My ex-husband once told me, “It’s just harmless fun.” That’s what he called his infidelity. But when he ripped the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have some fun—with him.
Do you believe in karma? To be honest, I used to think it was just something people said to comfort themselves after being hurt. You know, the classic: “Don’t worry, karma will get them.”
Yeah, right. But let me tell you, karma is real. And in my case? She had a WICKED sense of humor.
Let me take you back. My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight years. Eight long years where I thought we had something solid—a home we worked on together, two beautiful kids, and a life that, while not perfect, felt like ours.
But as it turns out, I was the only one in that marriage who believed in “ours.” And looking back, I should’ve seen the red flags.
The night I discovered Dan’s infidelity is burned into my memory.
Our daughter, Emma, had a fever, and I was searching Dan’s drawer for the children’s medicine. Instead, I found his phone. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but a notification flashed across the screen—a heart emoji followed by ‘I love you!’
My stomach twisted. My hands trembled as I opened the messages. Dozens of flirty, intimate texts between Dan and a woman named Jessica.
“How could you?” I whispered, my voice barely holding together as I confronted him that night. “Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?”
He didn’t even look guilty. “It just happened,” he said with a shrug, like we were discussing a grocery list. “These things happen in marriages. It was just some harmless fun with my secretary, Jessica. It won’t happen again, honey. Never! I’m sorry. Trust me.”
“These things happen? No, Dan. They don’t JUST HAPPEN. You made choices. Every single time.”
I wanted to believe it was a mistake. I wanted to forgive. But the second time? The second time shattered any illusion I had left.
One afternoon, I found the evidence—red lipstick on his shirt collar. And the worst part? I hated red lipstick. Never wore it.
“I thought we could work through this,” I said, holding up the shirt in front of him. “I thought you meant it when you said ‘never’ again.”
“What do you want me to say?” He sighed, sounding bored. “That I’m sorry? Would that make you feel better?”
That was it. That was the moment something inside me snapped. “No! I want you to pack your bags.”
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before Dan could even come up with another excuse.
The divorce was brutal, but one thing wasn’t up for discussion: the house. It was mine, passed down from my grandmother long before Dan ever entered my life.
“This is ridiculous!” Dan fumed during mediation. “I’ve lived there for eight years! I put money into that house!”
“And it’s still my grandmother’s house,” I replied calmly. “The deed is in my name, Dan. It always has been.”
Legally, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. But he fought me on everything else—furniture, kitchen appliances, the damn groceries.
And then came the part that broke my heart more than his cheating ever could.
We were discussing custody arrangements when he turned to the lawyer and said, “She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility of raising the kids.”
I gasped. “They’re your children, Dan. How can you just—”
“They’re better off with you anyway,” he interrupted. “You’ve always been the one good at all that nurturing stuff.”
I thought nothing could hurt worse than betrayal. I was wrong.
Dan asked for a week to pack his things. To give him space and spare the kids from seeing him go, I took them to my mom’s.
“Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us?” Emma asked, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
I held her close, forcing a smile. “Sometimes, sweetheart, grown-ups need some time apart to figure things out.”
“But will he miss us?” Jack, my eight-year-old, asked.
“Of course he will,” I lied. “Of course he will.”
When we came back a week later, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.
The wallpaper—our beautiful floral wallpaper—was GONE.
Dan had stripped the walls bare. Patches of drywall peeked through, like an open wound in our home. My stomach sank as I followed the destruction into the kitchen.
And there he was—Dan—ripping off another strip like a madman.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted.
He turned, completely unfazed. “I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
“Dan,” I gritted my teeth. “You’re tearing apart the house your children live in.”
Jack peeked from the hallway, his voice trembling. “Why are you doing that, Daddy? I loved the flowers!”
Tears welled up in his eyes. Emma clung to me, sniffling.
I shot Dan a look that could have set him on fire.
“I paid for it. I have every right to take it!” he huffed.
I took a deep breath, turned to the kids, and whispered, “It’s okay. We’ll pick out new wallpaper together. Something even prettier.”
We left, and when I returned later, Dan had taken everything—kitchen utensils, the coffee maker, even the toilet paper.
But karma wasn’t done with him yet.
Months later, I joined a book club. One night, over wine, I told the wallpaper story.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie, one of the women, choked out, laughing.
“Yes!” I laughed. “I can’t believe I married someone so petty.”
We laughed until our sides hurt. It felt good.
Then, months later, karma struck. I was downtown when I saw Dan… holding hands with Cassie.
Cassie’s face lit up. “Oh my gosh, hey! I have to introduce you to my fiancé! His name is—”
“Dan,” I finished for her.
Her smile faded. “Wait… you know each other?”
I smirked. “Oh, we go way back.”
Cassie blinked. “Wait. The wallpaper guy… it’s YOU?!”
Dan stammered. “Cassie, it’s not what you think—”
“Oh, it’s EXACTLY what I think!” she snapped. “You destroyed your own kids’ home over wallpaper?”
“It was a long time ago,” Dan muttered.
Cassie yanked off her engagement ring and threw it at him. “I can’t believe I almost married you!”
Dan stood there, humiliated. I walked away, smiling.
That night, Jack said, “Mom, remember when Dad took the wallpaper? I like my dinosaurs better anyway.”
Emma grinned. “And my butterflies! They’re the prettiest ever!”
I hugged them close.
Sometimes, you don’t need revenge. Just give karma time—she’s got a great sense of humor.
