My husband, Clark, booked first-class tickets for himself and his mom, leaving me and our kids in economy. But I wasn’t going to let that slide. I made sure his “luxury” flight came with some turbulence, turning the trip into a lesson he wouldn’t forget.
I’m Sophie, and Clark is one of those workaholics who thinks his job is the most important thing in the world. I get it, he works hard, but being a mom isn’t a walk in the park either! So, here’s what happened.
We were going on a family vacation, and Clark booked our tickets. When we got to the airport, I realized he and his mom were flying first class, while I was left with the kids in economy. I felt embarrassed and angry that he didn’t think of me or the kids.
Instead of sulking, I decided to make things uncomfortable for him. I sent the kids up to first class every few minutes. “Go ask Daddy for a snack,” or “Tell Grandma you want to sit with her.” The kids didn’t stop, and soon, Clark’s peaceful flight turned into chaos. His first-class luxury wasn’t so relaxing anymore.
By the end of the flight, Clark wasn’t as smug. Lesson learned: if you’re going to leave your wife and kids in economy, don’t expect a smooth flight!
Oh boy, was I wrong.
As we got to the airport, I asked Clark where our seats were, juggling our toddler and a diaper bag in the chaotic airport. Clark was busy on his phone, barely looking up. “Oh, about that…” he mumbled.
I felt uneasy. “What do you mean, ‘about that’?”
He finally looked up, giving me a sheepish grin I’ve learned to dread. “Well, I managed to upgrade me and Mom to first class. You know how she is on long flights, and I really need to rest.”
Wait, just the two of them? I stared at him, waiting for a joke that didn’t come.
“Let me get this straight. You and your mother are in first class, and I’m in economy with both kids?”
Clark shrugged like it was no big deal. “Oh, come on, it’s just a few hours, Soph. You’ll be fine.”
Then his mom, Nadia, showed up with her designer luggage, smiling. “Oh, Clark, are we ready for our luxurious flight?” She smirked at me, and I swear I could have melted from her gaze.
They left me with the kids and walked off to enjoy their first-class experience. But I wasn’t going to let it slide. As I boarded with the kids, a plan began forming in my mind. This flight was about to get interesting.
When we got to our seats, I noticed the difference between first class and economy immediately. There they were, already sipping champagne while I struggled with our luggage. My five-year-old wanted to sit with Daddy, but I had to explain that “Daddy and Grandma are in a special part of the plane.”
The kids were settled, and I noticed something important—I had Clark’s wallet. Earlier, at the security checkpoint, I had quietly taken his wallet out of his bag without him noticing. I smiled to myself. This was going to be fun.
Two hours into the flight, the kids were asleep, and I was enjoying the quiet. I saw the flight attendants serving gourmet meals in first class. Clark was ordering expensive dishes and top-shelf liquor, indulging in every luxury.
Soon after, I saw Clark frantically searching his pockets. He had realized his wallet was missing. The flight attendant stood there, waiting for him to pay. Clark tried to explain that he couldn’t find his wallet, but the flight attendant wasn’t having it.
Watching this unfold from economy was like my own private show. A flight attendant came by to offer me something, but I just asked for water and some popcorn, ready to enjoy the rest of the drama.
Clark came down to economy, looking worried. He crouched next to my seat and whispered, “Soph, I can’t find my wallet. Do you have any cash?”
I pretended to be concerned. “Oh no! That’s terrible. How much do you need?”
“About $1,500,” he said, wincing.
I nearly laughed out loud. “What did you order, the entire menu?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, panicking. “Do you have it or not?”
I rummaged through my purse. “I’ve got $200. Will that help?”
He took the cash but looked desperate. “Maybe your mom has her credit card?” I suggested sweetly.
Clark went pale. He realized he would have to ask his mom for help. His perfect first-class experience was completely ruined.
For the rest of the flight, Clark and his mom sat in stony silence. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my economy seat with a sense of satisfaction.
As we were landing, Clark made one last trip to economy. “Sophie, are you sure you haven’t seen my wallet?”
I put on my best innocent face. “No, honey. Maybe you left it at home?”
Clark was frustrated, running his hands through his hair. “This is a nightmare.”
“Well,” I said, “at least you got to enjoy first class, right?”
He glared at me. “Yeah, real enjoyable.”
After the flight, Clark was sour, muttering about his missing wallet. His mom disappeared into the bathroom, avoiding the tension. I suggested he might have left it in first class, which didn’t improve his mood.
As we left the airport, I felt a little giddy. I still had his wallet and planned to treat myself to something nice before returning it. A little revenge never hurt anyone.
So, if your partner ever tries to upgrade themselves and leave you behind, a bit of creative payback might just be what you need. After all, in the journey of life, we’re all in this together—whether in first class or economy!
I RETURNED HOME TO FIND MY FURNITURE ON THE CURB — MY EX’S REVENGE WAS A TOTAL FLOP
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.
Leave a Reply