Jack is furious when his sister-in-law shows up to a family event in his late wife, Della’s cherished dress. But the final blow comes when she “accidentally” ruins it right in front of him. Jack holds back his anger, but karma has its way of delivering justice in ways no one expects.
It’s been six months since I lost my wife, Della, and some days it feels like I’m drowning in memories. Today was one of those days until karma decided to show up fashionably late to the party.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me rewind a bit to last week.
It was supposed to be a happy day, the 45th wedding anniversary of Della and her sister Lina’s parents. Instead, it turned into a nightmare that had me wishing I’d stayed home nursing my grief with a bottle of whiskey.
I stood in the corner of the living room, nursing a drink and trying to blend into the wallpaper.
The chatter of family and friends washed over me, a dull roar that did nothing to drown out the ache in my chest. Every laugh, every clink of glasses was a reminder that Della should’ve been here, lighting up the room with her smile.
That’s when it happened. The moment that made my blood run cold and then boil in the span of a heartbeat.
Lina appeared at the top of the stairs, and my world tilted on its axis.
She was wearing Della’s engagement dress. The one I’d given her on the night I proposed, the one she’d treasured for years. It was a soft, flowing thing in a shade of blue that matched Della’s eyes perfectly.
Seeing it on Lina felt like a violation.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My fingers tightened around my glass as Lina descended the stairs, a smug smile playing on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Jack!” she called out, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Don’t you think this dress is just perfect for the occasion?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say that wouldn’t cause a scene? That wouldn’t play right into her hands?
Lina sauntered over, her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “What’s wrong, Jack? Cat got your tongue?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “That’s Della’s dress,” I managed to growl.
She laughed, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, come on. It’s not like she needs it anymore. And now,” she leaned in close, her breath hot on my ear, “she can’t say no to me.”
Something snapped inside me. I was about to unleash years of pent-up fury when Lina gasped dramatically.
“Oh no!” she cried out. “I’m so clumsy!”
Time seemed to slow as I watched a wave of red wine spread across the front of Della’s dress. Lina’s eyes met mine, filled with mock innocence and very real triumph.
“Oops,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess I ruined it. Such a shame.”
I don’t remember much of what happened next. Somehow, I made it through the rest of the party without committing murder. But as I drove home that evening, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, I knew something had changed.
Back in our — my — empty house, I paced the floor like a caged animal. Memories of Della flooded my mind, sharp and painful. Her laughter, her strength, the way she always stood up to Lina’s bullshit.
“God, I miss you, Del,” I whispered to the empty room. “You always knew how to handle her.”
I could almost hear Della’s voice in my head, calm and steady. “Don’t let her get to you, Jack. She’s not worth it.”
But it wasn’t just about me anymore.
It was about honoring Della’s memory, about not letting Lina trample all over the life we’d built together.
As I collapsed onto the couch, exhausted and heartsick, a strange calm settled over me. I wouldn’t seek revenge; that’s not what Della would’ve wanted. But I wouldn’t stand in karma’s way either.
Something told me the universe had taken notice of Lina’s behavior, and it was only a matter of time before the scales balanced out.
Little did I know how right I was.
A few days later, I was mindlessly scrolling through social media, trying to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness in my chest, when a post caught my eye. It was from Lina, and it was… dramatic, to say the least.
“My dear friends,” it read, accompanied by a selfie of Lina with tears streaking her mascara, “I was robbed yesterday! They took all my cocktail outfits and branded clothes. I’m devastated!”
I blinked and read it again.
A laugh bubbled up in my throat, unexpected and a little rusty from disuse. Before I could fully process what I was reading, my phone rang. Lina’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered, curiosity getting the better of me. “Hello?”
“You colossal jerk!” Lina’s shrill voice assaulted my ear. “I know it was you! How dare you?”
I held the phone away from my ear, her tirade continuing unabated. When she paused for breath, I jumped in. “Lina, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jack! My clothes, all my designer outfits, they’re gone! And I know you’re behind it!”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was a real laugh, the kind I hadn’t experienced since Della died. “Lina, I hate to burst your bubble, but I had nothing to do with your clothes going missing.”
“Liar! Who else would do this? It’s payback for the dress, isn’t it?”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Lina, I’ve been home wallowing in my grief. I haven’t left the house in days. How exactly do you think I managed to orchestrate a theft of your wardrobe?”
She sputtered, clearly not expecting logic to enter the conversation. “But… but…”
“Look,” I said, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice, “I’m sorry you were robbed. That sucks. But it wasn’t me.”
“Then explain this!” she shrieked.
My phone pinged with an incoming message.
I pulled it away from my ear to look, and what I saw nearly made me drop it.
There, in living color, were photos of Lina’s missing clothes. But they weren’t in some thief’s lair or a pawn shop. No, they were being worn by homeless women on the street.
I saw a Gucci blazer draped over the shoulders of an elderly woman pushing a shopping cart. A Prada dress adorned a young mother cradling a baby.
I couldn’t contain myself. Laughter erupted from me, deep and genuine.
It felt foreign, almost painful, but God, it felt good.
“What’s so funny?” Lina demanded. “This isn’t a joke, Jack!”
“Oh, Lina,” I managed between chuckles, “trust me, karma works in mysterious ways.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I swear, Jack, if I find out you had anything to do with this—”
“You’ll what?” I cut her off, suddenly tired of her threats. “Look, Lina, I didn’t take your clothes. Maybe the universe decided it was time for you to learn a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to you.”
She gasped, indignant. “How dare you! I’m calling the police!”
“Go ahead,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I felt. “I’m sure they’ll be very interested in your theory about your grieving brother-in-law masterminding a charitable redistribution of your wardrobe.”
I hung up before she could respond, feeling lighter than I had in months. As I set my phone down, a memory surfaced: Della, rolling her eyes after yet another confrontation with her sister.
“One of these days,” she’d said, “Lina’s going to push too far, and it’s going to bite her in the rear.”
I smiled, raising an imaginary glass to the ceiling. “You called it, babe,” I murmured. “You always did.”
I thought that was the end of it. A bit of karmic justice, a much-needed laugh, and maybe a lesson learned for Lina. But the universe, it seemed, wasn’t quite done.
The next morning, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper and nearly tripped over a plain white envelope on the welcome mat. No address, no stamp. Just my name scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting.
Curious, I tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with three words:
“Don’t thank me.”
I stared at the note, my mind racing. Someone in the family, someone I didn’t know, or at least didn’t suspect, had taken matters into their own hands. They’d done what I’d only dreamed of doing, exacting a revenge that was as poetic as it was just.
Dad Told Me to Take Cold Showers with the Soap He Gave Me — When My Boyfriend Walked into My Bathroom, He Started Crying
When Amelia’s father gave her a soap bar and told her to take cold showers with it, she never thought he had an evil, hidden agenda behind it. Her world turned upside down when her boyfriend told her the horrifying truth about that soap.
I’ve always been Daddy’s little girl, but now I feel like throwing up when I say those words. I’m not his little girl, and he’s not the man I always thought he was. Let me tell you why.
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
So, I’ve always been close to my father, like REALLY close. I’m 23, and I lived with my parents up until a month ago because Dad never wanted me to move away.
He had given me the second floor of the house where I had my bedroom and a bathroom. Those two rooms of the house solely belonged to me. They were my safe space until the day Dad began to complain.
A man standing near a door | Source: Midjourney
My father is one of those people with a personality resembling a coconut. You know, hard on the outside and soft on the inside. He has these strict rules and principles that he abides by, but he also has this empathy inside that makes him the best Dad ever.
“Character is built in discomfort,” he’d always tell me. “You gotta face the worst now if you want a life full of luxuries ahead.”
But he’d also buy me chocolates and ice cream on days I didn’t feel good.
A woman holding an ice cream cone | Source: Pexels
Meanwhile, my mother has always been the typical loving mom. She’s always ready for hugs and kisses and never says no whenever I ask her to cook my favorite pasta. She has always been a sweetheart.
However, I recently felt that my parents were not the same anymore. Over the past few months, they had grown cold, and the love and care had suddenly vanished.
A woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I sometimes felt like I was living with two strangers in the house. It felt like we had lost the connection we always had.
Then began the unnecessary complaints and nitpicking from Dad’s side.
“You and your friends were too loud last night!”
“You’re staying out too late, Amy.”
“You’re spending too much on unnecessary things!”
Then came the complaint that really snatched my self-confidence.
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“You smell horrible, go take a cold shower and use the soap I gave you!”
I smell horrible? What? I thought. Where did that come from?
That was the day when Dad handed me this soap I had never seen before. It was a green, chunky soap bar that smelled a bit weird, but Dad had asked me to use it, assuring it would help get rid of the unpleasant body odor.
A woman holding a soap bar | Source: Pexels
His words made me feel so self-conscious that I had even stopped hanging out with my boyfriend, Henry.
I often found myself smelling my skin, clothes, hair, and even my breath, just to check what made my father feel so uncomfortable around me.
I followed his advice and used that soap whenever I took a shower. Or, if I may put it correctly, I took five showers a day just to use that soap and get rid of the smell that had apparently been haunting my father.
A woman taking a shower | Source: Pexels
I scrubbed my skin so hard that I stripped it of the moisture it needed. My skin had begun to look dry, scaly, and so rough.
Even then, my father said I still smelled like rotten onions.
“Did you use that soap, Amy? I don’t think you did,” he’d say. “You smell so bad.”
What shocked me even more was that my mother didn’t say a word when Dad humiliated me like that every day. She didn’t say anything in my defense or stop me from being so hard on myself.
A woman sitting on a chair, looking down | Source: Pexels
Mom and I had always been close. She was the only person I shared everything with since I was a kid. I’d always tell her about my latest crush, my new boyfriend, and even the new slang I’d learned at school.
I couldn’t believe it when she stood silently, avoiding my gaze, while Dad kept grilling me. I won’t ever forgive Mom for not being there for me when I needed her the most.
A woman looking down | Source: Pexels
I kept showering with the soap, and my clothes always clung to me because they were damp from the frequent showers.
Besides, I began avoiding my father. I’d always scurry up to my room and lock the door whenever he returned home from work. I didn’t want him to see me. Or, more specifically, smell me.
The turning point came when my boyfriend, Henry, came over. We had been dating for a few months, and he was the one bright spot in my increasingly bleak days.
A woman talking to her boyfriend | Source: Midjourney
Henry has always been the supportive boyfriend, the green flag we all look for. He’s always been kind to me, and he came over that day because he had noticed I had been avoiding him.
“Where have you been, Amy?” he asked as he held me by my arms.
“I was… I was just busy with some stuff, Henry,” I faked a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Really? You don’t look fine, babe,” he said.
“I’m okay, Henry,” I said as I held his hand. “Tell me one thing… Do I smell bad?”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
He laughed, thinking I was kidding.
“No, babe. You smell fine. Why?”
“Nothing. I just…” I mumbled. “Forget it.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said before going to the bathroom.
A few minutes later, I watched him step out of the bathroom with the soap bar in his hand. I could see he wasn’t too happy about it.
“Who gave you this?! Are you taking cold showers with this?!?” he asked with eyes wide open.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
How did he know this? I thought.
“Yeah, my Dad. Why?” I asked, trying my best not to panic.
“They didn’t tell you, did they?! Baby, this isn’t soap! It’s used to strip industrial machinery of grease and grime.”
“Wait, what?” I was shocked.
“This stuff is toxic, Amy. It causes chemical burns.”
I can’t explain how betrayed and heartbroken I felt at that point. How could my father do this to me? To his daughter who he loved so much?
A woman looking straight ahead, shocked | Source: Midjourney
That’s when it all started to make sense to me. The dry, itchy skin and the weird texture of the soap bar. It also made me wonder if my mother knew about this.
“I think we need to go to the hospital to get you checked,” Henry said. “And then, we’re going to the police. This is abuse, Amy.”
I don’t know why, but I stopped him.
A man sitting in his girlfriend’s house | Source: Midjourney
I knew he was telling the truth, but I couldn’t put the words “abuse” and “Dad” together. I had never seen Dad in a negative light, and I didn’t like how those words fit in the same sentence and made so much sense.
In short, I couldn’t accept that my father had tried to hurt me.
“We can’t do that,” I told Henry. “We can’t go to the police.”
“But why?” he asked.
“I’ll explain that later,” I said. “Please just help me get out of here. I’ll confront my parents later.”
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
He agreed, and we moved into a small apartment a few days later. It was cramped and barely furnished, but it felt like a safe haven compared to what I had endured.
Then, it was time for me to confront my parents. I drove back to their house the next day.
When I arrived, Dad was in his usual spot, watching TV in the living room, and Mom was in the kitchen. I walked in with the soap bar in my hand and stood in front of my dad.
A man holding a remote | Source: Pexels
“I never thought you’d do this to me, Dad,” I said as I held the soap bar high enough for him to see. “This is toxic. It’s poison. It ruined my skin. Why did you do this?”
“Oh, so you finally found what it is, huh?” he smirked. “You needed to learn a lesson.”
“A lesson?” I laughed. “You nearly killed me. For what? Because you thought I smelled bad?”
“Please stop this!” My mother finally intervened. “Amy, yo—”
“You knew, Mom, didn’t you?” I cut her off. “You were a part of this ridiculous plan, right?”
A woman in her parents’ living room | Source: Midjourney
I watched tears trickle down her cheeks, but she didn’t say a word.
“Why did you do this to me, Dad?” I confronted my father. “I need to know!”
I wasn’t ready for his response. I had no idea it would turn my world upside down.
“You want to know why?” he said, almost to himself. “Fine. When your mother and I went on that vacation last year, we had a little too much to drink. We ended up in a crowd, where a fortune teller told me that your mother had been unfaithful.”
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“What are you talking about?” I asked as my heart flipped.
“That’s true,” he continued. “When I confronted your mother the next morning, she told me the truth. She told me you weren’t mine. You’re the result of an affair she had while I was working hard for us in another country.”
I looked at my mom, who couldn’t meet my gaze. Then, I looked back at Dad as he continued to speak.
A sad woman looking down | Source: Pexels
“Your mother begged me not to leave her because she didn’t want to break our family apart,” he shook his head. “So, I agreed. But on one condition. I had to make her pay, and you too. Because YOU ARE NOT MY DAUGHTER!”
My heart shattered into a million pieces that day. I couldn’t believe my father had this evil side. The evil personality that was so hungry for unjust revenge.
A close-up shot of a woman, shocked | Source: Midjourney
“You mean you gave me that toxic soap because you were angry at Mom? Because you thought I was not your daughter?” I asked as the tears in my eyes blurred my vision.
“You’re not my daughter,” he said and turned around. “You’re not my blood.”
For the next few seconds, I stared at his back in silence, wondering why he punished me for something that wasn’t my fault.
“Alright, I’m done with you,” I said as I wiped away my tears. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
A woman about to leave her parents’ house | Source: Midjourney
And with that, I stepped out of the house that was once my haven. Over the next few days, I visited the hospital multiple times for my skin treatment and talked to my lawyer regarding how I could file a case against my parents.
Soon, my father received a notice of the restraining order and the impending lawsuit. With that, his smug confidence was shattered, and his reputation was in ruins. His entire circle was disgusted by his actions.
A man reading a legal notice | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, Mom tried to get in touch with me, but I didn’t reply to any of her calls or texts. If she couldn’t take a stand for me, why should I even bother talking to her? I was done.
Now, living with Henry, I feel a sense of peace that had been missing from my life for ages. I don’t remember the last time I had laughed this much in my own house. I can’t thank fate enough for blessing me with a man like Henry. I have no idea what I’d do without him.
A man sitting in his apartment | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Bobby discovered a hidden stash of expensive gifts in his teenage daughter’s closet, along with a photo of an unknown older man and a note about a café meeting. He discreetly followed her to the café, unaware he’d uncover a secret that would tear his family apart.
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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