Imagine coming home after a long day, expecting peace, only to find your husband and his ex-wife in your living room. That’s exactly what happened to me. But Melissa wasn’t just there for a chat. What she was doing was beyond anything I could’ve imagined.
Do you know the feeling when you return home after a day full of meetings and deadlines? All you want is just to take a shower, change into a fresh pair of pajamas, and sink into your cozy bed. It’s just the best feeling ever.
I felt the same when I got home from work two weeks ago. All I wanted was my bed, a cup of hot coffee, and the true-crime documentary I’d been watching. I was set to watch episode 3, but what I saw when I stepped inside made me forget everything.
I opened the door, hung the car keys, and began walking towards my room when something unexpected caught my eye. At first, I really thought I was imagining things because it seemed too odd to be true.
I noticed the couch was gone, the rug was missing, and even the bookshelf had vanished. I checked the hallway and the kitchen, and sure enough, most of the items were missing. The coat closet? Gone. The coffee machine? Gone. The dining table? GONE!
What the heck? I thought. Where’s Roger?
Roger, my husband, usually came home before me, but I couldn’t see him around. Then, I heard his voice, like he was yelling at someone. It was coming from the end of the hallway. From our living room.
I threw my bag on the kitchen island and followed his voice. As I got closer, another voice echoed through the hallway. It was a woman’s voice.
Not ready for what was waiting, I pushed the door open and saw my husband with his ex-wife, Melissa. The woman Roger swore he’d never see again, the one he called “a filthy rich spoiled brat.”
I felt like my heart had jumped up to my throat. Why was Melissa in my house?
“Roger?” I said, interrupting their conversation. “What… What happened to our house?”
“Oh, Liz, you’re here?” Roger asked as if he wasn’t expecting me.
“Yeah, I just got back,” I said. “What’s she doing here?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Roger stuttered. “I’ll fix it, I swear.”
Roger looked desperate for me to stay calm, while Melissa stood there smirking. I almost thought they were having an affair until Melissa’s words sent a wave of pure rage through me.
“No, you won’t,” she snapped at Roger. “Didn’t you tell her that everything you owned is mine?”
“I… I…” Roger stammered, lost for words.
“Well, honey,” she said, turning to me. “All of this furniture… it belongs to me. You see, your husband and I bought it together when we were married, so I’m just taking back what’s mine.”
What the… I thought. What does she think of herself?
She was practically destroying my house and acting like it was no big deal.
I remember staring at her for a few moments, thinking what kind of an evil person would enter their ex’s house and take away most of their furniture.
I wanted to scream, to kick her out, but I couldn’t. Not with Roger just standing there silently and watching as she humiliated me.
“And you’re letting her take everything?” I finally managed to speak, looking straight into Roger’s eyes. “You didn’t even try to stop her? And why didn’t you tell me she was coming? You knew, right?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he lowered his gaze. He was too ashamed to even look at me.
“Seriously, Roger? That’s it?” I rolled my eyes. “I never thought you’d let your ex walk out with our whole life! This is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Melissa laughed. “I’m sorry honey, but technically everything in your house belongs to me. Even the bed that you two share. I paid for all this stuff, so I have every right to take it.”
Yeah, right, I thought to myself.
It would be true if I said I’ve never felt this humiliated in my entire life. Can you even imagine what kind of patience it took to stop myself from humiliating Melissa?
I could’ve thrown every embarrassing secret Roger had told me about Melissa right back at her, but I wasn’t about to stoop to her level. I wasn’t going to be petty.
At that point, I wanted to ask why she needed this old, used furniture when she could afford a brand-new bed set, and the latest model of the automatic coffee machine.
She was wealthy, owning one of the most popular businesses in town, and she could easily afford a fully furnished house.
But I knew why she was doing it. It was all about humiliating me. I could see the jealousy in her eyes.
“Fine,” I spat. “Take it. Take everything you own. But don’t you dare contact me or my husband ever again!”
“Sure, honey,” she said, smirking as if she had won the biggest prize of her life.
I watched as she walked toward the main door and called the workers inside to pick up the remaining furniture. Then, I spotted a truck in our backyard, full of the furniture the workers had already moved.
Meanwhile, Roger silently watched the workers tear our house apart. He was helpless, and just as heartbroken as I was.
That’s when I came up with a plan to make Melissa regret her decision.
Right when she stepped outside to look at the truck, I hurried into the kitchen and pulled out a few frozen shrimp from the freezer. Then, I quickly hid them in different places including our side table, the living room chairs, and inside our mattress.
I even stuffed a few of them inside the decorative pillows. I only had to wait for a few days to see the shrimps do their magic.
You see, I knew she wouldn’t keep this furniture in her house. She was probably going to dump it in some storage unit, and I couldn’t wait to see how these little pieces of meat would turn that place into an unbearable stink bomb.
As the workers loaded the last piece of furniture into the truck, Melissa gave one final self-satisfied glance around, ensuring she had destroyed our house in every possible way.
“I hope you’ve taken everything that’s YOURS,” I said, my arms crossed.
She nodded. “Yup, I’m done, honey. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
Sure, sorry, I thought.
And with that, Melissa left our house and drove away in her shiny SUV. Meanwhile, Roger sat on the ground with his hands on his head.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as tears trickled down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. She called me a few days ago and told me she’d come over, but I had no idea she was serious. I never thought she’d do this to us.”
I sighed and sat down next to him.
“It’s alright, babe,” I said, caressing his arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a house furnished by your ex-wife anyway.”
At that point, I could’ve yelled at Roger, blamed him, and made him feel terrible about the situation, but I knew things weren’t in his control. Besides, that’s exactly what Melissa wanted.
She wanted to see us fight and break apart, and I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.
“Instead of apologizing, I want you to buy me new furniture, okay?” I chuckled. “Anything I pick. I want to make this place feel like home again.”
“I’ll do that,” he looked up at me with a smile. “I’ll buy every piece of furniture that you want. I promise.”
I held his hand and squeezed it hard.
“I love you, Roger, and I’ll always be there for you,” I said. “We’ll get through this together.”
As we lay on the bedroom floor that night, I realized that I didn’t need Melissa’s furniture to make my house feel like home. I had Roger, and that was all I needed.
But the story doesn’t end here.
A few days later, while scrolling through Facebook, I stumbled upon a post in one of the local groups. It was from Melissa, and it was clear she was desperate.
HELP NEEDED URGENTLY! Does anyone know how to get rid of a horrible, rotting meat smell in furniture? I recently moved some old furniture into a storage unit, and within days, it started smelling like something died inside.
I’ve tried airing it out, deep cleaning, and even using baking soda, but nothing works! The smell is unbearable, and I can’t even walk into the storage room without gagging. Please, if anyone has tips, I’m losing my mind here!
I couldn’t help but chuckle while reading her frantic post. All her wealth, all her pride, and she was brought down by a few pieces of hidden shrimp.
It was the sweetest revenge. Served cold.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
My Husband Always Left the House When His Phone Rang & Returned with Smelly Clothes
When James, my husband, started leaving the house in a rush, I was sure something sinister was happening. He did this several times without a clear explanation. His strange behavior had me thinking he might be ch_eating, as he refused to tell me the real truth. When I finally found out the truth of what he was doing, I was shaken to my core!
For ten years of our marriage, I thought I knew everything about him. But MAN, was I mistaken! What I believed I knew about him was that he was driven and successful. He always seemed so tough, almost impenetrable
For all the time James and I had been together, I’d never seen him cry! But I never doubted his love for me; I could simply feel it in his actions, even if he didn’t say it often. That was until the last few months when things started to change.
My husband began acting differently. He was rarely home, spent no time with the children, and every time his phone rang, he would immediately leave.
When I confronted him about the calls and the rushed departures, he made a claim I couldn’t fathom. “It’s urgent office work, my love.” I didn’t believe him at all, mainly due to the next thing I am about to share.
What had me doubting him was the oddest part of all this. My husband would come back home and IMMEDIATELY throw his clothes in the washing machine! His clothes were washed even if he’d only worn them that day for roughly an hour!
After that, James would take a shower, no matter how briefly he’d been gone. It was perplexing and, frankly, worrisome! No matter how I tried to get him to tell me the truth about what he was actually doing, James would stick to the work excuse.
I once snuck to the washing machine during his shower time. Doing my own investigations I pulled out his clothes to smell them for women’s perfume. Instead, I was hit with a stench I couldn’t explain! His clothes smelled PUTRID!
That evening, after my husband left in a hurry once again, I made a decision that I couldn’t take it anymore and was fed up. I needed to know what was going on! I grabbed my coat and tracked him down, following him to his destination.
My heart pounded as I trailed his car through the winding streets. He finally came to a halt when he parked in front of an old, run-down building on the edge of town.
I even wondered whether it was safe to go in or not and hesitated for a while before summoning the courage to enter. But what I witnessed inside left me SPEECHLESS!
I saw him with a bunch of people and they were doing something I couldn’t even comprehend as I stood there with my mouth open. James, my stoic, seemingly indifferent husband, was there in an APRON! MY man was serving food to a group of homeless people!
He was smiling, chatting, and laughing, a side of him I had NEVER seen before! It was like watching a stranger, but one who looked so much like the man I married! As if sensing my presence, James looked up, and our eyes met.
He froze, his face a mask of fear and surprise. My husband then quickly made his way over to me, taking off his apron as he walked. “Lily, I can explain,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Please do,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
“What is all this? Why didn’t you tell me?” James took a deep breath, leading me to a quieter corner. “This is my project, the one I live for.” I watched him, waiting for the revelation that was about to change everything I thought I knew about my husband.
“I was born in poverty,” he began. “Sometimes, my family had nothing to eat. My single mom couldn’t feed me and my brother, so she gave us up for adoption,” James said. “We were taken in by a wealthy family who gave us everything we needed.”
I was shocked that I’d never known this about him. “But there was a catch. My new dad was strict; he believed in toughness and never showing vulnerability,” my husband continued. “I had to bury my soft side deep inside just to survive in that house because my adopted father forbade me from showing it.”
“He’s the one who taught me to be tough and determined, hence my work ethic.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened. This was a side of James I never knew, a past he had never shared. “So, you started this to show your true self?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Yes,” he said, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and relief. “When I became successful, I realized I needed to find a way to express my soft side somewhere. I wanted to give back somehow.”
“I wanted to help people who are in the same position I once was.”
“So, I started this shelter, this kitchen, as my way of giving back and being true to who I am. It’s a part of me I’ve hidden for so long.” He explained how he started feeding poor and homeless people and sheltering them too.
What he did hit me hard, the weight of his hidden life pressing down on me. I understood now why he had been so secretive, why he NEEDED this outlet. It wasn’t just about work; it was about redemption and compassion.
I took his hand in mine. “James, you should have told me. We could have done this together.” He squeezed my hand, a tear slipping down his cheek. At that moment, I fell deeper in love with him, realizing that he was human too.
I saw a side of him that made me see that he was a multifaceted being. “I was scared, Lily. Scared of what you might think, scared of appearing weak.”
“You’re not weak, my darling,” I said firmly. “Showing your soft side, helping these people, that’s the STRONGEST thing you can do!”
Since then, our relationship changed. I finally understood why he was secretive and washed his clothes after every trip. I joined James in his mission. I started volunteering at the shelter and bringing the children along too.
They learned the value of kindness and humility, and at the same time saw their father in a new light! We grew closer than ever, united by his hidden passion and newfound openness. My husband showed me that true strength lies in being able to show your vulnerability.
I also learned through him that inner strength lay in giving WITHOUT expecting anything in return. The act of giving was a gift of its own. Our family became stronger, bound by love. We were united by his formerly hidden compassion, newfound openness, and a shared commitment to helping others.
Luckily for Lily, her husband wasn’t doing anything wrong on his random trips.
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