I used to think karma was just a myth, a way to make ourselves feel better after someone wrongs us. But I’ve come to realize that karma is very real, and it has a wicked sense of humor.
My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight long years. It was a marriage filled with lies, infidelity, and heartbreak. But the final blow came when I discovered his second betrayal. That’s when I knew I had to leave.
The divorce was a messy one, with Dan demanding a 50/50 split of everything. But there was one thing he couldn’t take: our house. It had been passed down to me from my grandmother, and it was mine alone.
Or so I thought.
When I returned home after a week of staying with my mom, I was met with a scene from a horror movie. The walls, once beautifully adorned with floral wallpaper, were stripped bare. Dan had taken everything, including the toilet paper.
I was furious, but I refused to give Dan the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin. Instead, I joined a book club and found a new support system.
It was there that I met Cassie, a woman who would become a close friend. And it was there that I shared my story, the one about Dan and the wallpaper.
Little did I know, Cassie would soon become entangled in Dan’s web of lies.
Six months after our divorce, Dan called me to announce his engagement to a new woman. I congratulated him, but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of unease.
It wasn’t until I ran into Dan and his fiancée on the street that I realized the truth. The woman was Cassie, my friend from the book club.
Cassie was oblivious to Dan’s past, and it was clear that he had lied to her about me and our divorce. But when she found out the truth, she was furious.
“You’re a walking red flag,” she hissed at Dan. “I’m glad I dodged that bullet.”
And with that, she stormed off, leaving Dan standing alone, his engagement ring rejected.
As I watched Dan’s world crumble around him, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Karma had finally caught up with him, and it was a beautiful thing to see.
That evening, as I tucked my kids into bed, they reminded me of the good that had come from Dan’s destruction. We had picked out new wallpaper together, and it was beautiful.
“I’m glad we got to pick out the new ones together,” my son said, smiling. “The dinosaurs in my room are way cooler than those old flowers. Daddy can keep that wallpaper to himself!”
I smiled, feeling a sense of closure. Sometimes, you don’t need to chase revenge. Just give karma a little time, and it’ll serve justice with a side of poetic irony.
