My ex-husband once told me, “It’s just harmless fun.” That’s how he explained his cheating. But when he ripped the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have some fun — with him. And let me tell you, karma was ruthless… and hilarious.
Do you believe in karma? Honestly, I used to think it was just a phrase people said to make themselves feel better after being hurt. Things like: “Don’t worry, karma will get them.” Yeah, sure. That’s what I thought… until karma came knocking on Dan’s door.
Let me take you back. My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight years.
Eight years filled with what I thought was love and partnership — a house we worked on together, two amazing kids, and a life that felt solid, if not perfect. But as it turns out, I was the only one who really believed in “ours.”
The first red flag? The night I discovered his betrayal. Our daughter, Emma, was sick with a high fever, and I was rifling through Dan’s drawer for the kids’ medicine. Instead, I found his phone. I wasn’t snooping… or at least, I told myself that. But then a notification lit up the screen: a heart emoji followed by “I love you!”
I froze. My hand shook as I opened it, and that’s when I saw the hundreds of texts between him and a woman named Jessica.
“How could you?” I whispered into the dark, my heart breaking. “Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?”
He looked at me like I’d just asked about the weather. “It just happened,” he said with a shrug. “Some harmless fun with Jessica. It won’t happen again, honey. Never! I’m sorry. Trust me.”
“These things happen?” I said, voice shaking. “No, Dan. They don’t just happen. You chose this. Every single time.”
The first time, I convinced myself it was a mistake. I thought we could fix it. Forgiveness seemed like the brave thing to do. But the second time? The second time shattered every illusion I had.
“I thought we could work through this,” I said, holding up his shirt, the collar marked with a lipstick stain — red, a color I never wore.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, voice lazy. “That I’m sorry? Would that make you feel better?”
Something inside me snapped. “No! I want you to pack your bags.”
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before he could even mumble another excuse.
The divorce itself was brutal. But the house? That was mine — passed down from my grandmother long before Dan had stepped into the picture.
“This is ridiculous!” Dan shouted during mediation. “I’ve lived here eight years. I’ve put money into this house!”
“It’s still my grandmother’s house,” I said calmly, watching him fume. “The deed is in my name. Always has been.”
Legally, there was no argument. He insisted on splitting everything else 50/50 — groceries, vacations, furniture. Penny by penny, he wanted “fairness.”
The worst moment? Custody.
“She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility,” he said flatly to our lawyer.
Our children, Emma and Jack, were in the next room. My heart broke. “They’re your children,” I hissed. “How can you just—”
“They’re better off with you anyway,” he interrupted. “You’ve always been the nurturing one.”
After the papers were signed, Dan asked for a week to pack. I took the kids to my mom’s to keep them out of the chaos.
“Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?” Emma asked, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
“Sometimes, grown-ups need time apart to figure things out,” I said softly, fighting tears.
“But will he miss us?” Jack asked from the doorway.
“Of course he will,” I lied, my heart breaking again.
When the week ended, I returned home… and my worst nightmare awaited.
The wallpaper. Gone. Our beautiful floral wallpaper, stripped from the walls. Jagged patches of drywall stared back at me like wounds. I followed the chaos to the kitchen… and there was Dan, tearing strips like a man possessed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
“I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine,” he said casually.
“Dan,” I said, trying not to scream, “you’re ripping apart the kids’ home.”
“Mom?” Jack’s voice trembled. “Why is Dad doing that?”
“I loved the flowers! They were pretty!” Emma cried.
I knelt beside them. “Hey, it’s okay. We can pick new ones together, something even prettier. Would you like that?”
Dan shrugged. “I have all the right to destroy it.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine. Do what you want,” I muttered and ushered the kids back to the car.
That evening, the destruction was worse. He’d taken kitchen utensils, the toaster, the coffee maker, even the toilet paper. Everything he bought with his own money vanished.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, refusing to give him the satisfaction of anger.
Months later, I joined a book club. Just to get out of the house. To feel human again. But those women became my lifeline.
One night, after a couple of glasses of wine, I told the wallpaper story.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie, one of the women, gasped between laughs.
“Yes!” I laughed. “I can’t believe I married someone so ridiculous.”
“Girl,” Cassie said, wiping tears, “you dodged a bullet. Who rips wallpaper from walls? He’s an overgrown toddler!”
The room erupted in laughter. For the first time, I laughed too.
“You know the worst part?” I confided, “explaining it to the kids. How do you tell them their father cares more about wallpaper than them?”
“Children are resilient,” Betty said, squeezing my hand. “They’ll remember who stayed, who put them first. That’s what matters.”
I whispered, thinking of Emma and Jack, “I hope so.”
Karma, of course, wasn’t done.
Six months later, Dan called.
“Hey, I’m getting married next month. Found a gorgeous bombshell,” he said smugly.
“Congratulations,” I said, calm as glass. Hung up.
Weeks later, I was downtown, enjoying a rare solo outing. And there they were: Dan and his fiancée. Holding hands. Smiling.
Until I realized… it was Cassie from my book club.
“Oh my gosh, hey!” she said, tugging Dan. “This is my fiancé, his name is—”
“Yeah, Dan. I know,” I said, smiling faintly.
Cassie froze. “Wait… you know each other?”
Dan’s jaw clenched.
“Oh, we go way back,” I said casually.
Her eyes narrowed. “That story about the wallpaper… that guy? That was you?”
Dan stammered. “Cassie, it’s not what you think—”
“It’s exactly what I think!” she snapped. “You ripped wallpaper from your kids’ home? Who does that? And the lies? The cheating? Unbelievable!”
She turned to me. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I had no idea.”
Then she whirled back to Dan. “You’re a walking red flag. I can’t believe I almost married you!”
And she stormed off, leaving him dumbstruck, staring at the engagement ring she’d just thrown.
I smiled faintly and walked away. That was damage enough. Karma had served justice.
That night, tucking my kids into bed, Jack said, “Mom, remember when Dad took all the wallpaper?”
“Yeah,” I said, bracing for sadness.
“I’m glad we picked new ones together. The dinosaurs in my room are way cooler!”
Emma chimed in. “And my butterflies! They’re the prettiest!”
I looked at our colorful walls, now telling our story. I pulled them close. “You know what? I think so too.”
And that’s when I truly believed: you don’t need to chase revenge. Just give karma some time. She’s got a wicked sense of humor, and she never forgets.