When Mia’s stepmom, Trudy, planned a massive, extravagant birthday party for her 45th, Mia knew she’d be pulled into helping—quietly, behind the scenes. What Trudy didn’t realize, though, was that karma had other plans for her, and it was about to serve a lesson she’d never forget.
Prepare yourself, because this is one of those moments where everything falls into place, and trust me, it’s deeply satisfying.
Let’s get acquainted with the people in this story. I’m Mia, 16, living with my dad and my stepmom, Trudy. Trudy’s been part of the family for two years, and she’s settled perfectly into the role of a wicked stepmother. Seriously, she’s a walking symbol of entitlement.
Living with her is like being trapped in a bad reality show—minus the camera crew and the paycheck.
My dad? He’s more of a “peacekeeper,” the type who believes in “happy wife, happy life.” But Trudy? She’s always acting like everyone should bow down to her.
Last Saturday was her big birthday party. Trudy went all out, treating the day like some royal event. The party was more of a wedding reception than a simple birthday celebration. The whole week, she walked around like a queen getting ready for her big day.
“Mia, you better get me something special this year,” she said one morning as I made my smoothie. “How about a dishwasher? I’ve done a lot for you.”
Oh, Trudy. By “a lot,” she meant treating me like I was Cinderella before she found her fairy godmother.
“Uh, Trudy,” I answered, still blending my smoothie, “I’m saving up for my prom dress.”
Her face twisted in disbelief. “Your prom dress? That’s silly! Just get something cheap from the store. A dishwasher is way more useful. And I don’t want to hear any excuses.”
Excuses? She actually expected me to drop my prom dress savings for her new dishwasher? Where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?
To make things worse, Trudy convinced my dad that I was “too young” to get a real job. Babysitting was all I could do to make money, and I barely had enough for my dress, let alone a dishwasher.
The day of the party finally arrived. The house was buzzing with caterers, an event planner, and floral displays that made the place look like a greenhouse. Meanwhile, I was stuck wiping down mirrors and setting up drink stations, just trying to stay out of the way.
When her friends showed up, Trudy put on her best act. She threw around fake smiles and soaked in the compliments like a sponge. “Mia! Refill the drinks!” she yelled across the room. Of course, I had to obey.
I floated through the party like a ghost, counting down the minutes until the cake was cut and this nightmare would end.
Eventually, I grabbed a plate of food and found a quiet spot to hide. My dad found me there and chuckled, “Taking a break, Mimi? Let me get you one of those fancy milkshakes from the milkshake bar.”
Then, it was time for the cake. My dad lit the candles while Trudy danced around, smiling like she’d won the lottery. But as the night started winding down, Trudy clinked her wine glass, and with that all-too-familiar smirk, she made her move.
“Mia, since you didn’t bother to buy me a dishwasher, the least you can do is wash all these dishes.”
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me. My heart sank—did she seriously just say that?
“You didn’t get your mom a gift?” one of her friends chimed in, with fake sympathy. “That’s so rude!”
I swallowed hard and kept my voice calm. “Trudy, I told you—I’m saving for prom.”
She waved me off. “Just wash the dishes, Mia. Do something useful.”
I wanted to scream, but instead, I forced a smile. “Fine.” I spent the next hour scrubbing dishes, my frustration building with every swipe of the sponge.
The next morning, I was jolted awake by Trudy’s shrieking. I rushed downstairs to find her standing in the middle of a flooded kitchen, looking panicked.
“What happened?” I asked, still half-asleep.
“The pipes! The kitchen’s ruined!” Trudy screamed, throwing her arms in the air.
Apparently, she had poured meat oil down the sink after the party and tried to flush it with drain cleaner, which completely wrecked the pipes.
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. Oh, the sweet taste of karma.
For the entire week, the kitchen was unusable. The repairs were so expensive that my dad announced they’d have to cut back on some things.
“Except for Mia,” he said. “I’ve set aside $500 for her prom dress.”
Trudy was furious. “You’re spoiling her, David! What about the kitchen tiles?”
“You spoiled yourself with that party. I can spoil my daughter for her prom,” he replied, firm for once.
Trudy fumed but finally backed off. She even agreed to let me get a part-time job and tried to make amends.
“I’ll help you find a prom dress,” she offered, smiling for real this time.
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