Cleaning the attic was supposed to be an ordinary task until my husband went ballistic thinking I’d thrown away a torn-down jacket. That clothing item ended up unraveling the truth about something he was doing behind my back. And that led to something I never expected in all my life!
It was a crisp fall afternoon when I decided it was finally time to tackle the attic. For years, it had been a catch-all for everything from holiday decorations to old clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades. I’d been meaning to clean it out for ages, but what I found in it led to me becoming a single woman after years of marriage…
Like everything else in life, cleaning the attic kept getting pushed down the list. My husband, Jeff, had mentioned before that most of the stuff up there was junk anyway. In fact, just last year, he told me his old high school jacket, now sitting forgotten in a pile of boxes, should go straight to the dump.
With that in mind, I started pulling things out, one by one. A broken lamp, boxes of our now-grown kids’ school projects, and, of course, Jeff’s old jacket. I barely glanced at it before tossing it into the pile meant for the dump.
It was faded and torn in a few places, and it smelled like it had been trapped in a musty attic for years. Not exactly a sentimental keepsake, right?
That evening, we sat down for dinner, the kind of normal weeknight meal where we barely had time to talk before cleaning up and moving on with the night. The air smelled like roasted chicken, but my husband of twenty years was oddly quiet.
He picked at his food for a while before I broke the silence.
“I cleaned out the attic today,” I said casually, trying to start a lighthearted conversation between us. “Threw out a bunch of our old junk.”
Jeff froze. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth before he dropped it onto the plate with a clatter.
“What JUNK?” he asked, his voice rising sharply, eyes wide like I’d just told him the house was on fire.
“Just some old stuff from the attic. Why?” I tried to keep my tone light, but the way his expression shifted had me worried.
Without another word, my husband immediately pushed back his chair, nearly knocking it over in his haste to get upstairs. I stayed behind, confused by his sudden panic. I heard him rummaging through boxes, muttering to himself.
Moments later, he came storming downstairs, fists clenched at his sides.
“Where’s my old school jacket?” His voice was dangerously low, with an edge to it I hadn’t heard before. He looked like he was ready to punch the walls!
I blinked at him, trying to figure out why he cared so much.
“I probably tossed it,” I said. “It was in a pile of stuff for the dump.”
The color literally drained from his face, and I could almost see the pulse pounding in his temple!
“You THREW it away?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury. “I told you to throw away the junk, not that jacket!”
I stood there, dumbfounded. “Jeff, last year you said that jacket was trash… literally said it belonged in the dump!”
He let out a bitter laugh that sent chills down my spine.
“Well, guess what? The day I married YOU was a curse!”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut! And before I could respond, he stormed out of the house, grabbed his car keys, and peeled out of the driveway.
For a second, I was too shocked to move! But then something told me to follow him. Grabbing my purse, I jumped into my car and raced after him, my heart pounding. Where could he possibly be going in such a rage?
When I saw him pull into the entrance of the local dump, it all started to click into place!
The jacket. He was here to find that old jacket. But why? There had to be something more to it than just nostalgia. And what the hell did he mean that marrying me was a “curse?”
But soon enough, I’d find out what was in that jacket and why it would wreck our marriage…
I parked and hurried after him, catching sight of my husband frantically searching through piles of trash. I’d never seen him like this before… so on edge, so wild! My heart raced as I approached him.
“Jeff, what is going on? Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice trembling now.
He stopped digging, turning to face me, his face pale.
“Because, Stacy,” he spat, “I was saving money. Fifty thousand dollars. For us… to buy a new house.”
I took a step back, trying to process what he was saying. Fifty thousand? In an old, ratty jacket?
But then his words echoed in my head. “For US.” I didn’t believe it. Something felt wrong… really wrong.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t think I had to!” he snapped, returning to his desperate search. “I was going to surprise you. Now it’s all gone BECAUSE of you!”
Back then, I had no idea what he was actually doing behind my back and that there was more to the money he’d saved!
I went with his lie.
I watched him sift through heaps of trash, his hands filthy, and something inside me twisted. Despite desperately wanting to believe him, his story wasn’t adding up. But I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. We never found the jacket that night. Eventually, after hours of searching, Jeff slumped down in defeat.
He wouldn’t even look at me.
We drove home in our separate cars, and I was silent as I continued contemplating my husband’s actions and statements. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. After we got home, Jeff went straight to the bedroom without a word.
I sat on the couch, staring at the wall, my mind racing. What was it about that jacket? Why was he acting like this? Was there really money in the jacket?
An hour passed, and I heard my husband’s voice, low and hushed, from the bedroom. I crept up to the door, leaning close enough to hear his words through the thin walls.
“I don’t have the money anymore,” Jeff was saying. “That useless woman threw it out with the jacket!”
My breath caught in my throat…
“No, I wasn’t saving it for me and her,” he continued. “It was for the house… for US, like we said.”
My blood turned to ice. “US?” He wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about someone else!
I pushed open the door, unable to hold back my anger any longer!
“WHO are you talking to, Jeff?”
His face went pale as he turned to face me, phone still in hand. “Stacy… I…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Who were you going to buy a house with?”
He didn’t answer, just stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
But I didn’t NEED him to answer. I already knew. There was someone else. Someone who had been waiting for that fifty thousand dollars.
“I’m filing for divorce,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “The kids and everyone is going to find out the truth about who you really are. You called me useless to your mistress, Jeff…”
It was the only thing that made sense now.
Jeff’s face twisted in anger, but I didn’t stay to hear his excuses. I walked out and didn’t look back.
A month after the divorce, I found myself back in the attic since I’d won the house in our filing. The chaos of the last few weeks had kept me from returning, but I needed to get my old sewing machine for a project I’d started.
As I sifted through boxes, my hand brushed against something soft… something familiar.
There, at the bottom of a box I had somehow missed, was Jeff’s old jacket.
I froze, pulling it out and staring at it in disbelief. I hadn’t thrown it away after all!
With trembling hands, I checked the inside pocket, and there it was… the fifty thousand dollars, neatly folded, exactly where he had hidden it!
But this time, there was no rush to tell anyone. No need to share. Jeff had made his choices, and now I was making mine. I kept the money, my heart racing at the thought of what it meant for my future.
This time, it was my secret to keep…
Entitled Mother on the Plane Damaged My Daughter’s iPad – She Faced Regret Quicker Than I Ever Expected
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…
“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.
“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.
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?”
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.”
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.”
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.
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!”
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.”
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.”
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!”
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?”
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!
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.
“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!”
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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!
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