When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.
We’ve all heard of crazy boyfriend or ex-boyfriend stories—I mean, when I was in college, it was a common sleepover story.
I’ve heard of the boyfriend who wanted to taste everything his girlfriend ate—before she did. And an ex-boyfriend who demanded that his ex-girlfriend help him study for finals because it was her fault that he wasn’t able to concentrate.
But I didn’t expect my relationship to turn into one of those stories.
I had been dating Henry for two years. We had met in college at a party and after a night of drunken conversation over fries, we ended up dating.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect—in fact, over the course of it, we had broken up three times.
“Come on, Kyra,” Henry said. “We either get back together or we break up for good.”
It was the defining moment in our relationship because Henry was the one who wanted to call the shots. He wanted us to stay together, and I wanted us to call it a day.
Over the years, Henry and I had gotten into enough fights, motivating me to turn to therapy to help me cope with the stress of it.
“And yet,” my friend Brent said, “you still remain with him.”
It was just another ordinary Friday evening and Henry had come over to my place. We were going to eat pizza and watch series until we fell asleep.
A few hours into the evening, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and I casually reached over to grab his phone to check the time.
But I was completely unprepared for everything that followed.
Just as I picked up Henry’s phone, his screen lit up with a text message from another girl.
Hey, babe! See you later or are we meeting tomorrow?
“Hey, who’s this?” I asked, nudging him awake and handing him the phone with a puzzled look.
Henry snatched the phone from my hand in a fury, his face clouding over.
“Kyra, why are you reading my messages?” he snapped, his tone defensive.
“I was just looking for the time,” I stammered. “My phone is on charge in the kitchen. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”
Henry stood up, took a swig of his now room-temperature beer, and paced around my living room.
“This is my private stuff, Kyra,” he accused. “You shouldn’t be looking at all.”
Before I could process what was happening, Henry began putting his shoes on, and then he made a final decision about our relationship.
“I think we’re done here. I can’t trust you anymore!”
And with that, he left my apartment.
Stunned, I watched him leave. We were over in the blink of an eye after two years.
I couldn’t understand if I felt relief or devastation. I would miss Henry, of course, but at the same time—I didn’t think that this was the worst thing.
Henry had been emotionally manipulating me for a long time, but I had felt a familiarity with him. And that had made it easier to stay with him.
It was the comfort of being with a familiar person, despite the heartache that came with them.
I could hear my mother’s words loud in my head.
“Kyra,” she would say, “You’re too smart to be playing a game like this. Let go of the dead weight. Henry has been nothing but dead weight since your first big fight.”
And she would be correct.
I decided to take a shower, I needed to lull my body into a sense of relaxation so that I could just let go and sleep.
And then it truly dawned on me—the reason for the breakup now was because I had caught Henry cheating on me. At first, I was too stunned. I was stunned by the fact that he had walked out on me.
But I finally managed to realize that he had actually been dating another woman. And had no idea how long it had been going on for.
The thought was too much for me to comprehend. I had so many questions running through my mind—how long had Henry been cheating on me? Who was the other person? What would have happened if I hadn’t found out?
The next few days were a complete blur—I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was untied to Henry. But at the same time, I felt hollow and a bit raw.
I found myself crying—not for Henry, but for myself. And through it all, I couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
While making a cup of tea, an email pinged on my laptop, signaling me to my desk.
It was from Henry.
Hoping for an apology, I opened it immediately—only to find a detailed bill listing every single expense that Henry claimed to have incurred on my behalf over the duration of our relationship.
Kyra, please make the payment soon. I need to move on, and you need to make things right with me. I cannot believe I wasted so much time and money on you.
I saw red—a hazy fury took over my sight. My head pounded, and my heart was ready to burst with the flood of feelings that were unleashed by Henry’s email.
“This is insane!” I screamed at the screen.
I shut off my laptop and made myself some soup. Henry and his delusional state of mind could wait. I wasn’t going to pay anything back. I was done with him.
As I cut up some garlic bread, I had an idea.
My friend, Brent, who hated Henry—was a lawyer and he loved a challenge.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, calling him while I waited for the soup to get ready. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with Henry, and I think I need to hit back with something clever.”
Brent was intrigued. He chuckled and asked me to explain.
“Tell me everything, Kyra,” he said.
The next day, I met Brent at a coffee shop, where we planned on thinking up the next step where I could get back at Henry.
Brent ordered us coffee and pastries, while I pulled up the email from Henry.
As we laid out his claims against my emotional tolls—the late-night anxiety, the therapy costs—he burst out laughing.
“This is actually genius. Let’s draft up a counter-invoice.”
Our response was meticulously calculated, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction sending it back to him.
This inspired me to start a blog about my journey of recovery and empowerment. To my surprise, the blog resonated with many, and soon, a publisher reached out with an interest in turning my experiences into a book.
On the other hand, Henry’s pursuit for repayment dwindled, especially once he realized the potential public fallout and legal ramifications.
“I cannot believe that you did that, Kyra,” Henry said. “People are messaging me constantly now. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why would you post the invoice I sent you? You owe me!”
I sat in front of the TV and let Henry vent on speaker.
I had absolutely no intention of explaining myself. My blog did expose him—and sure, I did post the invoice. But it was my way of healing through the entire ordeal.
But as always, Henry had to make it about himself. He commented on some of the blog posts, stating that I was yet to pay him for everything.
In reply, other readers let him have it—calling him out on his selfishness.
When Brent came over for dinner, he sat down and chuckled.
“Looks like Henry got the message,” Brent said. “He has dropped all demands. It seems like he just didn’t want to risk any further exposure.”
In the end, not only did I manage to counter his pettiness with strength, but I also carved out a new path for myself.
This wasn’t just about a breakup recovery—it was a rebirth.
What would you have done?
I Discovered My MIL Living in Our Attic — What She Was Hiding Shocked Me
When Ella hears strange noises coming from her attic while her husband, Aaron, is away, she fears the worst. But nothing could prepare her for the shocking discovery of her mother-in-law, Diane, hiding upstairs… What is going on?
It all started about a month ago, right after my husband, Aaron, left for a weeklong work trip. I’d never minded being alone in our cozy suburban house before, until the noises started.
A man walking out of a house | Source: Midjourney
At first, it was just the occasional soft thud from above. I brushed it off, telling myself the house was just settling. And if I’m being honest, our attic wasn’t really an attic.
It was a room on the third floor that had large windows that Aaron and I had boarded up when we moved in, and there was a thin balcony with a staircase leading to the ground floor.
We assumed that it was a sunroom or an art studio before we moved in.
An empty room | Source: Midjourney
I always planned on turning the space into something for myself, but the opportunity just never presented itself.
I heard another sound, and my breath caught. Old houses creak, right? Maybe a squirrel or two had found their way into the attic. But then, the sounds became more frequent, and more… human.
Whispering, faint but unmistakable.
A squirrell in an attic | Source: Midjourney
One night, lying in bed scrolling through my phone, I heard it.
There it was, a low, guttural moan. My stomach twisted, my breath catching in my throat.
This wasn’t a squirrel. No way.
I grabbed my phone and texted Aaron immediately.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I think something, or someone, is in the attic!
His reply was just as immediate:
Ella, it’s probably nothing. I’ll check when I get back.
His casual response annoyed me. How could he be so dismissive?
I resolved to ignore the noises, telling myself I was overreacting.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
But a few days later, when I was getting ready for bed, I heard footsteps. Like real, heavy footsteps above me.
That was the breaking point. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait for Aaron to come home anymore. What was the point? There could have been someone sleeping under the same roof as me the entire time! I no longer felt safe.
Grabbing the baseball bat we kept in the garage for emergencies, I texted him again, letting him know I was going up to investigate.
A baseball bat in a garage | Source: Midjourney
His response chilled me to the bone.
Ella, please, love. Wait for me to check the attic. It’s really important that I do it.
Why wouldn’t he want me to go up there? What did he know? My mind spun with questions. Was he hiding something? Was I in danger?
Was someone squatting in our home?
A woman looking concerned | Source: Midjourney
Despite the knot tightening in my stomach, I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know for myself.
With every creaky step up the narrow staircase, my heart pounded harder. I gripped the bat like it was my lifeline and pushed open the door to the attic.
The sight in front of me made me freeze.
There she was. My mother-in-law, Diane!
A narrow staircase | Source: Midjourney
She was standing in the middle of the attic, dressed in a nightgown and robe, holding a paintbrush like a deer caught in headlights.
“What on earth are you doing here?” I shrieked, almost falling over my own feet. “Why did you moan? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
What was going on? Seriously.
An older woman holding paintbrushes | Source: Midjourney
Diane’s face flushed with embarrassment as she dropped the brush and held up her hands.
“Ella! Calm down! It’s not what you think!”
“Not what I think? I don’t even know what I think, Diane! You’re living in my attic?”
She sighed and rubbed her temples, muttering under her breath.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I knew this was going to happen, but Aaron just doesn’t listen. Just… just sit down for a second. I’ll explain everything.”
I didn’t move, still gripping the bat, as if for moral support.
My mother-in-law was an assertive woman who rarely seemed fazed by anything. Seeing her look this sheepish was unsettling. After a beat, I slowly lowered myself onto a dusty box, keeping my eyes on her.
A dusty wooden box | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, look,” she began, her voice tinged with guilt. “Your husband is going to kill me for ruining the surprise. But you deserve to know, Ella. Aaron’s been working on something special for you!”
I raised my eyebrow.
“What kind of special involves you squatting in my attic? Are you the new resident ghost?”
She winced.
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m not squatting! Aaron wanted to create a space for you. Like… a space where you could finally turn your baking hobby into something more. He decided to renovate the attic into a studio.”
That caught me off guard.
“What? A studio?”
A woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“For your dream, Ella,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Look, this is an attic where we would be able to cook or bake up here. There’s enough room. Aaron wanted to surprise you with a space where you could bake, experiment, and maybe even start selling your creations. But he’s been terrible with design! So he asked me to come over and help. Every day, after you leave for work, I come in and oversee the contractors.”
“Contractors?” I asked.
I felt stupid. Diane was saying things, but my brain just wasn’t processing any of it.
Contractors working in a room | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, contractors. We’ve sorted out the plumbing so that you’ll have a fully functional kitchen. The electricians are coming in next week to sort out the plugs. And I’ve been coming in to decorate and paint and all those cute things…”
Aaron and Diane had been hiding this? Also, how had I not noticed any of it? Was I seriously that aloof?
“But why stay here?” I asked, still suspicious. “In the attic?”
An electrician working | Source: Midjourney
“In the studio, you mean?” she said. “I wasn’t actually staying here full-time. I just kept coming and going through the balcony and the staircase on the side. I didn’t want to keep dropping by and risk you catching on.”
“And the moaning and groaning?” I asked.
Diane bit her lip, looking truly mortified.
An older woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
“I completely underestimated how tough this would be on my back. The moans were me… stretching, darling.”
I stared at her, trying to reconcile the bizarre reality in front of me. Slowly, I took in the space. The attic, though still a work in progress, was beautiful.
The huge windows were cleaned, all the dust and grime removed, and I could imagine the light streaming in during the day. It would be perfect.
A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
I took in the half-painted walls which bore whimsical murals of cupcakes and rolling pins. Sketches were pinned everywhere, showing shelves for ingredients, a central island for prep work, and a cozy sitting area by the windows.
Pinned on one board was a blueprint with a title in Aaron’s handwriting:
Ella’s Baking Studio
Sketches on a wall | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened.
“This is really for me?” I asked.
Diane nodded, her face softening.
“He wanted you to have a space where you could do what you love. He’s been feeling guilty about how busy he’s been with work. He thought this would show how much he appreciates everything you do.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I sat there in stunned silence as tears pricked my eyes.
Days of paranoia, thinking there was some dark secret lurking in our attic… only to find this?
A gift born from love and thoughtfulness?
Later that evening, Aaron called. I could hear the tension in his voice when he spoke.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Ella, please tell me that you didn’t go up there. I’ll ask Kevin from next door to check.”
“I did,” I admitted. “Aaron… I don’t even know what to say.”
There was a beat of silence, followed by a soft laugh.
“Well, there goes the surprise.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t deserve this,” I admitted.
“According to whom?” he asked. “You’re the glue that holds our family together, Ella. This is just my way of showing you how much I love you. And that you don’t have to stay at your job if you don’t want to. This can be your new start.”
When Aaron came home a few days later, we all worked together to finish the studio. Diane proved invaluable; her eye for décor was something else.
A mural painted onto a wall | Source: Midjourney
The space turned out better than I could have imagined. Every time I step into that sun-kissed studio, surrounded by shelves lined with jars of baking delights, I’m reminded of the love that went into it.
Diane and I have grown closer since that day, though I still tease her about the “attic residency” moment in our lives.
Sometimes, life’s twists aren’t about shocking betrayals or sinister secrets; they’re about uncovering the quiet, unexpected ways the people around us show their love.
A beautiful baking studio | Source: Midjourney
Brenda thought her marriage to a widower would be her chance to build a loving, blended family. But when her young stepson insists his “real mom” is still living in their house, strange occurrences and hidden secrets force Brenda to question everything she thought she knew about her new family.
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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