Getting an email from my ex-husband’s new wife was the last thing I expected. And definitely not one with a bill attached. A detailed list of so-called “expenses caused by me.” I sat there, staring at my screen, completely speechless. The audacity! But if she thought I would just quietly accept this nonsense, she had another thing coming.
I had been divorced from Matt for two years. Life had moved on, or so I thought.
That was until Stephanie, his new wife, decided it was my responsibility to pay for everything she thought was wrong with Matt when she met him.
Spoiler alert: I wasn’t paying a single cent.
But I did send her a response she’d never forget.
A Love Story That Wasn’t
Ever since our divorce, I’ve been loving my life on my own. I have my cozy little house, my peaceful routine, and most importantly—my freedom. Looking back, I should have made my escape long before we even said, “I do.”
Matt and I were complete opposites in all the ways that truly mattered. I wanted a partner. He wanted… a second mother. And at first, I didn’t see it.
When we were dating, Matt seemed perfect. Stable job, charming smile, a little too into his fantasy football league, but nothing alarming. The first time I visited his apartment, I was impressed.
“Wow, you’re really organized,” I said, looking around his spotless living room.
He grinned. “I try to keep things tidy. It’s just how I am.”
What a joke.
Once we got married and moved in together, the mask slipped. It started small—his wet towel always on the floor.
“Hey, Matt, don’t forget your towel,” I said, picking it up.
“Sorry, babe,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “I’ll be more careful.”
Spoiler: He wasn’t.
Soon, it wasn’t just the towel. Dirty clothes everywhere, dishes piling up, half-finished projects cluttering every surface. Every day, I was picking up after him like a maid.
Then he lost his job.
“They were too strict anyway,” he shrugged. “I’ll find something better.”
But he didn’t.
Instead, he started a side gig that made next to nothing while I worked full-time to cover all the bills. I booked his doctor appointments, reminded him to call his mom, even rewrote his resume because he couldn’t be bothered.
One night, after cleaning up yet another one of his messes, I found myself Googling, “how to encourage a grown man to be responsible.”
That was when it hit me. I wasn’t his wife—I was his mother.
And just like that, I was done.
Our divorce was civil. Or so I thought. We split everything, I moved out, and I thought I’d never have to deal with him again.
Then came Stephanie.
The New Wife with a Score to Settle
Stephanie is… a character. The kind of person who floods social media with daily “queen energy” quotes and posts about self-love—but somehow always makes it sound passive-aggressive.
I had no reason to interact with her, except for one bizarre moment before their wedding.
One day, I got a wedding invitation in the mail. Odd, considering I hadn’t spoken to Matt since the divorce. I RSVP’d “no” and thought that was the end of it.
Then, Stephanie called me.
“Hi, Emma! This is Stephanie,” she said, voice way too cheerful. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”
“Uh… no, I guess not,” I said. “What’s up?”
“Well, since you were such a big part of Matt’s life, I thought it would be nice to include some photos of you two in our wedding slideshow! You know, to show his ‘journey in love.’”
I almost dropped my phone. “I’m sorry… what?”
“Oh, and could you also share some details about what he likes? His favorite meals, hobbies? It would really help me personalize my vows.”
Was she serious?
“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” I said, barely holding back laughter. “But best of luck with your wedding.”
I should’ve blocked her then and there. But curiosity kept me watching from the sidelines.
From what I heard, their wedding was just as dramatic as expected. The maid of honor’s speech took a not-so-subtle dig at me:
“Matt’s finally found a real partner!” she toasted.
The wedding slideshow featured a “before and after” transformation of Matt’s life, as if his time with me was some dark era of suffering.
Embarrassing. For them.
The Invoice That Started It All
A few months later, I got an email. Subject line: Invoice for Outstanding Expenses.
I thought, This has to be spam.
But it wasn’t.
Stephanie had sent me a detailed bill with expenses I had “caused” during my marriage to Matt.
Some highlights:
$300 for Matt’s eye doctor appointment: “Because you didn’t notice his vision was deteriorating.”
$2,500 for a new wardrobe: “Because his clothes were outdated—a reflection of neglect.”
$200 for therapy: “To undo the emotional damage caused by your lack of support.”
$1,000 for a new mattress: “To replace the one you bought, which gave him back pain.”
The total? Over $5,000.
She ended it with: As his wife, I’ve invested heavily in fixing him. It’s only fair you contribute.
I was in shock.
Then I laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more.
And then I got to work.
The Best Reply Ever
I sent her a counter-invoice.
Subject: Response to Invoice for Outstanding Expenses
Dear Stephanie,
Thank you for your email. It truly gave me a laugh! However, I believe there are some expenses you forgot.
$10,000 for managing all household responsibilities while Matt played video games for five years.
$15,000 for emotional labor, including reminding him to call his mom, pay his bills, and be an adult.
$5,000 for lost brain cells from listening to his “business ideas” (like the app that matches people based on their favorite pizza toppings).
Total: $30,000. Payable in full by next Friday.
Warm regards,
Your predecessor
I CC’d a few mutual friends for fun.
Within hours, my phone blew up with messages. “Emma, this is legendary.” “I’m framing this!”
Stephanie? Not thrilled. She tried to explain herself, but the more she talked, the worse she looked.
Even Matt called me.
“Emma… I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I had no idea she’d do that.”
“Matt,” I said, “just make sure you pay that invoice.”
The best part? At a party weeks later, someone asked Matt if he ever paid me back for “emotional labor.”
He turned bright red and left early.
Now, anytime someone mentions Stephanie, people just say, “Oh, you mean the one with the bill?”
And honestly? I regret nothing.