Our Stepdad Gifted My Mom a Pack of Toilet Paper for Her Birthday — Our Revenge on Him Was Harsh

My stepdad always made a big deal about being the “man of the house,” but when his “special gift” for my mom’s birthday turned out to be a pack of toilet paper, I decided it was time for payback. And let’s just say someone else ended up desperately needing that present.

My stepfather, Jeff, loved reminding us he was the breadwinner of the house throughout our entire childhood. Anytime we sat down to dinner, he’d start with his usual spiel.

A man lauhing at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney

A man lauhing at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney

“You’re lucky I keep this roof over your heads,” he’d say and chortle. He also said it all the time while leaning back on his worn-out recliner. It was his favorite thing in the world.

My mom, Jane, always nodded along. She was the kind of woman who avoided conflict at any cost. She wasn’t raised in the 1950s, but her upbringing had been different from ours. Staying quiet had become almost an art form for her.

As her kids, my siblings (Chloe, Lily, and Anthony) and I could see that she desperately wanted to speak up but didn’t. Meanwhile, we surely didn’t consider him “the king of the castle” or a “real man,” which were other phrases Jeff used to describe himself.

A woman at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney

A woman at a dinning table | Source: Midjourney

Yes, he paid all the bills while we were growing up, and we were thankful. But that wasn’t an excuse to treat our mother like a servant and think he was better than the rest of us.

We had tried for years to get Mom to leave him to no avail.

Eventually, we all moved out of their house as we reached adulthood, but my sisters and I continued to visit Mom often. Anthony lived on the other side of the country, but he checked in every other day.

A man on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A man on the phone | Source: Midjourney

Still, we worried about her.

I felt that our visits weren’t enough to truly know what was going on in that house. I often sat alone in my apartment and wondered if Mom would ever leave this man and if there was something he could do to finally make her snap out of her proverbial shackles.

Yes, this is where it gets good.

This year, Jeff simply went too far. For days leading up to Mom’s birthday, he wouldn’t stop bragging about the “special gift” he’d picked out for her.

A man on a reclining chair | Source: Midjourney

A man on a reclining chair | Source: Midjourney

“This one’s going to knock her socks off,” he said over dinner at their house, grinning like a buffoon.

I wanted to believe him. Maybe he had finally decided to treat her with the respect she deserved. But deep down, I knew better. Jeff was Jeff, and people like him never changed.

My mom’s birthday arrived, and of course, my sisters and I were there, sitting in the living room. Jeff had a twinkle in his eyes, and I knew Mom had hope in hers.

Three sisters with presents in their hands | Source: Midjourney

Three sisters with presents in their hands | Source: Midjourney

After she opened our presents, my stepdad handed her a huge, beautifully wrapped package. He was smiling, and my mom’s face lit up as she carefully untied the ribbon.

“Oh, Jeff, you didn’t have to,” she said softly.

“Yes, I did. Go on. Open it,” he urged, leaning forward in his chair.

She unwrapped the box slowly, savoring the moment… until she saw what was inside— toilet paper. 12-pack. Four-ply. Jumbo rolls.

A woman smiling with a big present | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling with a big present | Source: Midjourney

Mom blinked in confusion.

“It’s so soft. Just like you!” Jeff declared, slapping his knee and cackling. “And look, four-ply, to represent your four kids. Perfect, right?”

Mom let out a nervous laugh, but I could see her eyes glistening. My sisters and I exchanged a look. This wasn’t just a bad joke; it was cruel.

We’d had enough. We had to do something.

A woman looking angry | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking angry | Source: Midjourney

***

Two days later, our plan began to take shape. Jeff loved two things: being the “big man” and free food. So, we invited him to a “family dinner” at the Chinese restaurant he always raved about.

Chloe, my youngest sibling, was the one who planted the idea.

“We’ll do it in his favorite place. He won’t suspect a thing,” she said, smirking.

Lily, being the eldest and most practical, raised an eyebrow. “And what happens after?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chloe replied. “We’ll handle it.”

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

We set the date and made sure to hype it up, so Jeff wouldn’t miss it.

“Dinner’s on us this time,” Chloe told him sweetly

Jeff puffed out his chest. “Well, it’s about time someone else paid for once. I’m glad that being out of the house has finally opened your eyes to how great you fared because of me!”

We rolled our eyes internally.

The restaurant was bustling that night. Shiny red lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving the space a nice reddish glow.

Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

The food from other tables smelled delicious, and I could tell Jeff was hungry as we sat down at our table.

“When are your mom and Lily getting here?” he asked, wrinkling his nose toward the front door.

“Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon. How about we order food anyway?” I suggested, nodding towards Chloe.

She agreed and started rattling off things she wanted, things we specifically planned to order: Szechuan beef, Kung Pao chicken, and the spiciest mapo tofu on the menu.

Chinese menu | Source: Midjourney

Chinese menu | Source: Midjourney

Jeff ordered his usual, but I knew what we had in mind would still work.

Each dish came out looking like a masterpiece of fiery reds and deep browns, garnished with fresh herbs and enough chili to make a grown man cry.

Chloe’s eyes twinkled as the waiter finished arranging everything on the table.

“Jeff, you can handle spicy, right?” she asked, pretending to be concerned.

A woman smiling at Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling at Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

Jeff stayed silent for a second, stumped, then nodded quickly. “I didn’t realize you gals wanted to share everything. Of course, I can eat anything. Nothing is ever too spicy for a real man.”

I chimed in with, “Be careful with these, though. They’re pretty hot.”

I just knew my words would make him mad.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Amelia,” Jeff scoffed and took his chopsticks to skewer a piece of beef straight into his mouth.

A man looking serious at a Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A man looking serious at a Chinese restaurant | Source: Midjourney

At first, he gave out an exaggerated moan, to “prove his manliness,” but soon, his face turned redder than the lanterns above us. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he chewed and breathed through his nose.

“Everything alright?” Chloe asked, again faking worry.

“Yes, yes,” he lied through his full mouth. “This is good stuff.”

I was sure Jeff wouldn’t grab more after gulping down an entire glass of Coke, but Chloe and I began eating in earnest.

“Oh, it’s not so spicy after all,” Chloe commented, smiling sugary-sweet. She was baiting him.

A woman smiling with chopsticks in her hand | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling with chopsticks in her hand | Source: Midjourney

I nodded, grabbing more.

Not to be outdone, Jeff began to eat more. He was breathing roughly now, but when we asked if he was alright, he simply said, “This really clears the sinuses, gals.”

Still, his fingers went up and snapped at the waiter to bring him more Coke.

Chloe leaned over and whispered, “He’s going to feel that later.”

“Oh, definitely,” I whispered back, grinning conspiratorially.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

***

While Jeff was busy showing off his “macho” tolerance for heat, Mom and Lily were busy back at the house with a rented U-Haul and movers.

They worked quickly to load up Mom’s belongings, such as clothes, keepsakes, her favorite chair, and even the toaster. I told them to take the things Mom had given Jeff over the years by saving up when she could: the recliner and his specialty tools.

A truck and workers loading boxes | Source: Midjourney

A truck and workers loading boxes | Source: Midjourney

But the pièce de résistance was Chloe telling them to remove every single roll of toilet paper in the house.

***

Jeff was still red when we left the restaurant, and he was grumbling about Mom and Lily being no-shows. So I just suggested going to the house to see if anything had happened.

When we arrived, everything was ready. The truck had already left. Meanwhile, Mom and Lily were hiding in the garage.

Jeff walked in with Chloe and me right behind him. He barely made it two steps into the living room before he froze.

A dimly lit living room | Source: Midjourney

A dimly lit living room | Source: Midjourney

“Where’s my recliner?” he barked, scanning the empty spot.

“Gone,” Chloe piped in casually, tilting her head. “Mom took what’s hers.”

Jeff turned to us and his face reddened again, but before he could say another word, his stomach gurgled loudly. He doubled over slightly, clutching his gut.

“Oh, man, I think that spicy food—” He paused, looking around frantically.

A man holding his stomach | Source: Midjourney

A man holding his stomach | Source: Midjourney

“Is something wrong, Jeff? I hope it wasn’t the food,” I said, blinking innocently.

He stared daggers at me before bolting down the hall. Moments later, we heard the bathroom door slam.

Lily and Mom appeared out of their hiding spot right in time to hear the sound of Jeff panicking. “What the hell? Where’s all the toilet paper?!” he yelled.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“We took that along with the recliner!” I shouted, laughter bubbling up. “After all, it also belonged to Mom!”

A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney

A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney

“WHAT?” he shouted back.

It seemed like he wasn’t getting it, so Mom stepped closer to the bathroom door. “I’M LEAVING YOU, JEFF! And I took what was mine,” she exclaimed firmly. “Including my dignity.”

Jeff groaned loudly from behind the bathroom door. “You can’t just leave me like this!” he yelled.

“WATCH ME!” Mom replied, adding, “Not that you can right now, but enjoy staying in the bathroom all night!”

A woman next to a closed door | Source: Midjourney

A woman next to a closed door | Source: Midjourney

My sisters and I stared at each other, giggling.

Jeff groaned, and there were other unsavory sounds, which I took as our cue to leave. “Let’s go, Mom,” I said.

She nodded and walked out, thanking us.

***

The next day, Jeff tried to call her. Over and over again, he left voicemails full of fake apologies and pitiful excuses.

“Jane, come on, be reasonable! You can’t just run off like this!” he begged.

A man using a phone | Source: Midjourney

A man using a phone | Source: Midjourney

But Mom didn’t answer or call back.

Instead, Chloe had a better idea.

On his birthday, we sent Jeff a little gift. A jumbo pack of toilet paper, wrapped just as carefully as the one he’d given Mom.

Attached was a handwritten note that read: “For a real man.”

Rolls of toilet paper on a porch | Source: Midjourney

Rolls of toilet paper on a porch | Source: Midjourney

Mom moved in with Lily, a temporary arrangement where we all helped while she found a job. Anthony was delighted to learn about what we had done and wished he was there, too.

From what I hear, Jeff’s still complaining to anyone who’ll listen. But Mom is finally living her life without his control, and we couldn’t be prouder.

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

A happy woman | 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.

I Returned Home with My Daughter Only to Find Out My Husband Had Disappeared — the Reason Left Me Speechless

They say life can change in an instant. For me, that instant came on a Tuesday evening when I returned home from the park with my four-year-old daughter to find our apartment eerily quiet and my husband’s closet completely empty.

Have you ever had that feeling where your whole world shifts beneath your feet? Where everything you thought you knew suddenly doesn’t make sense anymore?

That’s exactly how I felt when I found that note from my husband, telling me he’d only return if I fulfilled “one request.”

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

I used to think I had a pretty good handle on my life.

At thirty, I had what most people would consider the whole package. A beautiful daughter, a stable marriage, and a cozy apartment in the city.

Sure, Jordan and I had our moments, like any couple married for six years, but we always worked through them.

I thought my life was going well until that Tuesday evening when my world came crashing down.

A woman standing near a window | Source: Pexels

A woman standing near a window | Source: Pexels

“Mommy, can we go to the park?” Grace asked that afternoon, her big brown eyes pleading with me as she hugged her favorite stuffed rabbit. “Please? I want to show Mr. Hoppy the new swings!”

I smiled, setting aside the pile of laundry I’d been folding. “You know what? That sounds like a perfect idea.”

The park was just a few blocks from our apartment, and Grace chatted the whole way there about her day at daycare.

A black fence in a park | Source: Pexels

A black fence in a park | Source: Pexels

“And then Emma shared her cookies with me at snack time, and Miss Sarah said my drawing was the prettiest!”

“That’s wonderful, sweetie,” I laughed, swinging our joined hands between us. “Was it another unicorn drawing?”

“No, silly! It was our family,” she said. “You and me and Daddy and Mr. Hoppy!”

We spent nearly an hour at the park, Grace conquering the slide at least twenty times before I gave her several final pushes on the swings.

The late afternoon sun was starting to dip when I finally convinced her it was time to head home.

A girl blowing bubbles in a park | Source: Pexels

A girl blowing bubbles in a park | Source: Pexels

“But Mommy, just five more minutes?” she begged.

“Come on, munchkin. We need to start thinking about dinner.”

The first sign something was wrong came when we reached our floor. The door to our apartment was slightly ajar, which was unusual. Jordan was always careful about security.

“Jordan?” I called out as we stepped inside. “Hey, are you home early?”

Silence.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

“Grace, honey, why don’t you go put Mr. Hoppy in your room?” I suggested, trying to keep my voice casual despite the growing unease in my stomach.

Something felt off.

As soon as Grace disappeared down the hall, I headed straight for our bedroom. But the sight that greeted me made my heart stop.

Jordan’s side of the closet was completely empty. His dresser drawers hung open, cleared out. His laptop was gone from his desk, along with the framed photo of us from our honeymoon that usually sat beside it.

A desk in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A desk in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney

My hands were shaking as I noticed the piece of paper on his pillow. The message was brief, written in Jordan’s familiar scrawl.

I will return only if you fulfill ONE REQUEST.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the note crumpling slightly in my trembling fingers. What was happening?

Jordan and I had argued about him working too much just last week, but we’d made up. Everything had been fine. Normal. Hadn’t it?

“Mommy?” Grace’s small voice came from the doorway. “Where’s all Daddy’s stuff?”

A little girl looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A little girl looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

I quickly stood up and forced a smile.

“Hey sweetie. Daddy… Daddy had to go away for a little while. But it’s okay. We’re okay.”

As I pulled her into a hug, I wondered if I was trying to convince her or myself. Either way, I had a sinking feeling that nothing was really okay at all.

My first instinct was to call Jordan’s cell. With Grace playing in her room, I paced our living room, listening to the rings until his voicemail picked up.

“Jordan, where are you? What’s going on? Please call me back immediately.”

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

I tried messaging him on every social platform we used, but nothing helped. After an hour of silence, I started calling his friends.

“Hey Mike, it’s Kathryn,” I said when his best friend answered. “Have you heard from Jordan today?”

“Kathryn? No, haven’t talked to him since last week’s game night. Everything okay?”

“I… I don’t know. He’s gone. Like, really gone. His clothes, his laptop… everything’s gone, and he left this weird note about coming back if I fulfill some request.”

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

There was a long pause. “What? That doesn’t sound like Jordan at all. Have you called Tom or Steve?”

I called everyone I could think of, but nobody had heard anything.

Finally, with my hands shaking, I dialed his parents’ number.

“Linda? It’s Kathryn,” I tried to keep my voice steady. “Is Jordan with you?”

“Jordan? No, honey. Is something wrong? You sound upset.”

An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

“He’s… he’s gone. I came home and all his things were gone. He left a note saying he’ll only come back if I fulfill some request, but I don’t know what he wants. I can’t reach him anywhere.”

“What do you mean, gone?” Linda’s voice rose with concern.

“Robert!” I heard her call to Jordan’s father. “Robert, come here. Something’s happened with Jordan.”

“We haven’t heard anything from him,” Robert’s gruff voice came on the line. “This isn’t like him at all. Have you called the police?”

“I… no, not yet. I kept hoping he’d call or come back or…”

A woman talking to her in-laws | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her in-laws | Source: Midjourney

“Call them,” Robert interrupted firmly. “Right now. We’re coming over.”

I ended the call and dialed 911, my voice cracking as I explained the situation. Within thirty minutes, two officers were at our door – Officers Martinez and Chen according to their badges.

“Ma’am, can you tell us exactly what happened?” Officer Martinez asked, notebook in hand.

I recounted everything while Officer Chen examined the apartment.

A close-up shot of an officer's uniform | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of an officer’s uniform | Source: Pexels

Grace had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from the park and confused by all the commotion.

“And there were no signs of forced entry?” Officer Chen asked.

“No. He must have just… packed up and left while we were at the park.”

“Any recent arguments? Financial troubles? Signs of depression?”

I shook my head. “Nothing unusual. We had a small argument last week about his work hours, but we resolved it. Everything seemed fine.”

A woman talking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney

They took down all the information, but I could tell from their expressions that there wasn’t much they could do. Jordan was an adult who had left of his own accord.

“We’ll file a missing persons report,” Officer Martinez said gently, “but since there’s no sign of foul play…”

“I understand,” I whispered.

The next three days were a blur. I barely slept, jumping every time my phone buzzed. Jordan’s parents helped with Grace while I made more calls, checked our bank accounts, and tried to piece together any clues I might have missed.

Then came the doorbell on that third day.

A person ringing the doorbell | Source: Pexels

A person ringing the doorbell | Source: Pexels

I rushed to answer it, hope surging in my chest, only to find a plain brown package on our welcome mat.

My heart pounded as I picked it up, already knowing somehow that it was from Jordan.

The package had a DNA test and a letter. I quickly took the letter out and read it.

A close-up shot of a handwritten letter | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a handwritten letter | Source: Pexels

Dear Kathryn

I know this may come as a shock, but I need to know the truth. I’ve always suspected something.

Recently, I was looking through some old college photos of yours, and I saw your best friend from back then. As I looked at the picture, I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between her and Grace. Same hair color, same eyes, same nose.

I started wondering if Grace was not really my daughter.

I’m sorry, but I need you to do a DNA test for Grace. I can’t continue without knowing.

If you send me the results and they confirm I’m her father, I’ll return. If not, I can’t come back.

Please, send the results to the address below.

I couldn’t believe it.

A woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

Eight years together, and this was what he thought of me? Of our daughter? All because Grace happened to look like my old college friend?

I sat at our kitchen table, staring at that letter until the words blurred.

“You want proof?” I whispered to the empty room. “Fine. You’ll get your proof.”

I went ahead and did the DNA test. Not because Jordan wanted it. Because I wanted to prove how wrong he was.

I quickly took a cheek swab while Grace was sleeping. She barely stirred when I did it. Then, I sealed the sample and sent it for testing.

A woman sitting in her room | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in her room | Source: Midjourney

While we waited for the results, I threw myself into keeping life normal for Grace. But at night, after she was asleep, the anger would come rushing back.

“Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?” Grace asked one morning over breakfast.

I smoothed her hair, fighting back tears. “I’m not sure, sweetie. But you know what? You and me… we’re going to be just fine.”

“Like Emma and her mommy?” she asked, referring to her friend from daycare whose parents had divorced last year.

“Maybe,” I said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

When the DNA results finally arrived, I wasn’t even surprised. Of course, Jordan was Grace’s father. I’d never had a single doubt.

But as I held those results in my hands, I realized something important. Proving Jordan wrong wasn’t going to fix what he’d broken.

I sat down at my laptop and began typing.

A woman typing a letter | Source: Pexels

A woman typing a letter | Source: Pexels

Dear Jordan,

Here are your precious DNA results. Congratulations! You’re officially Grace’s biological father. But you know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. A real father wouldn’t abandon his daughter over a paranoid suspicion. A real husband wouldn’t disappear and leave his family in panic. A real man wouldn’t hide behind notes and packages instead of having an actual conversation.

You wanted the truth? Here’s the truth: We don’t need you. I don’t want someone who could throw away eight years of love and trust because our daughter happens to look like my old friend. Grace deserves better than a father who could doubt her very existence. I deserve better than a husband who could think so little of me.

Don’t bother coming back. We’re done.

-Kathryn

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

I sent both the results and my letter to the address he’d provided. Then I blocked his number, called a lawyer, and started the process of filing for divorce.

That evening, as Grace and I sat coloring at the kitchen table, she looked up at me with those innocent eyes and asked, “Are you sad, Mommy?”

I thought about it for a moment.

“No, sweetie,” I replied, realizing it was true. “I’m not sad. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is say goodbye to something that’s not good for us anymore.”

She nodded sagely, in that way only four-year-olds can, and went back to her coloring.

A child coloring a rainbow | Source: Pexels

A child coloring a rainbow | Source: Pexels

It’s been a week now, and I haven’t heard anything from Jordan. Maybe he’s ashamed. Maybe he’s angry. Maybe he’s relieved.

Honestly, I don’t care anymore. His disappearing act showed me exactly who he was, and his ridiculous demand proved what he thought of me.

Some people might think I’m being too harsh, cutting him out completely. But tell me, what would you do if someone you loved disappeared without a word, put you through days of panic and worry, only to demand a DNA test based on a photo resemblance? Would you take them back? Or would you do what I did and choose your own peace of mind?

All I know is that Grace and I are going to be just fine.

A woman sitting on the floor | Source Midjourney

A woman sitting on the floor | Source Midjourney

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: When Jake dismissed my request to attend his company’s annual party, I couldn’t shake the suspicion he was hiding something. Eventually, he reluctantly agreed — but from the moment we arrived, the icy stares and whispered conversations set me on edge. What I uncovered shattered everything.

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.

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