When Samantha reaches a huge milestone at work, she decides to celebrate the moment by treating herself to something expensive—a pair of diamond earrings. But when she and her husband are with their friends, and Ross takes full credit for it, she wants nothing more than to embarrass him. Will she do it? And more importantly, will she regret it?
I’ve always thought of myself as being an independent woman. Even when I got married to Ross—I knew that I needed to have my own sense of independence in some way. Which is how I threw myself into my career.
A woman wearing a blazer | Source: Pexels
I work for a fashion house, writing content and making our catalogs look great. Recently, work has been going really well, and I received a promotion.
“Well done, Samantha!” my boss gushed. “You’re the person who takes our vision and translates it to the public. It’s a gift.”
Of course, I loved my job so it felt like the biggest reward to be acknowledged for my work.
A woman writing in a notebook | Source: Unsplash
I celebrated my promotion by spoiling myself.
“What do you want to get for yourself?” my work colleague, Carol, asked me during our lunch.
“I don’t know,” I said, drizzling dressing all over my salad. “I don’t own anything incredibly fancy. So, I’m thinking jewelry.”
A plate of salad on a table | Source: Unsplash
Carol and I went to the jewelry store across from the café we had lunch.
“Let’s just look around,” Carol said.
A display at a jewelry store | Source: Unsplash
We walked around the store and I looked through the glass displays, waiting for something to catch my eyes. Which was when I saw them—a pair of exquisite diamond earrings.
“That’s the one,” I said.
The woman behind the display beamed at me.
“This is going to complement your eyes,” she said, putting the earrings into a beautiful velvet box.
A pair of diamond earrings | Source: Pexels
That evening when I got home from work, I took the box out, ready to show Ross the symbol of my hard-earned achievement at work.
“That looks expensive,” Ross said, piling pasta onto plates for us. “Was it?”
“It was,” I agreed. “But I wanted to treat myself. I’ve been working really hard at work, so this is the reward I decided on.”
“You have been,” Ross agreed. “It’s good to spoil yourself sometimes.”
A man in the kitchen | Source: Unsplash
I knew that my husband was trying to be proud of me—but he didn’t like when I was able to spoil myself. He had never actually said it, but it always showed in his reactions.
Later as we got ready for bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the room as I fiddled with the edge of the duvet, avoiding Ross’s gaze.
I felt a sense of tension between us, the air thick with unspoken words.
A woman sitting on the bed | Source: Pexels
Ross had been quiet for the rest of the dinner, his responses clipped, smiles forced. I noticed it, of course, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to his mood. I just felt horrible that Ross felt a certain way about me treating myself.
“Ross,” I said as he got into bed with his laptop in hand. “I know you think these earrings are too much, but it’s just that—”
“No, Sam,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s just that sometimes I feel bad that you have to buy these things for yourself. I feel like I should spoil you, too.”
A man sitting on the bed with his laptop | Source: Pexels
We spoke for a few hours after that, and I tried to reassure my husband that everything was fine—I didn’t want us to get into a fight over something that didn’t need to become one.
We were good. Other than this, Ross and I were absolutely fine.
We spent the rest of the week meeting each other during the work day for coffee. Just to check in with each other during the day.
A couple sitting together and drinking coffee | Source: Pexels
But then, the weekend rolled around and Ross’s behavior shocked me.
We had a group of really good friends that we saw regularly. The whole group tried to meet for drinks or a meal at least every two weeks.
So, this weekend we planned on doing lunch at a new restaurant.
An interior of a restaurant | Source: Unsplash
We all sat around the table, with everyone breaking away to talk about their own things.
“Your earrings are stunning,” our friend, Macy, said. “Where did you get them?”
Before I could reply, Ross began to tell his own story of the earrings.
Women sitting together and laughing | Source: Pexels
“I got them from the store here,” he said, gesturing in the direction of the jewelry store.
“Oh! I’ve seen it,” Macy retorted. “But I haven’t been inside.”
“Yeah, I just felt that Samantha needed to be spoiled a bit. She’s been working so hard lately. So, I surprised her with the earrings and her favorite chocolate,” Ross said.
A box of chocolate | Source: Pexels
There were a few pats on his back from some of the guys. And the ladies gushed over how sweet my husband apparently was.
“Don,” Macy said to her husband. “You could learn a thing or two from Ross.”
I sat there, looking at my cocktail, feeling utterly betrayed. Earlier that week Ross had looked like a sad puppy because I had done something for myself.
And now?
A cocktail with a black straw | Source: Pexels
Here he was, sitting with our friend group and taking advantage of the fact that I had not spoken up and told everyone the truth.
But could I? If I said anything, Ross would be nothing but embarrassed.
“I mean,” he continued. “I was spoiled for choice! There were so many options, but I settled on these because Sam just feels like a diamond girl. They cost a fortune!”
A man sitting and smiling at the camera | Source: Pexels
Our food arrived and I dug into my prawns in silence. I didn’t mind that Ross wanted to be included in the story. But it bugged me that he had taken over it.
The whole reason for these earrings was for me to prove to myself that I was good at my job and worthy of good things—material things that I could provide for myself.
But Ross’s lie gnawed away at me for the entire meal.
Prawns and noodles in a plate | Source: Pexels
As we paid and left the restaurant, I made sure to walk past the jewelry store. I wasn’t going to point it out, but I knew Macy would.
Macy was the type of person that if someone had something fancy, then she would shortly have her own—after persuading her husband to buy it for her.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “This is the store, right?”
I nodded and allowed myself to be dragged inside the door.
A jewelry store display | Source: Unsplash
“Mrs. Carter,” the woman behind the counter called out. “Back so soon?”
It was as if something came undone in that moment. And I found myself wanting to get back at Ross.
“Yes!” I said. “I wanted to see what else you have. Rings, maybe?”
She beamed and called for Macy and I to meet her at a counter—our husbands were behind us, eyeing the jewelry and the prices attached to it.
“Would I be able to exchange something?” I asked the woman.
A diamond ring display | Source: Pexels
She nodded slowly, eyeing the earrings that I was wearing.
“We do accept returns and exchanges,” she said. “Provided that there’s proof of payment and the quality of the item has not been tarnished in any way.”
“You want to return your earrings?” Macy asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Well, I’m looking at this ring,” I said, pointing to a gorgeous ring in the display. “It’s stunning, but the earrings just won’t go with them.”
A woman holding a diamond ring | Source: Pexels
My husband stepped forward and put his arm around me, while holding onto his wallet.
“But you love the earrings, Sam,” he said. “Why don’t you just keep them and think about it.”
“No,” I said stubbornly. “I think I’d like the ring better.”
“You’ll have to give me your details,” the woman said from behind the counter.
Ross gave his full name—knowing full well that nothing would show up. Because he did not buy my earrings, and I wanted to embarrass him.
A man holding a wallet | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said. “But there are no purchases under your name here.”
“Really?” Ross asked sheepishly. “That’s a problem.”
“I’m so sure it’s under Mrs. Carter’s details,” she continued. “The earrings were purchased on her card.”
My husband’s face turned red in embarrassment. He didn’t meet my eye—knowing that I was upset with how he had downplayed my involvement in the earrings.
A man turned away from the camera | Source: Pexels
“It’s right here,” she said, looking at her computer. “Do you really want to return them, Mrs. Carter? Like I said the day you purchased them, they really suit your eyes.”
In the end, I declined wanting to switch my earrings for the ring. I had no intention of doing so—I just wanted to teach Ross a lesson.
Macy and Don looked at each other, and I knew that they were judging us. But I didn’t care, Macy was a material girl and would forget about the whole thing once Don bought her a pair of earrings, too.
A woman wearing red | Source: Pexels
The car ride home was enveloped in a profound silence.
Ross seemed to shrink beside me, his earlier bravado having dissolved into quiet reflection.
That evening, he shared his insecurities, confessing that his lie was an ill-conceived attempt to share in my accomplishments.
My emotions were mixed—relief at his honesty and acknowledgment of what he had done.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Pexels
But my relief was also tinged with sorrow—I hated that my husband felt the need to compete.
The next day, Ross left home claiming that he had an errand to run. When he returned, I was reading a book, waiting for him to get back.
“Where have you been?” I asked him.
Ross just smiled at me and handed me a gift box.
A woman reading a book | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry for dismissing your feelings,” he said. “This is to match your earrings.”
Inside the gift bag was a beautiful diamond necklace.
“I didn’t mean to outshine you,” he confessed. “You earned them by yourself. I just felt guilty that I haven’t been able to spoil you in the way you should be spoiled, Sam.”
The gift was a heartfelt gesture, and while a part of me wanted to return it—I knew that if I did so, I would hurt his feelings even more.
The previous day, when I had wanted to embarrass him—it wasn’t to hurt him. It was just to feel seen.
And after we spoke about it—I think we’re finally on the same page.
A gift box with a bow | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
My Daughter’s Landlord Schemed Against Her to Evict and Hike the Rent – We Outsmarted Him with a Clever Lesson
“And he has given me two days to move out,” she continued.
I was fuming. My daughter had transformed that backyard from a barren plot into a blooming oasis. She poured her heart into every plant, every flower, and every single vegetable.
She had always been like this. Lily wasn’t the type of child to sit inside and play with her toys. She preferred to stay outside and get her hands dirty, trying to discover how things grew.
“This is so much fun, Dad,” she told me one day when I was mowing the lawn and little Lily was planting flowers.
“There’s a few worms there,” she said, pointing. “But I still planted the seedlings anyway.”
Her mother hated it. She wanted Lily to have freshly pressed clothing, clean nails, and hair that stayed in place.
“You need to stop enabling this behavior, Jason,” my wife, Jenna, would say. “Encourage her to be a little lady.”
“Not a chance, Jenna,” I would always say. “Let this sweet girl just be herself.”
Now, after everything Lily had done to make her garden her own space, all I wanted to do was try and save her hard work.
“Don’t worry, honey,” I said, a plan already forming in my mind.
“How, Dad?” she asked.
“Because we’ll sort this out. And we’ll do it together.”
The next evening, I showed up at Lily’s place with my truck and a few friends. We were armed with flashlights and a healthy dose of righteous anger.
“Right, guys,” I said. “We’re going to do this for my daughter. We’re going to teach Jack a lesson. That as a landlord, you cannot go around and take advantage of young women.”
We meticulously dismantled the entire backyard haven that Lily put together.
“Dad?” Lily asked when she realized that we were there. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, darling,” I said. “We’re going to teach your landlord a lesson. He cannot do this. So, we’re going to take everything apart. I’ll take your plants home, too.”
Lily yawned and stretched.
“I’ll leave you to it, Dad,” she said. “I’m going to rest for a little bit and then get back to packing up the place when the sun comes up. I’m going to stay with Nolan until I find a place. He’ll be here with more boxes soon.”
“Go on,” I said. “We’ll be quiet, I promise.”
As we worked, every lovingly tended plant, every painstakingly built bed, vanished. By the time we were done, the once-flourishing garden was reduced to a desolate patch of dirt, a stark contrast to the lush photos Jack, the landlord, had already posted for the new listing.
“Thanks, guys,” I said. “You can leave. I’ll just help Lily pack. I’ll pick up my truck later, Malcolm.”
I wasn’t done. There was still more work to be done.
Inside the house, we rearranged the furniture to highlight all the faults.
The cracks in the walls were not hidden by Lily’s art pieces. The missing tiles were left out in the open without any kitchen appliances to cover them up.
“Nothing can be done about the ceiling mold in the bathroom,” Lily told me. “But I have been telling the landlord that we needed to sort it out.”
We replaced all the light bulbs with very bright blue-white ones, making the entire place look stark and uninviting.
As we worked, Lily and I talked about her time in the house.
“I remember when I first moved in,” she said, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The backyard was just dirt and concrete. And I didn’t think that anything could grow here. But eventually it did. And every time I felt homesick, I would come out here and plant something new or tend to whatever was growing.”
“And you made it happen,” I replied, smiling. “You turned it into a paradise.”
She sighed.
“It just feels so unfair. I did everything right, and he still found a way to ruin it all.”
“We’re not going to let him win,” I assured her. “This is just a setback. You’ve got a new adventure waiting for you. Nolan’s place is a good stop for now, but I know that he’s serious about you. Maybe a new house together is going to be the next step.”
I left my daughter’s place feeling confident that her landlord would get a really good wake-up call the next day.
“Dad, can you come over?” Lily asked me on the phone early that morning. “Please be here when I have to hand over the keys to Jack.”
“I’ll be there soon,” I said, buttering my slice of toast.
Lily had me packing her shoes into a box when Jack stormed in, livid.
“What the hell, Lily?” he demanded. “Where are the plants? The flowers? The pictures online clearly show what this place is supposed to look like!”
He sighed deeply, his face turning the color of a particularly overripe tomato.
Lily, the picture of innocence, blinked at him.
“What plants, Jack?” she asked. “The backyard has always looked like this, haven’t you noticed?”
She gestured toward the desolate patch, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Jack, caught red-handed with his deceitful plan, spluttered some incoherent threats about property damage. I stepped in, pointing at the exposed faults.
“You want to talk about damage?” I said, my voice cold.
“Let’s discuss the cracks in the walls, the missing tiles, and the mold in the bathroom. You can see everything clearly now, can’t you?”
Jack’s eyes widened as he looked into the bathroom.
“This is clearly sabotage!” he yelled.
“No,” I replied, pulling out the photos I’d taken when Lily moved in.
“This is exactly how the place was when she moved in. If anything, it’s tidier now. Nothing is missing, Jack.”
Jack tried to regain his composure, but the three couples who came for the viewing that afternoon saw the house in its raw, unappealing state. They all left without putting in an application.
Meanwhile, after a few months, Lily found a new place with a landlord who appreciated her green thumb, not just the potential for profit. As my daughter settled into her new home, I couldn’t help but feel proud.
Lily and I sat on her new porch, looking out at the spacious yard that would soon become her next gardening project.
“Dad, I can’t thank you enough,” she said, her eyes bright with relief and excitement. “I was so scared, but you knew exactly what to do.”
I smiled, squeezing her hand as we swung on the porch swing. “You did the hard part, kiddo. You stood up to him. And now, you’ve got a fresh start.”
What would you have done?
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