My ex-husband once told me, “It’s just harmless fun.” That’s what he called cheating. Can you believe that? Cheating is fun now. But when he tore the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have some fun — and she did it with style.
Do you believe in karma? I used to think it was just something people said to make themselves feel better after being hurt. People would shrug and say, “Don’t worry, karma will get them.” I’d nod, but secretly, I thought it was a comforting fairy tale.
Yeah… I was wrong. 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 truly believed we had something solid — a home we worked on together, two beautiful kids, and a life that, while not perfect, felt ours.
Turns out, I was the only one who believed in ours. I should have seen the red flags.
Because the night I discovered Dan’s cheating is burned into my memory forever.
Our daughter, Emma, had a fever. I was rummaging through Dan’s drawer for the kids’ medicine when I saw his phone. I wasn’t looking for trouble, but a notification blinked at me: a heart emoji and the words “I love you!”
I couldn’t resist. I opened it. My heart shattered. There were dozens of flirty, intimate texts between him and a woman named Jessica.
“How could you?” I whispered that night, hands trembling as I confronted him. “Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?”
He shrugged, as if we were discussing the weather. “It just happened,” he said. “These things happen in marriages. It was just harmless fun with my secretary, Jessica. Won’t happen again, honey. Never! I’m sorry. Trust me.”
“No, Dan,” I said, my voice shaking. “These things don’t just happen. You made choices. Every single time.”
The first time, I fooled myself. I told myself it was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. Maybe we could fix it. Forgiveness, I told myself, was strong.
But the second time? The second time broke me.
“I thought we could work through this,” I said, holding up the evidence of his second betrayal — red lipstick on his collar. I never wore red lipstick. Never.
“I thought you meant it when you said ‘never again.’”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, bored. “That I’m sorry? Would that help?”
Something inside me snapped. “No. Pack your bags,” I said.
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before he could come up with another excuse.
The divorce was brutal, of course. But the house? That was mine. It had been passed down from my grandmother long before Dan entered our lives.
“This is ridiculous!” Dan yelled during mediation. “I’ve lived here eight years! I put money into this house!”
“And it’s still my grandmother’s house,” I replied calmly, watching him fume. “The deed is in my name. Always has been.”
He tried to argue everything else — furniture, vacations, groceries — demanded fairness down to the last penny.
And the custody? The cruelest moment. He looked at the lawyer with no emotion. “She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility of raising the kids.”
Our kids, Emma and Jack, were right there. My heart broke for them.
“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 paperwork, he asked for a week to pack. I took the kids to my mom’s to spare them the sight.
The night before we left, Emma held her stuffed rabbit. “Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?”
I held her close, fighting tears. “Sometimes, sweetheart, grown-ups need time apart to figure things out.”
“But will he miss us?” Jack asked.
“Of course he will,” I lied.
A week later, I returned home, ready to start our new chapter. And then… nightmare.
The wallpaper was gone. Our gorgeous floral wallpaper, carefully chosen, was stripped bare. Jagged drywall stared back at me. I followed the trail to the kitchen.
There he was—Dan—tearing off more wallpaper like a man possessed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
He turned, unfazed. “I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
“Dan, you’re destroying the kids’ home!”
“Mom?” Jack’s voice trembled. “Why is Dad doing that to our walls?”
“He loved the flowers! Why are you tearing the wallpaper, Daddy?” Emma sobbed.
I knelt down. “It’s okay. We’ll pick new wallpaper together. Something even prettier. Would you like that?”
“But why is he taking it?” Emma asked, still crying.
Dan shrugged. “I paid for it. I have the right to destroy it.”
I sighed, shielding the kids from the chaos. “Fine. Do what you want.” Then I took the kids to the car.
That evening, I returned. It was worse. He had stripped the kitchen, taken the toaster, the coffee maker, even the toilet paper. Practically everything he bought.
“You’re unbelievable!” I muttered.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
Months later, I joined a book club. At first, just a way to get out. Then, it became my lifeline.
One night, after a few glasses of wine, I spilled the wallpaper story.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie laughed so hard she cried.
“Yes!” I said, laughing myself. “I can’t believe I married someone so ridiculous.”
“Girl,” Cassie said, wiping tears, “you dodged a bullet. Who does that? A grown man ripping wallpaper? Overgrown toddler!”
We laughed until it hurt. The first time I truly laughed about it.
“You know what was the worst?” I confessed. “Trying to explain it to the kids. How do you tell your children their father cared more about wallpaper than them?”
Betty, another member, squeezed my hand. “Children remember who stayed, who put them first. That’s what matters.”
I whispered, thinking of Emma and Jack. “I hope so.”
Karma, of course, was just warming up.
Six months passed. Life settled. The kids thrived. Dan barely crossed my mind. Until one day…
“Hey,” he called out of the blue, smug. “I’m getting married next month. Found a gorgeous bombshell!”
“Congratulations,” I said evenly, then hung up.
Weeks later, downtown, I saw him holding hands with a woman. At first, I thought, fiancée. Then I saw her face.
It was Cassie. My book club friend.
“Oh my gosh, hey!” she said, tugging him forward. “This is such a small world! I have so much to tell you! I’m engaged! This is my fiancé, Dan…”
I forced a tight smile. “Yeah, Dan. I know.”
Cassie blinked. “Wait… you know each other?”
Dan looked like he wanted to vanish.
“Oh, we go way back,” I said casually.
Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “The wallpaper story… the one you told at book club… is that… him?”
Dan panicked. His face said it all.
She whirled to him. “Oh my God… that was you?”
“It’s not what you think—” he pleaded.
“It is what I think,” she snapped. “You ripped the walls of your kids’ home over wallpaper? Who does that?”
“It was a long time ago,” he stammered.
“Not a big deal? And the lies? The cheating? You’re unbelievable!”
She turned to me. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I had no idea.”
Then she spun back to Dan. “You’re a walking red flag. I can’t believe I almost married you.”
And just like that, she stormed off, leaving him dumbstruck, staring at the engagement ring she’d just flung.
He glared at me. I smiled faintly. Karma had done her work.
That night, tucking in the kids, Jack said, “Mom, remember when Dad took all the wallpaper?”
I braced for sadness. Instead, he grinned. “I’m glad we picked the new ones together. Dinosaurs in my room are way cooler than those old flowers. Daddy can keep that wallpaper to himself!”
Emma nodded. “And my butterflies! The prettiest ever!”
I looked at our colorful walls, full of new memories. “You know what? I think so too.”
That day, I learned: you don’t need revenge. Just give karma some time — she’ll serve justice, often with a side of poetic irony.