Newlywed bliss shatters when Sarah’s husband, Jake, accuses her of cheating after “smelling cologne” in their bedroom. Alone and humiliated, Sarah pieces together the truth — and it’s far from what Jake expected.
It had only been two weeks since Jake and I said our vows. Two weeks of riding that post-wedding glow like it was some invincible wave. It felt like we were untouchable. No one told me how quickly that feeling could collapse.
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
Jake’s mom had the accident on a Sunday morning. I was folding laundry when he got the call. One second, he was tapping his phone on the counter, scrolling through some meme page, and the next, his face drained of color.
“Mom’s hurt,” he said, already pulling on his hoodie. “Dad accidentally hit her with the car.” His voice cracked on that last part. “Her hip… it’s bad. She needs an urgent replacement.”
I grabbed the keys for him. “I’ll drive.”
Car keys | Source: Pexels
“No, no. I’ll be faster.” His eyes met mine, wild and unfocused. “I’ll call you when I know more.”
He kissed me on the side of my head, and then he was gone. Just like that. I stood in the kitchen, the faint smell of detergent in the air, trying to process what he’d just said. His dad hit his mom with the car?
Hours later, he called to say he’d be staying at his parents’ house to help care for her post-surgery. I told him it was fine. It was. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t understand that?
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
Three days later, on Wednesday morning, I was halfway out the door for work when I heard the front lock turn behind me. My heart jumped. Jake?
He stepped in wearing the same hoodie and worn jeans. He grinned when he saw me, but as I hurried forward to greet him, he stopped in his tracks. His nose crinkled and his eyes darted across the apartment like he was searching for something.
“Hey, babe! I didn’t know you were coming back today,” I said.
A man in an apartment | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at me, just kept scanning the place. Then his eyes locked on me, hard as stone.
“Who’s been here?” he asked, his voice sharp as a blade.
“What?” I blinked, stunned. “No one’s been here, Jake. It’s just me.”
He tilted his head toward the bedroom. “Then why does it smell like cologne in there?”
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, but it came out too light, too nervous. “Cologne? What are you talking about?”
“You tell me,” he shot back, stepping past me toward the bedroom. “Smells like a man’s been in here.”
I stared after him, frowning. “Maybe it’s something from outside,” I offered. “Maybe it’s… I don’t know. The windows were open all day yesterday.”
A woman shrugging | Source: Midjourney
My phone buzzed then. It was a text from a colleague letting me know the boss was looking for me.
“I’ve got to rush,” I called out. “I’m already running late and now Mrs. Thompson is asking for me! See you later, babe!”
I hurried out the door. Work was crazy that day, and I couldn’t wait to get home to Jake. I’d missed him so much while he was away. But when I got home that night, I knew something was wrong.
Apartment corridor | Source: Pexels
My key didn’t fit. I yanked it out, checked it, and tried again, but it was useless. I peered at the doorknob like a fool, and that’s when it hit me: Jake had changed the locks.
I banged on the door and called for Jake, but he didn’t reply. So I called his phone. It rang once before going straight to voicemail. I called again. Same thing. Texts went unanswered, too.
I sat on the stairs of our apartment complex, head in my hands, feeling too stunned to cry. I thought about calling the landlord, but what would I even say?
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I had nowhere else to go, so I went to my mom’s place. She was shocked to see me, and just as confused as I was when I tried to explain why I was there.
“Why don’t you try calling Jake’s brother?” she suggested, placing a cup of tea in front of me. “Those two are so close… if anyone can help you figure out what’s going on, it’s Nick.”
“You’re right,” I muttered, wiping my eyes.
Tears in a woman’s eye | Source: Pexels
I stepped into the living room with my tea and called Nick. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hey,” I said, breathless. “Have you talked to Jake?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”
I stood up, gripping the phone tighter. “What? What are you talking about?”
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
“Look, Sarah,” he sighed like he was tired of me already. “He knows what you did. You should just own it.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth. “Are you serious right now?” I whispered. “What are you even talking about, Nick?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
He hung up.
A cell phone | Source: Pexels
I immediately texted Jake again, demanding to know why he was mad at me. This time, he replied.
“You cheated on me while I was looking after Mom. Our apartment stinks of your lover’s cologne! How dare you bring another man into our bed?”
I couldn’t believe what I was reading, but it didn’t stop there.
A woman staring at her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
Another text arrived from Jake.
“Our marriage is over! I’ve told my whole family what you’ve done…”
Tears flooded my eyes as I read all the cruel names he called me after that. Jake and I had been together for five years… how could he think I’d be unfaithful to him only two weeks into our marriage?
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
More texts arrived in quick succession, but these were from Jake’s mom.
“Return the ring. It’s not yours anymore. It was $19,000, and we’re not letting you walk away with it.”
My breath caught in my throat. I sat up straighter, staring at my screen in shock.
“Jake is meeting with a lawyer tomorrow. An annulment can be done quickly since it’s only been 2 weeks.”
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
An annulment? Before I could finish processing that, the next text arrived.
“We’ll be sending your things soon. Tell us if you’d rather have them dropped off or shipped.”
My fingers curled into the blanket on my lap, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. I kept reading the messages until I finally turned off my phone.
A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Pexels
I sat there, staring at the little gold band on my finger, wondering how we got here. Two weeks ago, we were untouchable.
I didn’t sleep that night. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning. By 2 a.m., I was replaying every little detail, looking for a clue.
And then it hit me: the wipes.
A woman holding wipes | Source: Pexels
The smell in our apartment wasn’t cologne. It was the lemon-cedarwood wipes I’d taped behind the fan in our bedroom. I’d done it on purpose after cooking fish for dinner — Jake hated the smell of fish.
My heart started pounding so hard it felt like it might break my ribs. I grabbed my phone and texted him.
“Check behind the fan. Look in the bathroom trash for the packaging. It’s the wipes, Jake. It’s not cologne. It’s not a man. It’s the wipes.”
A woman texting | Source: Midjourney
Then I waited.
The next morning, I was sitting with my mom at the kitchen table, trying to act like I hadn’t just experienced the emotional collapse of my life. My coffee was cold, and I didn’t care. My phone buzzed.
Jake.
I looked up at my mom, and she nodded. “Go on, baby.”
A mature woman | Source: Midjourney
I walked to the door. Through the window, I saw him standing there. Shoulders slouched. His eyes were red. His hands shook as he wiped at his face.
He knocked once. Just once.
I opened the door but didn’t say anything. I just watched him.
“Sarah,” he choked out, his face crumpling. “I’m so sorry.”
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
I folded my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you?”
“It was a mistake,” he said, voice cracking. “I-I let my head get… I wasn’t thinking. I just—” He looked up at me, eyes wild. “Please come home.”
My breath hitched, and before I knew it, I was stepping forward, arms wrapping around him. His warmth crashed into me, his breath shaky against my hair. Relief poured out of him in a broken sob, and for a moment, I let myself believe it was going to be okay.
A couple hugging | Source: Midjourney
I went home with Jake that evening, but I couldn’t get over what had happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about the lock change, the cruel texts, and Jake’s mom demanding my ring back like I was a thief.
The names Jake had called me circled my thoughts. One little misunderstanding was all it had taken for him and all his family to turn on me. We’d known each other for five years… we were supposed to be family.
The next night, I packed my things.
Suitcases on a bed | Source: Pexels
I carried my suitcase out into the living room, where Jake was watching TV.
“I’ve been thinking…” I started, leaning over to switch off the TV as I spoke, “about how quick you were to believe I was cheating on you, how you refused to talk things through with me, how easy it was for you to throw me out like trash.”
“Baby, I said I’m sorry.” He stared at me like he couldn’t believe this still bothered me.
A man on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“I know, but saying sorry doesn’t mean we aren’t broken, Jake.”
“I’ll make it right, I swear! I love you.”
I shook my head, slow and steady. “Love doesn’t change the locks on me. Love doesn’t end with a text.”
His face twisted with regret. “Please.”
A sad man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going back to my mom’s,” I said, grabbing my suitcase and heading for the door. “I need space.”
“Sarah, please!”
But I shut the door.
For the next week, he sent me long, heartbroken texts. Pages of apologies. I read them all. I didn’t reply.
A woman frowning at her phone | Source: Midjourney
I lay awake at night, thinking about it. If someone else told me this story, I’d laugh at how stupid it sounded. He thought it was cologne. It was lemon wipes. But I didn’t laugh. It wasn’t funny.
Two weeks into marriage, and I’d already learned this much: People who love you don’t turn on you that fast.
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.
My Neighbor Totally Ruined My Windows with Paint after I Refused to Pay $2,000 for Her Dog’s Treatment
An increasingly heated argument starts when Julia declines to pay her neighbor $2000 for a small dog accident. Julia is dealing with family issues and navigating the chaos as tensions grow. But Julia loses it and plans some heinous retaliation after her neighbor paints over her windows.
Allow me to share with you the story of the moment I nearly went insane while residing in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
I’m Julia, and I shared this sweet small home with my husband Roger and our ten-year-old son Dean for more than 10 years.
As long as you disregarded the ongoing concern for Roger’s well-being, everything was fairly wonderful. However, when Linda moved in next door, everything was different.
Linda. The mere thought of her makes my blood boil. We never got along from the day she came in with her golden retriever, Max.
At first, it was simply small things, like her loud music or the fact that she allowed Max go anywhere he wished, nothing serious. However, things took a bad turn one sunny afternoon.
Max came running over to me while I was cutting my roses in my backyard, wagging his tail like he owned the place. Really sweet dog, but intrigued. He took in certain scents, and before I knew it, he yelled.
The poor creature has a little thorn embedded in his paw. I bent down, comforted him, and carefully pulled the thorn out. I patted Max’s head after he licked my fingers.
I accompanied him back to Linda’s, perhaps anticipating a thank you. Rather, she merely stood there, frowning and with her arms crossed.
Why does my dog have a limp? How did you act? She lost her temper.
“He simply trod on a small thorn,” I retorted, attempting to remain composed. “I removed it, and he seems OK.”
She gave a huff, and I assumed that was it. How incorrect I was!
One morning, I discovered a message affixed to my door. “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment,” it said.
I was astounded as I stared at it. Two thousand dollars? For what purpose? The dog only received a small cut. I made the decision to visit and make everything clear.
Linda, what’s the deal? I asked, pointing to the message.
Her tone was cold as she continued, “That’s for Max’s vet bill.” “That thorn caused him pain all through the night.”
“I apologize, but that is absurd,” I answered. “As a gesture of goodwill, I’ll give you $100, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda squinted her eyes. “You’ll regret it or you pay up.”
Linda turned my life into a living misery the moment she met me.
Every time she drove by, she would flip me off, honk, and tip over my trash cans. Her attempt to have Dean arrested was the worst. Dean, my sweet, naive boy, was simply riding a minibike like all the other kids in the area.
I was enjoying a cup of tea on the veranda one afternoon when I heard Linda’s car horn familiarly screaming. Glaring at Dean, who was playing in the driveway, I looked up.
She said, “Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops!”
“Linda, these are only children!” Feeling my patience wane, I yelled back.
She shot back, “Your kid is a menace, and if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
I was unable to yell, weep, or take action, even though I wanted to. Since Roger was back in the hospital, I was already overburdened with trying to keep things together. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at Dean.
I kindly murmured, “Come inside, honey.” “We’ll switch up the game.”
With tears in his eyes, Dean argued, “But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I understand, my love. Simply put, it’s complicated.
I made an effort to ignore Linda’s shenanigans and concentrate on Roger and Dean. However, it felt as though a ticking time bomb was nearby. I was always afraid of what she might do next. Finally, she pushed me over the edge.
I got the call in the afternoon of a Sunday. Roger’s condition had gotten worse, and I had to head to the hospital right away.
After gathering our belongings, I dropped Dean off at my mother’s house and hurried to the hospital.
I stayed by Roger’s side for two excruciating days, not eating or sleeping, my mind racing with worry and tiredness.
Upon my return, all I wanted was a little break, an opportunity to regain my composure.
Upon walking up my driveway, I discovered that my house had been turned into a nightmare for graffiti artists. Paint in the colors red and yellow spattered my windows, dripping in unkempt streaks.
My house appeared to have been attempted to be converted into a circus tent. And there it was, Linda’s note “Just to make your days brighter!” sitting on the doorstep!
A house covered with paint splatters | Source: Midjourney
I was shaking with fury as I stood there, my fatigue from the previous two days melting away in the fire of my fury. That was it. This was the tipping moment.
I clinched my teeth and whispered, “Dean, go inside.”
“But Mom, what took place?” His eyes wide with terror and perplexity, he questioned.
I said it again, softly this time, attempting to maintain my composure. “Just go inside, honey.”
Dean gave a nod and rushed inside, leaving me to harbor my rage on my own.
With my thoughts racing, I crumpled Linda’s paper in my hand. It had to end. Linda was going to get a war if that was her desire.
I took a drive to the hardware shop that afternoon. I strolled through the aisles, my rage melting into a detached, analytical concentration. When I saw the Japanese Beetle traps, a strategy started to take shape.
I purchased multiple packets of the beetle-attracting smell lures and traps. I put the aroma packets in the freezer as soon as I came home. The wax would be easier to work with in the cold. Anxiety mixed with excitement caused my heart to race. This needed to function.
I slipped into Linda’s yard at three in the morning while the neighborhood was silent due to the darkness.
I had the impression of a figure from one of Roger’s favorite spy films. My heart leaped at the sound of every distant leaf rustle. However, I was adamant. I hid the smell packets behind the layers of mulch in Linda’s well-kept flower beds.
By the time I was done, the first rays of morning were appearing.
I crept back inside my house, feeling my heartbeat finally begin to settle down. Despite being tired, I felt a sense of somber fulfillment as I got into bed. It was now a matter of waiting.
When I looked out my window the following afternoon, I noticed swarms of Japanese beetles descending on Linda’s garden. They were glinting in the sunlight. It was functioning.
Her lovely flower gardens were completely destroyed over the course of the following few days, the once-vibrant blossoms reduced to frayed remains.
Allow me to correct the information. Hi there, my name is Linda, and I came to this area in search of solitude.
My golden dog, Max, went into Julia’s yard by mistake and snagged a thorn in his paw, shattering that fantasy. She pulled it out as if she were doing me a favor, rather than just giving it back to him.
I asked Julia to pay Max’s vet bill the following day.
He was in discomfort and walking with a limp all night. However, she was so bold as to offer me just $100 rather than the $2000 it would have cost. I told her she would regret not paying up after our argument. Things didn’t seem to be getting out of control.
Yes, I did, a couple times knocked over her trash cans and honked as I went past, to let her know I wasn’t going to back down. However, Julia painted myself as the bad guy.
I didn’t know things had gotten out of hand until insects decimated my garden.
I was like a crazy woman, rushing around my yard. When I was picking away dead flowers on the third day, I noticed something strange hidden in the mulch. When I saw that it was a piece of plastic packaging—part of a Japanese beetle trap—my heart fell.
Someone had intentionally done this. And I knew who it was, very well.
My wrath blazing, I stormed straight to Julia’s house. I knocked on her door, presenting the proof that implicated her.
“Julia! Let yourself in!” I yelled, fury trembling in my voice.
Appearing composed as ever, she unlocked the door. “What’s going on, Linda?”
“You know what you did to my garden?” I threw the plastic fragment towards her. This was discovered in my flower bed. Yes, you did this, right?
Although Julia maintained a neutral expression, there was a hint of something—guilt, perhaps—in her eyes. “Lucina, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t tell me lies!” I let out a cry. “You destroyed my yard! Why would you act in this manner?
A wail sounded from within the home before she could respond. When I looked behind Julia, I noticed Dean, her son, seated on the floor with tears running down his face.
“Is Dad going to pass away, Mom?” With his tiny voice breaking, Dean cried.
Julia looked past me, her expression softening as she turned to greet her son. “No, sweetheart, everything will be OK. The medical professionals are exerting every effort.
I watched this scene play out while freezing in place. My rage seemed so trivial now.
Julia was more than simply my obnoxious neighbor; she was a mother taking care of her sick husband and her afraid child.
“Julia, I.” I opened my mouth, but my words stumbled. How do I put it? I hadn’t paused to think about what she might be going through since I was so overwhelmed by my rage.
With a look of fatigue on her face, Julia turned to face me. “Linda, I apologize for your garden. However, I didn’t do it. I can’t handle this anymore, let alone caring about your flowers.
My fight was gone from me. “I apologize too,” I said. “I had no idea that things were so horrible for you.”
She gave a nod, remaining silent. I recoiled, embarrassed by my own foolishness. How could it have gotten so out of control?
That being said, I kept to myself. I realized that Julia had enough on her plate and put an end to the small-time harassing. My garden recovered slowly, and although Julia and I never became friends, we were able to live in harmony together.
I still think about that period of time years later. Sometimes, in order to understand what others are going through, you have to look past your own problems. Even though Julia and I have remained estranged neighbors, we have a silent respect for one another that was developed through hardship.
Though it has been romanticized for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
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