, “I went to the police, Dad. I thought they could help.”
Jacob sighed deeply and pulled Ethan into a hug, “I’m not mad, Ethan. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Jacob glanced at the letters on the kitchen table, the ones he had found when Ethan ran away. He had read a few of them and realized how much empathy and love Ethan had in his heart and how little attention he had been giving to his son’s feelings and struggles.
After a long moment of silence, Jacob made a decision.
“Alright, Ethan. Let’s go talk to Clara. She can stay with us until we figure this out.”
Ethan’s eyes lit up with hope. “Really, Dad?”
Jacob nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yes, really. Let’s go help her.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Father and son walked back to Clara’s house together, ready to offer her the shelter and support she needed.
Little did they know, Mr. Harrow, hidden in the shadows, was watching them with narrowed eyes, already plotting his next move to reclaim the property. He had no intention of backing down.
***
Clara, Jacob, and Ethan began living together. The three of them quickly formed a close bond.
Every morning, Clara prepared breakfast while humming a cheerful tune. Her delicious cooking and the flowers she planted in the garden brought life back into the house.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Ethan, come help me plant these flowers,” Clara called out one sunny afternoon.
Ethan ran over, excited, “What kind are they, Clara?”
“These are marigolds. They’ll add a beautiful splash of color to the garden,” she replied, handing him a small shovel.
As they worked together, Ethan chatted away, pretending to talk to his toy car. “Mom, look at these flowers! Aren’t they pretty?” he whispered, imagining his mother was there with him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob watched from the kitchen window, a small smile on his face. Clara’s presence had a calming effect on him. He found himself smiling more and even started joining Ethan and Clara for activities.
“Jacob, dinner’s ready!” Clara called out one evening.
Jacob came to the table, the aroma of Clara’s home-cooked meal filling the room. “Smells wonderful, Clara. Thank you.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan chimed in, “Yeah, Clara, you’re the best cook ever!”
Clara laughed, a warm, hearty sound, “Thank you, Ethan. I love cooking for you both.”
After dinner, Clara and Ethan settled on the couch with a book of fairy tales.
“Once upon a time,” Clara began, and Ethan snuggled closer, listening intently. These moments became a cherished part of their daily routine. Ethan’s sadness began to lift, bit by bit, replaced by the warmth of Clara’s love and stories.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
A few months passed quickly. The legal situation with Clara’s house was resolved in her favor. The ownership documents were found in the registry, proving her rightful claim to the house. Mr. Harrow’s will was confirmed to be a forgery, and he received only a verbal warning to stay away from Clara, as she chose not to press charges against him.
Jacob and Ethan went with Clara to her house, carrying a mix of hope and sadness.
“I don’t want you to go, Clara,” Ethan said, his voice trembling.
Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “We can still visit, Ethan.”
When they arrived, they were shocked to see the destruction. Mr. Harrow had demolished half of it with the help of hired workers and a crane.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara’s eyes filled with tears. “How could he do this?”
Ethan looked up at his father, his eyes pleading, “Dad, we have to do something.”
Jacob’s face hardened,. “We will, Ethan. I promise.” He turned to Clara. “I’m going to personally sue Mr. Harrow for this. He won’t get away with it.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara nodded, wiping her tears. “Thank you, Jacob.”
Jacob looked at Ethan, then back at Clara.
“You’ll stay with us. We’ll all work together to fix up your home. You’ve become a dear person to both of us, Clara.”
Then Ethan gave Clara his toy car. “You’re part of our family now,” he said, offering it as a sign of trust and acceptance. It was the most precious thing he had, symbolizing how much she meant to him and how she had become an important part of their lives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara’s eyes softened as she hugged Ethan back. “Thank you, Ethan. Thank you, Jacob. You’ve both given me a second chance at happiness.”
Together, they headed back home, ready to face the challenges ahead. The bond they had formed was strong, and they knew that together, they could overcome anything.
As they walked, Ethan held his toy car close and whispered, “Mom, Clara is staying with us. She makes me happy, and I think you would like her too.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Chloe found her foster daughter, Alicia, covered in oil paint at home. She knew Alicia had been at Orin’s studio. Orin, their neighbor, was an artist in his fifties, and Chloe was in love with him. To stop Alicia from making a big mistake, Chloe was ready to reveal an old family secret. Read the full story here.
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.
Leave a Reply