The dilapidated fishing boat rocked gently against the wharf as Lucas tied the final knot.
The modest cottage on the village outskirts awaited him, as it had every evening since Maria passed. There was no laughing from children, no warm hug, just the silent companionship of his thoughts and images of the lady he adored but couldn’t replace.
He looked at Maria’s portrait on the mantel. “Should’ve listened when you wanted children,” he said quietly. “Always said we had time. Now look at me, talking to your picture like you might answer back.”
Suddenly, a faint but clear sound interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like a whimper or cry carried by the wintry wind.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw it: a woven basket on his porch, with blankets stirring inside.
“Dear God,” he muttered, taking the bundle in his arms. A baby boy, no more than a few months old, looked up at him with wide, interested eyes.
“Where did you come from, little one?” Lucas searched the vacant street, but whoever had left this valuable cargo had long gone, leaving only a note in the basket:
“Don’t look for me. Please take care of him. And love him like your own. Thanks & Goodbye.”
A tear streamed down Lucas’ cheek as he remembered Maria’s comments from years ago: “A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
“Matias,” he whispered gently, the name returning to him like a whisper from the past. It was Maria’s father’s name, a good, robust name for a son. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
That night, Lucas constructed a makeshift crib out of an old wooden crate, filling it with nice blankets. He placed it next to his bed, unable to stomach the notion of leaving the infant alone in another room.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The infant slept soundly, one little hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if it knew he was home.
Seventeen years passed like leaves in the wind.
Matias looked up unexpectedly one morning while they were working in the garden. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands remain still on the tomato plants. “Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas drew his son closer, soil-covered hands and everything. “Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside interrupted their peaceful conversation. Lucas looked out the window and saw a sleek red Mercedes approaching. A tall man wearing an expensive suit came from the car.
The knock seemed to reverberate throughout the house.
The man’s voice was educated and cautious. “I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his fingers pressing against the doorframe until his knuckles turned white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder. “Hello, Matias.”
“You’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
Elijah spoke of his sister — Matias’s mother — of her struggles, her disappearance, and her deathbed confession just weeks ago.
“She was young and scared,” Elijah explained, his perfectly manicured hands clasped in his lap. “Our father wouldn’t have understood. She ran away with you after her boyfriend, your dad, dumped her, hoping you could have a better life than she could provide at that time.”
“So she left me on a doorstep?” Matias’s voice cracked. “Like I was NOTHING?”
Elijah added, looking to Lucas, “he’s all we have left of her. And there’s so much waiting for him. The best schools, connections, opportunities. A life beyond…” he motioned to their humble surroundings.
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Lucas’s voice broke. “You deserve more than fish nets and vegetable gardens. More than an old man’s company.”
“I want to go,” Matias said softly after a long silence.
Lucas turned, stung.
“Son—”
The goodbye was too fast after 17 years of love. Lucas helped pack a bag, his hands shaking as he folded Matias’ favorite blue sweater, which he had saved three months’ worth of fishing money for.
Lucas stood in the doorway, watching as the red Mercedes vanished, taking his heart with it. Matias’ face was tilted backward, watching him through the rear window, his hand pressed on the glass.
Days blended together. The silence was no longer peaceful, but oppressive. Lucas began talking to the chickens more, just to hear a voice — any voice — in the yard.
Then, one evening, a knock came on the door. He opened the door to find Matias standing there, with sagging shoulders and red eyes.
“They’re nice, Dad. They’re my blood. But you’re…” Matias’s voice broke. “You’re my FATHER! The only one I’ve ever needed. The only one I’ll ever need. I can’t be without you.”
“This time, I’m not leaving you… no matter what.”
He seized Lucas’ hand and clutched it fiercely, as if to compensate for the weeks they’d been away. They realized they were all each other needed.
My Ex-husband Ripped off the Wallpaper After Our Divorce Because ‘He Paid for It’ – Karma Had a Joke in Store for Him
My ex-husband once told me, “It’s just harmless fun.” That’s what he called his infidelity. But when he ripped the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have some fun — with him.
Do you believe in karma? Like, honestly, I used to think it was just something people said to make themselves feel better after someone hurt them. They’d say things like: “Don’t worry, karma will get them.”
Yeah, right. But let me tell you, karma is real. And in my case? She had a WICKED sense of humor.
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
Let me set the stage for you. My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight years. Eight long years where I thought we had something solid — a house we worked on together, two beautiful kids, and a life that, while not perfect, felt like ours.
But as it turns out, I was the only one in that marriage who believed in “ours.” And I should’ve seen the red flags.
Because the night I discovered Dan’s infidelity is seared into my memory.
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
Our daughter Emma had been sick with a fever, and I was rummaging through Dan’s drawer for the children’s medicine he always kept there. Instead, I found his phone.
I wasn’t trying to snoop, but a notification that flashed across the screen grabbed my attention: a heart emoji followed by ‘I love you!’
I couldn’t stop myself from opening it and my heart cracked when I found dozens of intimate text exchanges between my husband and a woman named “Jessica.”
A shocked woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
“How could you?” I whispered that night, my hands shaking as I confronted him. “Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?”
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. “It just happened,’ he said with a shrug, as if we were discussing the weather. “These things happen in marriages. It was just some harmless fun with my secretary, Jessica. It won’t happen again, honey. Never! I’m sorry. Trust me.”
“These things happen? No, Dan. They don’t JUST HAPPEN. You made choices. Every single time.”
An annoyed man shrugging | Source: Midjourney
The first time, I did what so many of us do — I convinced myself it was a mistake and a lapse in judgment. I thought we could fix it. I told myself that forgiveness was the strong thing to do. But the second time? Oh, the second time SHATTERED whatever illusions I had left.
“I thought we could work through this,” I said as I held up the evidence of his second betrayal — red lipstick stain on his collar. The irony? I hated red lipstick and never wore them.
“I thought you meant it when you said ‘never’ again.”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, his tone almost bored. “That I’m sorry? Would that make you feel better?”
That was the moment something inside me snapped. “No! I want you to pack your bags.”
An angry woman engaged in a heated argument | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before Dan could even stammer out another pathetic excuse.
The divorce itself was as brutal as you’d imagine.
But here’s the thing: the house wasn’t up for grabs. It was mine, passed down from my grandmother long before Dan entered the picture.
A picturesque house with a breathtaking garden | Source: Midjourney
“This is ridiculous!” Dan had shouted during one of our mediation sessions. “I’ve lived in that house for eight years. I’ve put money into it!”
“And it’s still my grandmother’s house,” I replied calmly, watching him fume. “The deed is in my name, Dan. It always has been.”
Legally, there was no argument. Dan, on the other hand, insisted on splitting everything else 50/50, just as we always had in our marriage. Groceries, vacations, furniture — you name it, he demanded fairness to the penny.
A woman arguing with someone | Source: Midjourney
And then came the moment that broke my heart more than any of his infidelities. We were discussing custody arrangements when Dan looked at our lawyer and without a hint of emotion, said, “She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility of raising the kids.”
Our children, Emma and Jack, were in the next room. My precious babies, who deserved so much better than a father who saw them as a burden.
“They’re your children,” I hissed across the table. “How can you just —”
“They’re better off with you anyway,” he cut me off. “You’ve always been the one good at all that nurturing stuff.”
A man staring grimly | Source: Midjourney
After the paperwork was signed, Dan asked for a week to pack his things and leave. He claimed he needed the time to “sort everything out.” To give him the space and to spare the kids from any awkward encounters, I took them to my mom’s for the week.
The night before we left, Emma clutched her favorite stuffed rabbit and asked, “Mommy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?”
I held her close, fighting back tears. How do you explain to a six-year-old what a divorce means, or why her family was breaking apart?
“Sometimes, sweetheart, grown-ups need some time apart to figure things out,” I said.
A sad little girl holding a stuffed rabbit | Source: Midjourney
“But will he miss us?” Jack, my eight-year-old, asked from the doorway.
“Of course he will,” I lied, my heart breaking all over again. “Of course he will.”
I figured it was the least I could do.
When the week was up, I returned home with the kids, ready to start our new chapter. But what I walked into was nothing short of a nightmare.
The wallpaper — the gorgeous floral wallpaper — was GONE.
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
The living room walls, once covered in beautiful floral paper we’d picked out together, were stripped bare. Jagged patches of drywall peeked through, like the house had been skinned alive. My stomach sank as I followed the destruction trail to the kitchen.
And there he was — Dan— tearing off another strip of wallpaper like a man possessed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
He turned around, completely unfazed. “I bought this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
“Dan,” I finally managed. “You’re ripping apart the house your kids live in.”
A man ripping a floral wallpaper | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” Jack’s voice trembled. “Why is Dad doing that to our walls?”
He burst into tears. “I loved the flowers! They were pretty! Why are you tearing the wallpaper, Daddy?”
I knelt down to their level, trying to shield them from the sight of their father methodically destroying our home. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We can pick out new wallpaper together. Something even prettier. Would you like that?”
A little boy crying | Source: Pexels
“But why is he taking it?” Emma hiccupped between sobs.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t hurt them even more. I shot Dan a look sharp enough to wither him.
He simply shrugged and said, “I paid for it. And I have all the right to destroy it!”
A man turning around while removing a wallpaper | Source: Midjourney
As Dan continued to rip the walllpaper, I noticed the kids peeking around the corner, their little faces confused and scared. My heart broke for them. I didn’t want this to be the memory they carried of their father in this house.
So I took a deep breath and said, “Fine. Do what you want.” Then I ushered the kids back to the car and left.
When I returned later that evening, it was even worse than I’d expected.
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
Dan had gone full petty. The kitchen was stripped of utensils, the toaster, and even the coffee maker. He’d even taken all the toilet paper from the bathrooms… and practically everything he’d bought with his OWN MONEY.
“You’re UNBELIEVABLE!” I muttered.
It was maddening. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin.
A man holding a toilet paper roll | Source: Unsplash
A month later, I joined a book club. At first, it was just a way to get out of the house and feel like myself again. But the women there quickly became my support system.
One night, after a couple of glasses of wine, I spilled the wallpaper story. I described every absurd detail, from the stripped walls to the missing toilet paper.
“Wait, he took the toilet paper too?” Cassie, one of the women, choked out between laughs.
“Yes!” I said, laughing despite myself. “I can’t believe I married someone so ridiculous that I don’t even feel like uttering his name.”
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
“Girl,” Cassie said, wiping tears from her eyes, “you dodged a bullet. Who does that? A grown man ripping wallpaper off walls? He sounds like an overgrown toddler. Gosh, please don’t reveal his name or we’d start despising every man with that name!”
The whole table erupted into laughter. It was cathartic. It was the first time I’d really laughed about the whole mess.
“You know what the worst part was?” I confided to the group, my wine glass nearly empty. “Trying to explain it to the kids. How do you tell your children their father cares more about wallpaper than their happiness?”
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
Betty, another book club member, reached across and squeezed my hand. “Children are resilient. They’ll remember who stayed and who put them first. That’s what matters.”
“I hope so,” I whispered, thinking of Emma’s tears and Jack’s confusion. “God, I hope so.”
Little did I know, karma was just getting started.
Six months passed. Life settled into a new normal. The kids were thriving, and I’d put the chaos of the divorce behind me. Dan barely crossed my mind — until the day he called me out of nowhere.
A man making a phonecall | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” he said, his tone smug. “I thought you should know — I’m getting married next month. Some women actually want to be with me. And I found a gorgeous bombshell!”
“Congratulations,” I said, keeping my voice even. Then I hung up.
I thought that would be the end of it. But a few weeks later, I was walking downtown, enjoying a rare solo outing, when I spotted Dan across the street. He was holding hands with a woman.
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
At first, I didn’t think much of it. I figured it was his fiancée and kept walking. But then, they crossed the street and walked straight toward me.
As they got closer, my stomach DROPPED. The woman was CASSIE— my friend from the book club.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Oh my gosh, hey!” she said, tugging Dan toward me. “This is such a small world! 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.”
A shocked woman standing on the road | Source: Midjourney
Cassie blinked, her smile faltering. “Wait… you know each other?”
Dan looked like he wanted to disappear. His grip on her hand tightened, and his jaw clenched.
“Oh, we go way back,” I said casually.
Cassie’s eyes darted between us, confusion turning to suspicion. “What do you mean, ‘go way back’? How do you know each other? Dan, do you… know her?”
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
Dan let out a nervous laugh. “Cassie, it’s not important —”
“Oh, yeah! Not that important. He’s just my ex-husband,” I said bluntly, cutting him off.
Cassie’s face froze, and then realization dawned. “Wait a second,” she said slowly. “That story you told at the book club… the one about the wallpaper? About that freaking guy? Is that… him?”
Her words hung in the air. And Dan’s panicked expression said it all.
A nervous man standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
Cassie turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Oh my God… that was YOU?”
“Cassie, it’s not what you think —” Dan pleaded.
“It’s exactly what I think,” she snapped. “You ripped wallpaper off the walls of your kids’ home because you bought it? Who does that?”
A furious woman yelling at a man | Source: Midjourney
“It was a long time ago,” Dan stammered. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Cassie hissed, pulling her hand away. “And what about the lies? The evil ex-wife who took your kids to another country? That she cheated on you? You’re unbelievable, Dan. You liar!”
She turned to me, her expression softening. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I had no idea.”
A heartbroken woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, Cassie whirled 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 Dan standing there, dumbstruck, and staring at the engagement ring she’d just flung at him.
He glanced at me, his face a thundercloud of anger and desperation. I just smiled faintly and walked away. This DAMAGE was more than enough!
A woman walking away | Source: Midjourney
That evening, as I tucked the kids into bed, Jack asked me something that made my heart swell.
“Mom, remember when Dad took all the wallpaper?”
I tensed, waiting for the pain in his voice. Instead, he surprised me.
“I’m glad we got to pick out the new ones together,” he said, smiling. “The dinosaurs in my room are way cooler than those old flowers. Daddy can keep that wallpaper to himself!”
Emma nodded enthusiastically from her bed. “And my butterflies! They’re the prettiest ever!”
A stunning kids’ room with gorgeous wallpaper and stuffed toys | Source: Midjourney
I looked around at our colorful walls, now covered in papers we’d chosen together, as a family of three. Walls that told our new story, not the one Dan had tried to strip away.
“You know what?” I said, pulling them both close. “I think so too.”
That day, I learned an important lesson: 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.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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