When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.
We’ve all heard of crazy boyfriend or ex-boyfriend stories—I mean, when I was in college, it was a common sleepover story.
I’ve heard of the boyfriend who wanted to taste everything his girlfriend ate—before she did. And an ex-boyfriend who demanded that his ex-girlfriend help him study for finals because it was her fault that he wasn’t able to concentrate.
But I didn’t expect my relationship to turn into one of those stories.
I had been dating Henry for two years. We had met in college at a party and after a night of drunken conversation over fries, we ended up dating.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect—in fact, over the course of it, we had broken up three times.
“Come on, Kyra,” Henry said. “We either get back together or we break up for good.”
It was the defining moment in our relationship because Henry was the one who wanted to call the shots. He wanted us to stay together, and I wanted us to call it a day.
Over the years, Henry and I had gotten into enough fights, motivating me to turn to therapy to help me cope with the stress of it.
“And yet,” my friend Brent said, “you still remain with him.”
It was just another ordinary Friday evening and Henry had come over to my place. We were going to eat pizza and watch series until we fell asleep.
A few hours into the evening, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and I casually reached over to grab his phone to check the time.
But I was completely unprepared for everything that followed.
Just as I picked up Henry’s phone, his screen lit up with a text message from another girl.
Hey, babe! See you later or are we meeting tomorrow?
“Hey, who’s this?” I asked, nudging him awake and handing him the phone with a puzzled look.
Henry snatched the phone from my hand in a fury, his face clouding over.
“Kyra, why are you reading my messages?” he snapped, his tone defensive.
“I was just looking for the time,” I stammered. “My phone is on charge in the kitchen. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”
Henry stood up, took a swig of his now room-temperature beer, and paced around my living room.
“This is my private stuff, Kyra,” he accused. “You shouldn’t be looking at all.”
Before I could process what was happening, Henry began putting his shoes on, and then he made a final decision about our relationship.
“I think we’re done here. I can’t trust you anymore!”
And with that, he left my apartment.
Stunned, I watched him leave. We were over in the blink of an eye after two years.
I couldn’t understand if I felt relief or devastation. I would miss Henry, of course, but at the same time—I didn’t think that this was the worst thing.
Henry had been emotionally manipulating me for a long time, but I had felt a familiarity with him. And that had made it easier to stay with him.
It was the comfort of being with a familiar person, despite the heartache that came with them.
I could hear my mother’s words loud in my head.
“Kyra,” she would say, “You’re too smart to be playing a game like this. Let go of the dead weight. Henry has been nothing but dead weight since your first big fight.”
And she would be correct.
I decided to take a shower, I needed to lull my body into a sense of relaxation so that I could just let go and sleep.
And then it truly dawned on me—the reason for the breakup now was because I had caught Henry cheating on me. At first, I was too stunned. I was stunned by the fact that he had walked out on me.
But I finally managed to realize that he had actually been dating another woman. And had no idea how long it had been going on for.
The thought was too much for me to comprehend. I had so many questions running through my mind—how long had Henry been cheating on me? Who was the other person? What would have happened if I hadn’t found out?
The next few days were a complete blur—I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was untied to Henry. But at the same time, I felt hollow and a bit raw.
I found myself crying—not for Henry, but for myself. And through it all, I couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
While making a cup of tea, an email pinged on my laptop, signaling me to my desk.
It was from Henry.
Hoping for an apology, I opened it immediately—only to find a detailed bill listing every single expense that Henry claimed to have incurred on my behalf over the duration of our relationship.
Kyra, please make the payment soon. I need to move on, and you need to make things right with me. I cannot believe I wasted so much time and money on you.
I saw red—a hazy fury took over my sight. My head pounded, and my heart was ready to burst with the flood of feelings that were unleashed by Henry’s email.
“This is insane!” I screamed at the screen.
I shut off my laptop and made myself some soup. Henry and his delusional state of mind could wait. I wasn’t going to pay anything back. I was done with him.
As I cut up some garlic bread, I had an idea.
My friend, Brent, who hated Henry—was a lawyer and he loved a challenge.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, calling him while I waited for the soup to get ready. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with Henry, and I think I need to hit back with something clever.”
Brent was intrigued. He chuckled and asked me to explain.
“Tell me everything, Kyra,” he said.
The next day, I met Brent at a coffee shop, where we planned on thinking up the next step where I could get back at Henry.
Brent ordered us coffee and pastries, while I pulled up the email from Henry.
As we laid out his claims against my emotional tolls—the late-night anxiety, the therapy costs—he burst out laughing.
“This is actually genius. Let’s draft up a counter-invoice.”
Our response was meticulously calculated, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction sending it back to him.
This inspired me to start a blog about my journey of recovery and empowerment. To my surprise, the blog resonated with many, and soon, a publisher reached out with an interest in turning my experiences into a book.
On the other hand, Henry’s pursuit for repayment dwindled, especially once he realized the potential public fallout and legal ramifications.
“I cannot believe that you did that, Kyra,” Henry said. “People are messaging me constantly now. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why would you post the invoice I sent you? You owe me!”
I sat in front of the TV and let Henry vent on speaker.
I had absolutely no intention of explaining myself. My blog did expose him—and sure, I did post the invoice. But it was my way of healing through the entire ordeal.
But as always, Henry had to make it about himself. He commented on some of the blog posts, stating that I was yet to pay him for everything.
In reply, other readers let him have it—calling him out on his selfishness.
When Brent came over for dinner, he sat down and chuckled.
“Looks like Henry got the message,” Brent said. “He has dropped all demands. It seems like he just didn’t want to risk any further exposure.”
In the end, not only did I manage to counter his pettiness with strength, but I also carved out a new path for myself.
This wasn’t just about a breakup recovery—it was a rebirth.
What would you have done?
Entitled Mom on the Flight Broke My Daughter’s iPad – She Regretted It Sooner Than I Could Have Imagined
An entitled mom thought breaking my little daughter’s iPad would end her son’s tantrums. But what came next left her more panicked than I could’ve imagined. Karma works fast… even at 30,000 feet!
I, Bethany, 35 years old, never thought a two-hour flight could change so much. But there I was, settling into my seat with my five-year-old daughter Ella next to me. As the plane taxied down the runway, I breathed a sigh of relief. Ella was contentedly watching cartoons on her iPad, headphones snug on her ears…
A cheerful little girl holding a tablet | Source: Freepik
“You comfy, sweetie?” I asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Ella nodded, her eyes glued to the screen. “Uh-huh. Can I have juice later?”
“Of course,” I smiled, reaching for my book. “Just let me know when you’re thirsty.”
As I cracked open my novel, movement across the aisle caught my eye. A family of three had just sat down: a couple and a little boy around Ella’s age. He was squirming in his seat, whining loudly.
Grayscale of a little boy throwing a tantrum | Source: Pexels
“I’m bored!” he wailed, kicking the seat in front of him.
His mother shushed him. “We told you, no screens on this trip. Be a good boy.”
The boy’s whining intensified, and I saw his gaze lock onto Ella’s iPad.
Oh boy, I thought. This might be a long flight.
A little boy crying | Source: Pexels
Twenty minutes in, a tap on my shoulder made me look up. The mom from across the aisle was leaning towards me, a tight smile on her face.
“Hi there! I couldn’t help but notice your daughter’s iPad. We’ve decided to be responsible parents and not give our son any screen time this vacation. Would you mind putting that away? It’s making him upset.”
I blinked, stunned by her audacity. “Excuse me?”
“It’s just… it’s not fair to him, you know?”
An annoyed woman sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “I’m sorry, but no. My daughter’s using it to stay calm during the flight.”
The woman’s smile vanished instantly. “Wow, really? You’d rather ruin our family trip than have your daughter take a break from her precious screen?”
“Listen,” I said, my patience wearing thin, “she’s quietly minding her own business. Your son could do the same if you’d brought him something to do.”
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The woman, let’s just call her “Entitled Mom (EM)” was visibly frustrated.
“Some parents just can’t say no to their kids these days. No wonder they all end up spoiled.”
I turned back to my book, hoping that would end the conversation. But I could feel her glare burning into the side of my head.
“Everything okay, Mommy?” Ella asked, momentarily looking up from her show.
“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Just keep watching your cartoons.”
Little girl holding a tablet in an airplane | Source: Pexels
The next hour was tense. The boy’s tantrum escalated, his wails piercing through the cabin noise.
His parents shot us dirty looks every few minutes, as if we were personally responsible for their poor planning.
“I want that!” the boy shrieked, pointing at Ella’s iPad. “It’s not fair!”
His mother leaned over. “I know, honey. Some people are just SELFISH!”
I gritted my teeth, focusing on my book. The words blurred as I tried to block out the chaos around us. Ella remained oblivious, lost in her cartoons.
Grayscale of a sad boy | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, a commotion erupted beside us. Entitled Mom had leaned across the aisle, reaching for her bag. But instead of grabbing her belongings, her arm knocked into Ella’s tray table.
Time seemed to slow as I watched Ella’s iPad slide off the tray. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of fractures.
Ella’s scream cut through the air. “Mommy, my iPad!”
A tablet with a shattered screen | Source: Midjourney
Entitled Mom’s face lit with fake surprise. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to do that! So clumsy of me!”
But I saw the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. This was NO ACCIDENT.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
She shrugged, not even trying to hide her smugness. “These things happen. Maybe it’s a sign she needs less screen time.”
Two women arguing | Source: Midjourney
I was about to unleash a torrent of words that would make a sailor blush when a flight attendant appeared.
“Is everything alright here?” she asked, eyeing the shattered iPad.
Entitled Mom’s act kicked into high gear. “Oh, it was just a terrible accident. I feel awful!”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the flight attendant cut me off with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m so sorry about your device, ma’am. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do mid-flight. Please let us know if you need anything else.”
A flight attendant smiling | Source: Midjourney
As she walked away, I turned to comfort my distraught daughter, knowing this battle was far from over. But it seemed karma had other plans.
With Ella’s iPad out of commission, the boy’s tantrum reached new heights. He bounced in his seat, kicked the chair in front of him, and yanked on the tray table.
“Sweetie, please settle down,” Entitled Mom pleaded.
“I’m bored! This is the worst trip ever!”
A little boy covering his eye | Source: Pexels
I watched from the corner of my eye, torn between sympathy for the child and a petty sense of satisfaction at Entitled Mom’s struggle.
Ella tugged on my sleeve, her eyes still watery. “Mommy, can you fix it?”
I hugged her close. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We’ll have to get it looked at when we land. How about we read a book instead?”
A little girl crying in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
As I reached into my bag for another book, chaos erupted across the aisle.
The boy, in a fit of hyperactivity, had knocked over Entitled Mom’s coffee cup. The dark liquid spread across her lap and splashed into her open handbag.
“No, no, no!” she cried, frantically trying to save her belongings.
In her haste to rescue her bag, something fell out and landed on the floor. Yikes! It was a small blue booklet. I took a closer look and gasped. It was her PASSPORT!
Coffee spilling from a cup | Source: Midjourney
Before anyone could react, her son’s foot came down on the fallen document, grinding it into the coffee-soaked carpet.
God, you should’ve seen Entitled Mom’s face. It was EPIC!
She snatched up the passport, but the damage was done. The pages were soaked through, stuck together in a soggy mess. The cover was warped beyond recognition. It looked like a water-logged, soggy piece of toast.
A startled woman | Source: Pexels
“Ma’am?” A flight attendant approached. “Is that your passport?”
Entitled Mom nodded, speechless for once.
“I’m so sorry, but I have to inform you that a damaged passport could cause serious issues when we land. Especially if you’re traveling internationally.”
Entitled Mom’s eyes widened in panic. She turned to her husband, seeking a way out. “What are we going to do? Our connecting flight to Paris leaves in three hours!”
Side view of a flight attendant | Source: Midjourney
Her husband shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe we can explain at customs?”
As they bickered, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of malevolence.
As the plane began its descent, Entitled Mom was frantically dabbing at her ruined passport with tissues, muttering under her breath. Her son, exhausted from his earlier tantrums, had finally fallen asleep.
An anxious man | Source: Midjourney
I leaned over to Ella, who was reading her storybook with a big smile. “Great job, sweetie! You’re a real bookworm!”
She beamed at me, her earlier distress over the iPad forgotten. “Can we bake cupcakes when we get home, Mommy?”
“Absolutely,” I promised, ruffling her hair. “And maybe we can bake some cookies too!”
A soft whimper from across the aisle drew my attention. Entitled Mom was on the phone, her eyes brimming with panic.
Grayscale of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, I understand it’s last minute, but we need to reschedule our entire trip. No, we can’t make the connecting flight. Because… because my passport is ruined.”
I couldn’t help but overhear as she explained the situation, detailing how she’d have to go through the process of getting an emergency passport before they could continue their journey.
As we began to taxi to our gate, Entitled Mom caught my eye as we stood to disembark.
An anxious woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of remorse in her eyes. But then her son started whining again, and the moment passed.
“Ready to go, Ella?” I asked, helping her gather her things.
“Can we get ice cream at the airport, Mommy?”
“I think we deserve a little treat, don’t you think?!” I laughed.
A boy opening his mouth | Source: Pexels
As we made our way off the plane, I couldn’t help but reflect on the bizarre turn of events. What had started as a simple two-hour flight had turned into a lesson in karma, patience, and the unpredictability of travel.
I glanced back one last time to see Entitled Mom still frantically trying to salvage her ruined passport. It was a grim reminder that our actions, good or bad, often have unexpected consequences.
A frustrated woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
Turns out, it wasn’t just Ella’s iPad that got ruined on that flight. Entitled Mom ended up losing something much more valuable!
As we walked hand in hand towards the baggage claim, I squeezed Ella’s fingers, thankful for the perspective this chaotic flight had given me. Sometimes, the best lessons come from the worst experiences.
Have you ever encountered a nightmare neighbor on a flight? Share your own flight horror stories in the comments!
Lady with a little girl leaving an airport | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: An entitled rich man mocks a poor boy shining shoes in an underpass. He learns a brutal lesson the very next day.
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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