I Walked in to Find My Husband with His Ex-Wife in Our House — What She Was Doing There Made Me Go Feral

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.

A woman reading a book at night | Source: Pexels

A woman reading a book at night | Source: Pexels

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.

A woman looking at her house, feeling shocked | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her house, feeling shocked | Source: Midjourney

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?

A woman looking at her kitchen and hallway | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her kitchen and hallway | Source: Midjourney

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.

A close-up shot of a doorknob | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a doorknob | Source: Pexels

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?”

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

“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.

A woman in her ex's house, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her ex’s house, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

“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.

A woman looking at her ex's wife | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her ex’s wife | Source: Midjourney

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?”

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

“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.

A woman in her ex-husband's house | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her ex-husband’s house | Source: Midjourney

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.

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

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.

A close-up shot of a woman's eyes | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

“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.

A man moving a couch | Source: Pexels

A man moving a couch | Source: Pexels

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.

A woman holding a frozen shrimp | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a frozen shrimp | Source: Midjourney

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.

An old chair | Source: Pexels

An old chair | Source: Pexels

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.

An upset man sitting on the ground | Source: Midjourney

An upset man sitting on the ground | Source: Midjourney

“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.”

A woman consoling her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman consoling her husband | Source: Midjourney

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.”

A woman smiling while talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling while talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

“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 couple sitting together | Source: Pexels

A couple sitting together | Source: Pexels

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!

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

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?

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: When George told Sylvia she was only half the mom his late wife was and wished SHE had died instead, her world shattered. But she didn’t break. In the face of his cruel words, Sylvia made a decision that would change everything and show just how powerful a mother’s love can be.

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.

Man Rented His Apartment to a Sweet Old Couple – When They Moved Out, He Was Shocked By What He Found Inside

Man Rented His Apartment to a Sweet Old Couple – When They Moved Out, He Was Shocked By What He Found Inside

When I first rented my apartment to Hans and Greta, a sweet old couple with warm smiles and charming accents, I thought I’d found the perfect tenants. But when they moved out, I was plunged into a mystery that would shatter my trust and lead to an unbelievable twist.

Hans and Greta seemed like the sweetest couple I had ever encountered. Late seventies, gentle manners, and warm smiles that could melt the coldest heart.

Hans had a neat silver mustache that twitched when he laughed, and Greta had this kind, motherly demeanor. They spoke with curious accents that I couldn’t quite place, a mix of something European and quaint.

A happy elderly couple in the kitchen | Source: Pexels

A happy elderly couple in the kitchen | Source: Pexels

“I hope this apartment will be just right for you,” I said as I showed them around.

“It’s perfect,” Greta replied with a smile. “Just like home.”

They moved in smoothly, and for the entire year they stayed, there were no issues at all. They paid their rent on time, kept the place immaculate, and even left little thank-you notes when I came to check on the property.

A handsome apartment with wood floors | Source: Pexels

A handsome apartment with wood floors | Source: Pexels

They’d often invite me in for tea, regaling me with stories of their adventures back in the days when they were young. It was hard to imagine a more ideal scenario.

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here, Mark,” Hans said one afternoon. “You’ve been a wonderful landlord.”

“You two have been the best tenants. If only everyone was like you,” I replied, sipping the tea Greta had made. It was chamomile, fragrant and soothing.

An elderly couple enjoying warm drinks | Source: Pexels

An elderly couple enjoying warm drinks | Source: Pexels

“Do you remember the time we got lost in the Black Forest?” Greta asked Hans, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh yes, that was quite the adventure!” Hans laughed. “We were young and foolish, thought we could navigate without a map.”

“Ended up spending the night in a shepherd’s hut,” Greta added, shaking her head.

However, as their lease neared its end, something strange happened. Hans and Greta, usually so calm and measured, seemed to be in a rush to move out.

Household contents being packed into boxes | Source: Pexels

Household contents being packed into boxes | Source: Pexels

They were always in a hurry, packing boxes and arranging things in a frenzy. When I asked if everything was okay, they assured me with those same warm smiles that everything was fine.

“Just some family matters,” Greta explained. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You both seem quite frantic,” I pressed, concerned.

Packed items being carried down stairs | Source: Pexels

Packed items being carried down stairs | Source: Pexels

“It’s all good, Mark. Just some urgent family issues. We’ll miss this place, though,” Hans said, patting my shoulder reassuringly.

The day they moved out, they handed me the keys with an extra firm handshake and an apology for their sudden departure. I wished them well, feeling a bit sad to see them go.

“Thank you for everything, Mark. We hope to see you again someday,” Greta said, giving me a gentle hug.

“Take care, both of you,” I replied, waving as they left.

A hand bearing a bunch of keys | Source: Pexels

A hand bearing a bunch of keys | Source: Pexels

The next day, I went to inspect the apartment, expecting to find it in the same pristine condition they had kept it. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, but what I saw made me gasp in shock.

There was no floor. The hardwood planks that had been there were completely gone, leaving only the bare concrete underneath. I stood there, stunned, trying to process what had happened.

“Where the hell is the floor?” I muttered to myself, pacing around the empty rooms.

A room with its floored stripped out | Source: Pexels

A room with its floored stripped out | Source: Pexels

I took out my phone, snapped a photo of the empty floor, and sent them a text.

“What happened to the floor?” I asked, attaching the photo.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a reply. It was from Hans.

A man studying his cell phone | Source: Pexels

A man studying his cell phone | Source: Pexels

“Oh dear, we are so sorry for the confusion! In the Netherlands, it is a tradition to take the floor with you when you move out. We assumed it was the same here. We were in such a rush because our granddaughter had just given birth and needed our help with the baby, and we didn’t have time to explain. We hope this hasn’t caused too much trouble. Please let us make it up to you. Come visit us in the Netherlands, and we will show you our beautiful country. With love, Hans and Greta.”

A man looking out the window, phone in hand | Source: Pexels

A man looking out the window, phone in hand | Source: Pexels

I read the message a couple of times, my disbelief slowly turning into a surprised grin. It was such a peculiar tradition, but it did make sense of everything. They hadn’t intended any harm; they were just adhering to a custom from their country.

The urgency in their departure was as sincere and heartfelt as they had always seemed, or so I thought.

I chuckled and replied, “I appreciate the explanation. I’ll need to replace the floor here, but no hard feelings. Maybe I will take you up on that offer to visit. Best wishes to you and your family.”

But something nagged at me. A tradition to take the floor, really? I decided to investigate further. I contacted a friend who was a private investigator and told him the whole story. He agreed to look into it.

A man inspecting documents with a magnifying glass | Source: Pexels

A man inspecting documents with a magnifying glass | Source: Pexels

A week later, he called me with some shocking news.

“Mark, you won’t believe this,” he said. “Hans and Greta aren’t who they claimed to be. They’re part of a sophisticated scam targeting landlords, stealing valuable items and leaving with the impression of an innocent mistake. Those floorboards? They’re worth a small fortune.”

“What?” I retorted. “How could they do this? I checked their credentials thoroughly, everything was above board. They had valid residential visas, good credit histories, and no criminal records.”

A man listening on headphones | Source: Pexels

A man listening on headphones | Source: Pexels

“They’re professionals,” my friend continued. “They move from city to city, targeting kind-hearted landlords like you. Their M.O. involves taking high-value items that can be easily sold.”

I was stunned. “I can’t believe it. They seemed so genuine, so… kind.”

“That’s how they get you,” he said. “They build trust and then take advantage of it.”

An outdoor antique market | Source: Freepik

An outdoor antique market | Source: Freepik

“We’ve tracked them down,” my friend continued. “They’re planning to sell the stolen floorboards at a high-end antique market. We can set up a sting operation to catch them in the act.”

“Let’s do it,” I said, determined to see justice served.

The plan was simple. We’d catch them in the act of selling the stolen wood. My friend, posing as a buyer, approached Hans and Greta, who were busy setting up their stall with various antique items, including my floorboards.

Two men shake hands in introduction  | Source: Pexels

Two men shake hands in introduction | Source: Pexels

“Excuse me,” my friend said. “I’m interested in those floorboards. They look exquisite.”

Hans smiled. “Ah, yes. Fine Dutch craftsmanship. We know because we are from the Netherlands ourselves. This is very rare, very valuable timber.”

“How much are you asking?” my friend inquired.

“For you, a special price,” Hans replied, naming a figure that made my P.I. friend’s eyes widen in surprise.

Police officers making an arrest  | Source: Pexels

Police officers making an arrest | Source: Pexels

As the transaction was about to go through, police officers moved in, as coordinated, surrounding the stall.

“Hands up! You’re under arrest for theft and fraud,” one officer barked.

Hans and Greta looked shocked but didn’t resist as they were handcuffed and led away. I watched from a distance, feeling satisfied, but also sorrowful. How could I have misjudged the character of these people so spectacularly?

The floorboards were recovered, and they turned out to be imported wood worth a fortune. In the weeks that followed, I had the floor replaced, and life returned to normal. But I often thought about Hans and Greta, the weird, invented tradition they had conned me with, and also their seemingly unwavering kindness.

Strips of wood in a pile | Source: Pexels

Strips of wood in a pile | Source: Pexels

A month later, I received a letter. It was from the real Hans and Greta in the Netherlands. They had had their identities stolen by the criminal gang, who had hired imposters to pose as them. They had been contacted by Interpol and made aware of the crime.

They invited me to visit the Netherlands and experience their genuine hospitality. “Dear Mark, we are so sorry for what happened. We hope you can find it in your heart to visit us and see the real Netherlands and meet its true people. With love, Hans and Greta.”

I sat back, letter in hand, contemplating the experience. Trust is a fragile thing, I thought, but also incredibly powerful when placed in the right people. Maybe one day, I would visit the real Hans and Greta and rebuild my faith in trust and humanity.

A man reading a letter | Source: Pexels

A man reading a letter | Source: Pexels

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