Do you believe in karma? I used to think it was just something people said to make themselves feel better. You know, that whole “Don’t worry, karma will get them” thing. But after what happened with my ex-husband, Dan, I know for a fact that karma is real. And trust me, she has a wicked sense of humor.
Dan and I were married for eight years. Eight years of what I thought was a solid marriage—we had two beautiful kids, a home we worked hard on, and a life that, while not perfect, felt like ours. But as it turned out, I was the only one who believed in “ours.”
I should’ve seen the red flags. But the night I discovered Dan’s betrayal is burned into my memory forever.
Our daughter, Emma, was sick with a fever, and I was searching through Dan’s drawer for the children’s medicine. That’s when I saw it—his phone, lighting up with a message notification. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but something about it caught my eye. A heart emoji followed by “I love you!”
My stomach dropped. I picked up the phone, my hands trembling, and what I found shattered me. Dozens of messages. Intimate words. And all from a woman named Jessica.
“How could you?” I confronted him that night, my voice barely a whisper.
Dan didn’t even flinch. “It just happened,” he shrugged, like we were discussing a minor mistake, not the destruction of our marriage. “These things happen in marriages. It was just harmless fun.”
“Harmless fun? Dan, you made a choice. Over and over again.”
I wanted to believe it was a one-time mistake. That we could fix it. But the second time? That broke every last illusion I had.
“I thought we could work through this,” I told him, holding up the evidence—red lipstick on his collar. I never wore red lipstick. “I thought you meant it when you said ‘never again.’”
Dan sighed. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Would that make you feel better?”
Something inside me snapped. “No. I want you to pack your bags.”
I filed for divorce the next day. And let me tell you, the divorce was brutal. Dan fought for every last penny, every piece of furniture, everything he could. But the house? That was mine. Passed down from my grandmother long before Dan ever came along.
“This is ridiculous!” he fumed during one of our mediation sessions. “I’ve lived in that house for eight years! I put money into it!”
“And it’s still my grandmother’s house,” I replied, calm and unwavering. “The deed is in my name. It always has been.”
Legally, there was no argument. But Dan wasn’t done with his pettiness. When we discussed custody, he delivered the final blow.
“She can have full custody,” he told our lawyer without hesitation. “I don’t want the responsibility.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “They’re your children, Dan! How can you just—”
“They’re better off with you anyway. You’ve always been good at the nurturing stuff.”
I couldn’t believe it. But for the sake of Emma and Jack, I held my head high. I took them to my mom’s house for a week to give Dan time to pack and leave.
“Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?” Emma asked, hugging her stuffed rabbit.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sometimes, sweetheart, grown-ups need time apart to figure things out.”
Jack, my eight-year-old, stood in the doorway. “Will he miss us?”
I forced a smile. “Of course he will.” But deep down, I knew better.
A week later, I returned home with the kids, ready to start our new life. But what I walked into was nothing short of a nightmare.
The wallpaper—our beautiful floral wallpaper—was gone.
The walls were stripped bare, jagged patches of drywall showing like open wounds. My heart pounded as I followed the destruction into the kitchen.
And there he was. Dan. Ripping off another strip of wallpaper, a deranged look in his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shouted.
He turned, completely unfazed. “I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
Jack’s voice trembled. “Daddy, why are you tearing the walls? I loved the flowers!”
Emma started crying. “Daddy, stop!”
I knelt beside them. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll pick out new wallpaper together. Something even prettier. Would you like that?”
“But why is he taking it?” Emma hiccupped.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t break their little hearts even more. Instead, I shot Dan a look sharp enough to cut steel.
He shrugged. “I paid for it. I have every right.”
Fine. Let him have his petty victory. I took the kids and left. When I returned later that evening, it was even worse. He had stripped the kitchen of utensils, taken the toaster, the coffee maker—hell, even the toilet paper.
A month later, I joined a book club. One night, after a couple of glasses of wine, I spilled the whole wallpaper story.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie, one of the women, choked out between laughs.
“Yep! Like a full-blown toddler having a tantrum.”
The whole table erupted in laughter. And for the first time, I laughed too.
Six months later, karma finally made her move.
Dan called me out of nowhere. “I’m getting married next month. Some women actually want to be with me.”
“Congratulations,” I said, then hung up.
A few weeks later, I saw him downtown, holding hands with a woman.
Cassie.
My stomach dropped. She beamed when she saw me. “Oh my gosh, hey! I have so much to tell you! I’m engaged! This is my fiancé, his name is—”
I forced a tight smile. “Yeah. Dan. I know.”
Her face fell. “Wait… how do you know each other?”
Dan looked like he wanted to disappear.
I smirked. “Oh, we go way back.”
Cassie’s eyes darted between us. “Wait a second. That story you told at book club… the one about the wallpaper? About that guy? Is that… him?”
Dan stammered. “Cassie, it’s not—”
“Oh my God. That was YOU?”
Cassie turned to me. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Then she turned back to Dan. “You’re a walking red flag. I can’t believe I almost married you.”
She ripped off her engagement ring and flung it at him before storming off.
I walked away smiling. Karma had delivered.
That night, as I tucked the kids into bed, Jack smiled. “I like our new wallpaper better. The dinosaurs are way cooler. Daddy can keep his old one.”
Emma giggled. “And my butterflies are the prettiest ever!”
I hugged them both. “I think so too.”
And that’s how I learned: you don’t have to chase revenge. Just sit back and let karma do her thing.