My Stepmom Told Me to Wash Dishes After Her Birthday Party Because I Didn’t Gift Her a Dishwasher – Karma Hit back for Her Audacity

When Mia’s stepmother, Trudy, plans an elaborate party for her 45th birthday, Mia has no choice but to do as she is told, including being a hidden helper throughout the festivities. But lucky for Mia, karma seems to be on her side, ready to teach Trudy a lesson.

Grab some popcorn, folks, because this story is one of those moments when the universe steps in and delivers a cosmic smackdown right when you least expect it.

Let me introduce you to the key players of the story:

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

I’m Mia. I’m sixteen years old and stuck in a suburban home with my dad and stepmom, Trudy. Trudy’s been around for about two years, and, oh boy, does she have the “wicked stepmother” act down perfectly.

If you looked up “entitled” in the dictionary, I’m pretty sure you’d find her picture staring back at you.

Life with her has felt like living inside a bad reality show, but no one is filming, and definitely not paying me for my trouble.

A close up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney

A close up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney

Dad stays out of the way as much as he can. He’s the “happy wife, happy life” type of man, except that Trudy’s never really happy. She’s the type who expects the world to fall at her feet and cater to her every whim.

Now, let’s talk about last Saturday, the day of Trudy’s birthday party. It was so over-the-top that, honestly, it could have been a wedding reception.

It was her 45th birthday, and Trudy was trying to hold on to her youth in any way she could. In the week leading up to the party, she strutted around the house like some kind of queen.

A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney

“You’d better get me something special this year, Mia,” she said when she came into the kitchen as I was cutting up fruit for my morning smoothie. “A dishwasher would be nice. After all, I’ve done a lot for you.”

Yeah, sure. Good old Trudy. She’s done a lot for me… if you count bossing me around like I’m some sort of Cinderella knockoff.

A close up of a smoothie | Source: Midjourney

A close up of a smoothie | Source: Midjourney

“Uh, Trudy,” I said, adding yogurt to the blender, “I’m kind of saving for my prom dress.”

I already knew where this conversation was going.

Her face twisted into this weird look, like she couldn’t believe I just said that.

“Your prom dress?” she scoffed. “Mia, that’s ridiculous! You can just buy something from one of the clothing stores. Something cheap. A dishwasher is much more practical. I don’t want to hear any more excuses.”

A woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

Excuses? I was floored. This woman really expected me to drop all my savings on an appliance just because she “deserved” it. Like, where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?

And anyway, Trudy was the one who convinced my dad that I was too young to get an after-school or weekend job.

“Mia can only babysit kids on this street,” Trudy told my dad one night at dinner. “She’ll be safe and only a few houses away from home. And anyway, it’s not like she needs that much money.”

A woman sitting at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney

So, all my prom dress savings? They were from babysitting jobs that I had taken over the past year.

They wouldn’t even cover a tiny dishwasher, let alone the dress I wanted. But I was determined to still find something that I loved.

Fast forward to the day of Trudy’s 45th birthday. The house was buzzing with caterers, an event planner ran around with a clipboard, and enough floral arrangements to rival a garden center.

An outdoor birthday party setting | Source: Midjourney

An outdoor birthday party setting | Source: Midjourney

Meanwhile, I was in the background, wiping down mirrors, setting up drink stations, and generally trying to avoid all eye contact.

“Jeez,” I said to myself, “are the Royal Family coming over?”

I set up the gin station and tried to leave for my room, hoping that I would make myself presentable before Trudy’s posse of friends showed up.

A gin station | Source: Midjourney

A gin station | Source: Midjourney

As soon as the guests arrived, Trudy transformed into some kind of celebrity. She walked around, tossing fake smiles and soaking up compliments like she was at the Oscars or something.

“Mia! Can you refill the drinks? My guests are thirsty!” she barked from the marquee outside.

Of course, I had no choice but to do so. I couldn’t say no. Not with so many people around. Trudy would probably implode.

A woman wearing a gold dress | Source: Midjourney

A woman wearing a gold dress | Source: Midjourney

I did as I was told, floating around like the invisible Cinderella. I was counting down the minutes until we lit the candles on the elaborate cake and the whole day would just dwindle into nothing.

I hid away for a few moments, finally able to get my hands on some food. At least Trudy loved her food, and she had told the caterers that she wanted elaborate meals.

“You’re hiding here, kiddo?” my dad chuckled when he caught me eating a portion of lobster mac and cheese.

A bowl of lobster mac and cheese | Source: Midjourney

A bowl of lobster mac and cheese | Source: Midjourney

“I’m starving, Dad,” I said, eating another forkful of food. “And everyone is eating anyway.”

“Take some time off, Mimi,” he said. “Eat. I’ll bring you one of those fancy milkshakes from the milkshake station.”

Soon after, it was time for the cake. My dad lit the candles while Trudy beamed like a Cheshire cat and did a little dance.

A gold and white cake | Source: Midjourney

A gold and white cake | Source: Midjourney

Everyone sang for her at the top of their voices, and Trudy blew out the candles. As the party was winding down, she clinked her fork against her wine glass and fixed me with that awful, expectant glare of hers.

“Mia, since you didn’t bother to buy me a dishwasher for my birthday, the least you could do is wash all these dishes. It’s only fair.”

I stood there, stunned for a second. Everyone went quiet. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at me like I was the villain in this scenario.

She really said it. Out loud. In front of all her friends.

A smug woman in a gold dress | Source: Midjourney

A smug woman in a gold dress | Source: Midjourney

“You didn’t get your mom a birthday present?” one of Trudy’s friends, Alexis, said. “That’s just… rude. And sad.”

My throat tightened, but I managed to keep my voice calm.

“Trudy, I told you, I didn’t have the money. Especially for a dishwasher. I’ve been saving for prom.”

She waved her hand like I was talking nonsense.

An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

“Just wash the dishes, Mia,” she said. “Do something useful for once.”

I could have screamed. But instead, I swallowed my pride and nodded.

“Fine. I’ll get changed and started on them,” I said.

I spent the next hour elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing until my fingers went numb. I wanted to cry, but instead, I just scrubbed harder, imagining the day I’d finally escape this madhouse.

A teenager washing dishes | Source: Midjourney

A teenager washing dishes | Source: Midjourney

By the time I finished, the party was over, and Trudy’s friends were long gone. I dragged myself to bed, emotionally drained.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Trudy’s shriek coming from the kitchen. I thought maybe one of her fancy new gadgets broke. She had just bought herself a lavish new coffee machine that looked like it belonged in a coffee shop.

A coffee machine | Source: Midjourney

A coffee machine | Source: Midjourney

But when I walked into the kitchen, I found her standing in the middle of a disaster zone.

The kitchen was trashed.

The smell of burnt plastic filled the air, and the floor was flooded.

“Mia!” she screamed when she saw me. “Look at what happened!”

A flooded kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A flooded kitchen | Source: Midjourney

I blinked, still half-asleep.

“What… what is going on?”

“The pipes!” she shrieked, flailing her arms. “Oh, my kitchen is ruined! This is going to cost a fortune to fix!”

“But everything was fine last night when I went to bed. What happened here?”

My dad stuck his head into the kitchen.

An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney

“Trudy, did you really drop all the meat oils into the sink last night?” my dad asked.

“I did!” she said. “I didn’t know where else to throw it out. And the caterers left without taking it. But I did throw some drain cleaner down the sink, too.”

“Oh, Trudy! You’re not supposed to do that! Now look! You messed this up! I told you to just pour out a kettle of boiling water.”

Oil being poured in a sink | Source: Midjourney

Oil being poured in a sink | Source: Midjourney

My first instinct was to laugh. I know I shouldn’t have, but come on. After everything? Didn’t it just seem like karma played a part in this, too?

While Trudy was losing her mind, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny smirk tugging at my lips. I didn’t say a word.

For the next week, the kitchen was completely out of commission. My dad, bless his heart, tried to soothe her, but the damage was done. The cost of the repairs was so high that Dad announced that they’d have to cut back on expenses.

An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney

“Except for Mia,” he said. “I have $500 for her prom dress.”

“You can’t be serious, David!” Trudy hissed. “You want me to pay for the new kitchen tiles, but you can spoil Mia?”

“You spoiled yourself for your party. I can spoil my child for her prom.”

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

And that was how Trudy learned not to cross my dad. But she did change her tune a bit. She allowed me to get my part-time job, and she tried to actually mend things with me.

“I’ll come with you when you go looking for your dress, Mia,” she said.

Do you think it will last?

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

I Found a Girl Alone on a Dark Road – What I Saw When I Got Closer Will Haunt You

Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother sees a young girl in a torn dress, quiet and strangely familiar. As she drives closer, she notices the girl’s sad eyes, filled with secrets that might be best left unknown.

It was late, and the night seemed darker than ever. The fog hugged the car like a thick blanket, hiding everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, holding the steering wheel tighter than usual.

Source: Pexels

“Just get home,” I whispered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been a long day at work, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.

I always avoided this road. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I thought: A quick shortcut will save time.

Then, I noticed something in the distance. A shadow in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding. The outline was faint, but it was there in the mist.

Source: Pexels

“Please just be a tree or a mailbox,” I whispered, though I knew it wasn’t. As I drove closer, I realized it was a girl. She looked thin, and her white dress was in tatters.

A chill ran down my spine. Every instinct told me to turn back, but something held me there.

I cracked open the window, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”

I stepped out of the car with a flashlight. The beam lit up her face, and I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes—it was my daughter.

“Emily?” I whispered, barely believing it. She looked at me, eyes empty and wide.

Source: Pexels

“Mommy?” Her voice was faint, like a distant echo.

Shock and relief overwhelmed me. It was Emily, my daughter who’d been missing for five years. She had vanished without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to her.

“Emily, oh my God… it’s you,” I stammered, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”

She blinked slowly, her expression blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t spoken in years.

I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. We’re going home now, alright?” I wrapped my coat around her thin shoulders and led her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out into the fog.

Source: Pexels

The drive home was quiet. I glanced over at her, but her face was blank, as if she were somewhere far away.

“Emily,” I asked gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was dark. There was a man, but I can’t remember his face.”

My throat tightened. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’re going home.”

When we got home, she sat on the couch, looking around as if everything was unfamiliar. I asked if she remembered the place, but she only shrugged. Her voice was flat and empty.

“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m… cold.”

I wrapped a blanket around her, feeling her icy skin. The days that followed were tense. Emily was distant, barely speaking. The only time I heard her voice clearly was when she sang an old lullaby I used to sing to her. It felt strange because she shouldn’t have remembered it.

Source: Pexels

One day, I found her looking at old photo albums. Her fingers traced a picture of her father, Mark. He had died when she was a baby.

“Mom?” she said, confused. “I know him.”

I felt a chill. “That’s your dad, honey. I’ve told you about him.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I know him from… the place.”

A cold wave of fear washed over me. Emily couldn’t remember Mark, but she knew someone who looked like him. It had to be his brother, Jake. They looked so alike, almost like twins.

I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. I needed answers.

The next morning, I drove to our old family cabin deep in the woods. It had been abandoned for years, but something felt off when I arrived. One of the windows was covered with a cloth. Why would someone do that?

I pushed the door open, dust swirling in the air. Everything was untouched except for a small room in the back. Inside, toys lay scattered, worn but well-loved. My heart sank. This was where Emily had been kept.

I called the police immediately. Hours later, Emily sat quietly with me as the officers searched the cabin. She clutched her blanket, looking small and sad.

“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered. “It was Uncle Jake. He looked like Daddy, but different. He would bring food and hum that song.”

The police confirmed it that night. They found enough evidence to arrest Jake. He confessed, saying he had taken Emily to “protect” her, wanting her to rely on him. It was twisted and horrifying to realize he had been so close all this time.

Source: Pexels

When Emily heard the truth, she broke down, crying out the pain she had held inside for so long. I hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “No one will take you away again.”

In the days that followed, Emily started to open up more. She would hum the lullaby at night, as if testing if it was safe to sing it again.

One evening, we sat together by the window. She leaned against me, and I softly hummed the lullaby like I used to. She looked up at me with a hint of peace in her eyes.

“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.

Tears filled my eyes as I held her close. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”

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