Quando Patsy, de 68 anos, postou uma foto alegre de maiô de suas férias, ela não esperava que sua nora Janice zombasse de seu “corpo enrugado”. Desolada, Patsy decidiu que era hora de ensinar a Janice uma lição duradoura sobre respeito e autoestima que deixasse todo mundo falando.
Tudo bem, pessoal, me digam com sinceridade: existe um limite de idade para usar maiô? A maioria de vocês, meus queridos, provavelmente diria “De jeito nenhum, Patsy!”, Deus os abençoe. Bem, deixem-me dizer uma coisa: tem uma pessoa nesta família que parece pensar diferente — e essa crítica é minha nora!
Mulher madura na praia | Fonte: Midjourney
Agora, antes que você se irrite, deixe-me voltar um pouco no tempo. Há uma semana, meu marido Donald e eu, ambos com quase 70 anos, acabamos de voltar das nossas tão esperadas férias em Miami Beach.
Foi a nossa primeira viagem sozinhos, só nós dois, pombinhos, desde que aqueles netos travessos tomaram conta da nossa sala de estar. Posso te dizer que o sol da Flórida fez maravilhas pelo nosso romance reacendido!
Silhueta de um casal de idosos observando o pôr do sol | Fonte: Midjouney
Nós nos sentimos jovens novamente, pessoal.
Todas as manhãs, nos desafiávamos a acordar às 7h em vez das 5h habituais, nos presenteávamos com frutos do mar frescos o suficiente para fazer nossas artérias cantarem blues e fazíamos longas caminhadas ao longo daquela praia de areia branca perolada, de mãos dadas.
Um prato de frutos do mar com um lindo resort de praia como pano de fundo | Fonte: Midjourney
Certa tarde, eu estava usando um maiô preto lindo de duas peças, e o Donald me cobriu de elogios. Paramos para um beijo rápido — daqueles que fazem borboletas no estômago mesmo depois de todos esses anos.
Pois é, uma garotinha fofa pulou até nós, toda sorrisos e alegria. Antes que percebêssemos, ela já tinha pegado o celular e registrado aquele exato momento — Donald em seu sunga florido extravagante (abençoado seja seu coração aventureiro!), e eu em meu fiel biquíni preto de duas peças.
Mulher madura em maiô preto | Fonte: Midjourney
Olhando para essa foto, querida, uma lágrima brotou em meu olho.
Não éramos mais adolescentes, claro, mas o amor naquela foto? Puro, dourado e jovem de coração. Até criei coragem para pedir à querida que me enviasse — uma espécie de lembrança, entende?
De volta a casa, com o sol ainda a grudar na minha pele como uma lembrança feliz, não resisti a partilhar aquela foto no Facebook.
Mulher madura segurando um smartphone | Fonte: Midjourney
A seção de comentários começou a encher mais rápido do que uma forma de torta no Dia de Ação de Graças.
“Vocês dois estão adoráveis, Patsy!”, “Gols de casal!”, todas essas coisas emocionantes.
Então, bum! Como um balde de água gelada jogado bem na minha cara, vi o comentário da minha nora Janice:
“Como ela OUSA mostrar seu corpo ENRUGADO de maiô?!
Além disso, beijar o marido na idade dela é nojento. Como ela está FEIA, para ser sincera, rs!
”
Mulher extremamente assustada olhando para seu smartphone | Fonte: Midjourney
Meu queixo quase caiu no chão. “Enrugado”? “Nojento”? Reli a mensagem, cada palavra como um prego enferrujado sendo martelado no meu coração.
Lágrimas brotaram novamente, quentes e raivosas desta vez. Donald ficaria furioso, eu tinha certeza. Imediatamente tirei um print do comentário e, bum! Ele simplesmente desapareceu.
Foi aí que percebi que havia algo suspeito no comentário excluído. Janice devia ter pensado em enviá-lo em particular, o que piorou ainda mais a situação. Furtivo e ofensivo, era isso.
Mulher de coração partido olhando para baixo | Fonte: Midjourney
Bom, eu não sou de recuar numa briga, principalmente quando se trata da minha dignidade, com rugas e tudo. Não, senhor. Janice precisava de um alerta, um choque de realidade tão alto que faria suas unhas perfeitamente feitas tremerem. Mas como?
Foi então que um sorriso travesso se abriu no meu rosto. Eu tinha um plano tão bom que deixaria uma marca duradoura na minha nora, que a criticava.
“Donald”, gritei para o meu marido. “Precisamos conversar sobre aquele churrasco em família que está por vir.”
Mulher madura sorrindo gentilmente | Fonte: Midjouney
Donald entrou pesadamente na sala de estar, segurando um pacote de biscoitos de manteiga de amendoim pela metade. Respirei fundo, tentando conter a raiva latente no meu peito.
Hesitei, sem saber se deveria mostrar a ele a captura de tela que tirei do comentário maldoso. Ver as palavras cruéis de Janice em preto e branco poderia deixá-lo furioso. Não, essa revelação precisava de um público maior.
“Eu estava pensando”, virei-me para Donald, “e se convidássemos todos os nossos familiares e amigos para o churrasco, querido?”
Homem maduro sorrindo na sala de estar | Fonte: Midjourney
Ele ergueu uma sobrancelha. “Claro, querida, por que não?! Deixa eu mandar uma mensagem no nosso grupo de bate-papo familiar agora mesmo!”, ele disse animadamente e saiu, ainda sorrindo.
Um sorriso travesso se espalhou pelo meu rosto. “Hora da pequena vingança!”, sussurrei para mim mesmo. O churrasco em família que se aproximava parecia a oportunidade perfeita.
“Ah, Janice, querida”, sorri, com os olhos brilhando de diversão, “você vai ter uma surpresa!”
Mulher sorrindo com os braços cruzados | Fonte: Midjourney
Não se tratava mais apenas de vingança. Tratava-se de mostrar a Janice, e a todos os outros, que a idade não passa de um número, e que uma pequena ruga nunca fez mal a ninguém.
A missão de vingança começou, e minha nora estava prestes a provar do próprio veneno. Apertem os cintos, pessoal, porque essa história vai ficar interessante.
Mulher olhando para o lado e sorrindo | Fonte: Midjourney
O sol do fim de semana batia forte no nosso quintal, impregnando o ar com o aroma de hambúrgueres crocantes e da famosa salada de batata do Donald. Risadas e conversas enchiam o ar enquanto os adolescentes corriam atrás uns dos outros em volta do irrigador, e os netos gritavam de alegria.
Era o cenário perfeito para o nosso churrasco em família, e todos, desde minha querida sobrinha Brenda até o amigo de faculdade brincalhão do meu filho Shawn, Mark, estavam lá.
Exceto Janice, é claro. Ela estava elegantemente atrasada, o que não era incomum para ela.
Festa de churrasco em uma noite quente | Fonte: Midjourney
Com o canto do olho, vi Janice finalmente entrar, com uma bolsa de grife pendurada no braço. Ela examinou a sala, com um sorriso ensaiado estampado no rosto. Timing perfeito.
Pigarreei, e o tilintar dos talheres silenciou momentaneamente. Todos os olhares se voltaram para mim, uma curiosa mistura de rostos manchados de ketchup e sorrisos expectantes.
Jovem mulher sorrindo em um churrasco em família | Fonte: Midjouney
“Tudo bem, acalmem-se um minuto”, declarei, com um brilho travesso nos olhos, no momento em que Janice entrou e afundou em uma cadeira. “Quero compartilhar um momento especial da minha viagem a Miami com o Donald.”
Passei as fotos no meu celular até encontrar a que eu queria, aquela que capturava aquele beijo roubado na praia.
Um “aww” coletivo percorreu a multidão enquanto admiravam a foto. Donald, Deus o abençoe, até estufou um pouco o peito, com um sorriso brincalhão nos lábios.
Mulher madura sorridente segurando seu smartphone em uma festa de churrasco | Fonte: Midjouney
“Esta foto representa o amor e o companheirismo que perduram ao longo dos anos”, continuei, segurando a foto para que todos vissem. “É um lembrete de que o amor não desaparece com a idade; ele se fortalece.”
“Ah, Patsy, que lindo!”, exclamou Janice, com a voz carregada de entusiasmo forçado. “Você está tão… esportiva nesse maiô!”
Não pude deixar de lhe dar um sorriso irônico. “Obrigada, querida”, falei lentamente, pausando para um efeito dramático. “Mas nem todo mundo entende isso, entende?”
Jovem mulher sorrindo | Fonte: Midjourney
Um silêncio tomou conta da multidão. Então, mostrei a captura de tela do comentário cruel de Janice, brilhando intensamente na tela do meu celular, onde sua foto de perfil e nome estavam claramente visíveis.
“Infelizmente”, declarei, “alguém nesta mesma sala achou que seria apropriado envergonhar a mim e ao meu amor pelo meu marido devido à minha idade.”
A sala ficou em silêncio. Era possível ouvir um alfinete cair. Então, o olhar de todos pousou em Janice. Seu rosto perdeu a cor, o sorriso evaporando mais rápido que uma bola de neve em uma tarde de julho. Seus olhos percorreram a sala, desesperados por encontrar uma rota de fuga.
Jovem assustada em uma festa de churrasco | Fonte: Midjourney
“Quero deixar uma coisa bem clara”, continuei, meu olhar fixo no de Janice.
“Sabe, comentários assim podem doer muito. Todos nós envelhecemos, e um dia você também terá rugas. Quando chegar a hora, espero que ninguém te faça sentir vergonha do seu corpo ou do seu amor. E se tiver sorte, sempre terá alguém que te ame da mesma forma. Porque, na verdade, amor e felicidade são as coisas mais bonitas que podemos carregar conosco pela vida, não uma pele impecável.”
Mulher madura e furiosa lançando olhares furiosos | Fonte: Midjourney
Os ombros de Janice caíram, sua bolsa de grife caindo ruidosamente no chão com um baque surdo. A vergonha lhe ruborizou as bochechas, lavando a maquiagem meticulosamente feita. Eu podia ver a compreensão se manifestando em seu rosto, lenta e dolorosamente.
“Compartilhei isso não para constranger ninguém”, esclareci, com a voz um pouco mais suave, “mas para nos lembrar da importância do respeito e da gentileza. Nunca julgue alguém pela aparência, porque hoje sou eu com as rugas. Um dia, será você!”
Mulher madura conversando em um churrasco | Fonte: Midjourney
Observei os rostos ao meu redor. A maioria demonstrava compreensão, alguns até acenavam com a cabeça, demonstrando simpatia.
Shawn, meu filho sempre me apoiando, apertou minha mão para me tranquilizar. Donald, ao meu lado, estufou o peito novamente, uma silenciosa demonstração de solidariedade.
“Devemos valorizar um ao outro e o amor que compartilhamos, independentemente da idade”, concluí, sentindo uma onda de orgulho. “Agora, quem quer mais salada de batata?”
Mulher madura olhando para alguém | Fonte: Midjourney
O silêncio finalmente se rompeu, substituído por uma série de risadas nervosas e o tilintar de talheres. O churrasco recomeçou, ainda que com um ar um pouco mais contido. Mas tudo bem. Meu ponto havia sido deixado claro, alto e claro.
Os últimos convidados foram embora aos poucos, deixando para trás um mar de copos plásticos vermelhos e o cheiro de churrasco que se esvaía. Eu estava limpando a mesa, com uma dor satisfeita se instalando em meus músculos, quando Janice se aproximou de mim. Seus olhos estavam vermelhos e apologéticos.
“Patsy”, ela começou.
Jovem mulher falando | Fonte: Midjourney
Parei de limpar o balcão e me virei para encará-la de frente. “Sim, Janice?”
Ela respirou fundo, trêmula. “Eu… eu sinto muito. Eu estava errada. Meu comentário foi cruel e insensível. Isso não vai acontecer de novo, Patsy. Eu prometo.”
Uma onda de alívio e aconchego me invadiu. Ao ouvir seu pedido de desculpas, soube que a mensagem havia sido entendida.
“É preciso coragem para admitir um erro, Janice”, respondi gentilmente. “Agradeço seu pedido de desculpas.”
Ficamos ali por um momento, com um novo entendimento fervendo entre nós.
Uma jovem culpada | Fonte: Midjourney
Lidar com a vergonha da idade, especialmente da família, pode ser doloroso. Mas aqui está a questão: rugas e cabelos grisalhos são emblemas de honra, prova de uma vida bem vivida. Aqueles que se esquecem disso esquecem que o tempo é um relógio teimoso — ele continua correndo, e um dia, seus rostos contarão a mesma história.
E aí, o que vocês acham? Será que fui longe demais? Alguém já passou por situações parecidas? Comentem! Compartilhem suas próprias histórias de age-shaming e vamos lembrar a todos que idade é só um número!
Mulher madura feliz e orgulhosa sorrindo | Fonte: Midjouney
Quando um vizinho arrogante jogou cascalho no gramado adorado de Wendy e se recusou a consertar o dano, ela orquestrou um plano de vingança épico que se tornou o assunto do bairro.
Esta obra é inspirada em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizada para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e enriquecer a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não é intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não se responsabilizam pela precisão dos eventos ou pela representação dos personagens e não se responsabilizam por qualquer interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está” e quaisquer opiniões expressas são dos personagens e não refletem a visão do autor ou da editora.
Evil Stepmothers Who Met Their Match: Stories of Karma Catching Up in the Most Unexpected Ways
Five gripping tales reveal what happens when karma takes center stage. From a sabotaged prom to a wedding day showdown, stolen dreams, and shocking secrets, these stepmothers’ schemes backfire in ways no one saw coming. Justice has never been so unexpected — or so satisfying.
Stepmothers who have long reveled in their schemes and manipulations finally meet their match in this compilation! With a mix of drama, humor, and poetic irony, these stories deliver a satisfying dose of comeuppance, proving no one is immune to the clever hand of karma.
A confident teen girl | Source: Midjourney
My Stepmom Secretly Canceled My Prom Hair Appointment to Ruin My Day – But Her Jaw Dropped When a Limousine Showed Up for Me
Seven years ago, my mom passed away from pneumonia. Before I knew it, my dad was seeing Carla, and a year later, he married her.
“Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he?” my aunt sniffed on their wedding day.
A little girl and her aunt | Source: Midjourney
Living with my new step-brother, Mason, and Carla was fine at first, but Carla’s passive-aggressive jabs soon started piling up. I remember once I caught her staring at me.
“You look too much like your mother, Emily,” she said. “No wonder your father gives Mason more attention.”
I sighed and ignored her, trying not to let her words get to me.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
My dad, of course, didn’t notice a thing. And she loved being able to taunt me without any repercussions.
Fast forward to prom season. I’d saved my babysitting money for months to buy a gorgeous violet dress. It reminded me of Mom because violet was her favorite color.
Prom was going to be my night. I just knew it. I’d even booked a hair appointment at a fancy salon. Everything was set. But then the big day came, and Carla ruined it.
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
When I got to the salon, the receptionist told me my appointment was canceled.
“I didn’t cancel!” I exclaimed. “Why would I? Prom is this evening!”
“Calm down, honey,” the receptionist said. She went to get the hairdresser, who looked very uncomfortable when they returned.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“I got a call earlier today to cancel your appointment, Emily,” she told me. “I assumed it was your Mom?”
My heart dropped. I was still processing everything when I looked over and saw her.
Carla! Sitting there, getting her hair done. Of course. Carla had canceled my appointment.
A woman getting her hair done | Source: Midjourney
I ran out of the salon, my head spinning. My perfect prom was falling apart around me.
When I got home, I locked myself in my room. Tears poured down my face as I tried to style my hair, but nothing looked good.
I stared at my dress, feeling like an idiot for telling Carla my plans in passing.
A prom dress hanging in a closet | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go to prom anymore. What was the point? I was already upset and didn’t feel like anything good could come from this.
Suddenly, I heard honking outside. I dragged myself to the window, expecting to see a commotion on the road. But when I looked out, my jaw dropped.
A glossy black limousine was parked in front of our house.
A sleek black limousine parked outside | Source: Midjourney
There was no way that the car was for me. My friends’ parents had said no when we first discussed hiring a limo. Nevertheless, I ran downstairs.
When I reached the doorway, the driver stepped out and approached our front door. My dad, who had been as clueless as ever during all this, stood on our porch looking confused.
“I’m here for Miss Emily, sir,” the driver said, holding out a small card.
A chauffer holding a note | Source: Midjourney
Miss Emily? Me? I hesitantly took the card and opened it. Inside, written in neat handwriting, were the words:
To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money.
Have a magical night, sis.
Love, Mason.
A teenage girl reading a note | Source: Midjourney
Mason? My 11-year-old stepbrother did this?
I burst into tears again, but this time from pure shock and gratitude. I ran upstairs to find Mason in his room, grinning like he’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.
“I heard Mom on the phone this morning,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t a big deal. “Canceling your appointment wasn’t fair at all.”
A smiling boy in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
“But did you really use your money?” I asked him, feeling horrible.
“Not really,” he grinned. “See, Mom has been saving to buy some fancy necklace. After she left this morning, I took some money from her stash and went to Mr. Johnson next door. He owns the limo company, remember?”
But Mason didn’t stop there.
A smiling girl | Source: Midjourney
“There’s more, Em,” he said. “Mrs. Evans, from across the road? Her daughter is a stylist at the mall. She’s coming here to do your hair and makeup soon.”
Just as the words left his mouth, the doorbell rang.
“That should be her!” Mason said. “Go wash your face. I’ll send her up.”
A stylist holding her make up bag | Source: Midjourney
Twenty minutes later, I looked like a princess. I just wished my mom was around to fuss over me. I wanted a hug from her more than anything.
When Carla drove into our driveway, I was already outside, stepping into the limo like a movie star.
Her jaw dropped.
A smiling teenage girl dressed for prom | Source: Midjourney
“Richard? Did you do this?” I heard her shriek to my father before the driver closed the door.
Prom was everything I had hoped for. When I arrived at the hall in the limo, heads turned. I was glowing, and I knew it. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my mom was right there with me.
The whole night was pure magic.
Teenage girls at prom | Source: Midjourney
As for Carla, I hope she learned a lesson. You can’t mess with someone’s joy and get away with it… especially if your son is going to save the day!
My Stepmom Stole $5,000 from My College Fund to Get Veneers for Herself — Karma Hit Her Hard
I’m Kristen, your average 17-year-old. My mom passed away when I was young, but she left behind a college fund. It wasn’t huge, but it was a start to secure my future.
A distressed teenage girl lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
My dad, Bob, and I had been adding to it, mostly from my part-time gigs tutoring kids and babysitting.
Everything was on track until my stepmother Tracy stole $5000 from me.
If vanity were an Olympic sport, Tracy would make Narcissus look like an amateur. She spends hours in front of the mirror but never has time for anything that really matters, like, oh I don’t know, being a decent human.
A senior woman applying lipstick | Source: Pexels
One day, I came home to find Tracy grinning like a Cheshire cat, except her teeth looked more like construction cones dipped in mustard.
“Kristen, darling!” she chirped. “Guess what? I’m getting veneers! I borrowed a little from your college fund to make it happen. Just $5,000!”
I felt like I’d just been sucker-punched. “You did WHAT? You STOLE my college fund?”
Tracy rolled her eyes dramatically. “Stole? I’m family. It’s not a big deal, honey!”
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“You had NO RIGHT! That money’s for my future. My mom set it up for me.”
“Oh, save the theatrics! It’s just money. And your father agreed to it,” Tracy winked.
Now, that was a lie. Dad wouldn’t agree to this in a million years. I stormed out and immediately called Dad, who was just as shocked as I was.
A furious young girl frowning | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll talk to her,” he promised. In Dad’s terms, that meant “I’ll mention it once and hope it magically resolves itself.”
A few weeks later, Tracy got her veneers. She strutted around the house, flashing her new teeth at every opportunity. It was like living with a deranged lighthouse.
But the best was yet to come.
A young lady talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
A month after her “transformation,” Tracy threw a BBQ to show off her new chompers to the entire neighborhood.
“Ladies, gather ’round!” Tracy announced, clinking her wine glass with a spoon. “I simply must tell you about my transformation! It’s all thanks to the marvelous Dr. Kapoor,” Tracy gushed. “He’s not just a dentist, he’s an artist!”
I rolled my eyes so hard I could practically see my brain.
A smiling senior woman holding a wine glass and bottle | Source: Pexels
Just then, Tracy set her wine glass down and reached for a piece of corn on the cob. “You know, ladies, life is all about taking chances and—”
C-R-A-C-K! The sound echoed across the backyard like a gunshot. Tracy’s eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth.
There, nestled in the butter of her corn on the cob, was one of her precious veneers. The gap in her smile was so big, it could swallow a whole lollipop!
Close-up of a shocked woman with a missing tooth | Source: Midjourney
“I… I…” Tracy stammered, suddenly sounding like she was auditioning for the role of Sylvester the Cat. “Ekthcuthe me!”
She bolted into the house, leaving behind a yard full of bewildered guests and one very satisfied stepdaughter trying desperately not to burst into maniacal laughter.
When she called Dr. Kapoor a few days later, I overheard a conversation that was music to my ears.
A young lady laughing | Source: Midjourney
Turns out, Tracy had opted for the bargain basement veneers and would have to pay a hefty chunk to redo the whole veneer! Karma had just given Tracy a spanking.
Dad, finally growing a backbone, confronted Tracy that evening.
“We need to talk about Kristen’s college fund,” he said, his voice firm (for the first time in a very looooong time! Way to go, Daddy!)
A senior man frowning | Source: Midjourney
“You’re going to pay back every cent you took from Kristen’s fund,” he said. “And if you can’t… well, I think we need to reevaluate this situation.”
In the following weeks, the neighborhood buzzed with gossip about Tracy’s “dental disaster.” She couldn’t show her face without someone asking about her “million-dollar thmile.”
As for me? Dad made good on his promise. He ensured Tracy repaid every cent, and he’s been working overtime to add extra cash to my college fund.
Close-up of a man holding money | Source: Pexels
My Stepmom Came to My Wedding in a White Dress, Saying She ‘Deserves Attention Too’ – So My Husband Taught Her a Real Lesson
Linda, my stepmother, came into my life after Mom passed away when I was ten. She loved being the center of attention.
With my wedding day approaching, I knew Linda would find a way to make the day about her. She always did.
I was trying hard not to worry about it the day I met up with Sarah, my best friend and maid of honor, at the wedding planner’s office.
Two female friends sharing a hug | Source: Pexels
We entered the wedding planner, Grace’s office, and she immediately dropped a bombshell.
“Your stepmother requested to be seated in the front row and insisted on giving a speech during the reception, Alexandra,” she said, glancing up from her notes.
I was stunned. I’d chosen to honor my late mother by reserving a seat for her in the front row. Linda knew this. How could she?
A worried woman | Source: Pexels
I sighed, feeling the familiar frustration rise. “She always has to make everything about herself. I bet she’s got some grand performance in mind!”
Sarah leaned in closer. “We need to be prepared for whatever she’s planning.”
Grace looked at me with a concerned expression. “How would you like to handle this, Alexandra?”
A wedding planner | Source: Midjourney
At my request, Grace agreed to explain to Linda once more that I’d reserved the front-row seat to honor my late mom. She would also dissuade Linda from giving a speech.
As we left Grace’s office, Sarah squeezed my arm.
“Don’t worry, Alex. We’ve got this. Linda won’t ruin your day.”
A woman getting consoled by a friend | Source: Pexels
Once I got home, I shared my concerns with Tom.
“Linda turns everything into a spectacle,” I moaned. “I’m afraid Linda will make our wedding about her.”
Tom smiled reassuringly. “I’ve got a plan. Let her have her moment. It’ll all work out.”
“What kind of plan?” I asked, curious.
A woman sitting on a chair and posing | Source: Pexels
He kissed my forehead. “Just trust me. It’s a surprise. But I promise, it’ll keep the focus where it should be — on us and your mom’s memory.”
I sighed, feeling a bit better. “I hope so. I just want everything to go smoothly. Linda can be so unpredictable.”
Tom squeezed my hand. “I know. But we’ve got this.”
A woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Pexels
Soon, the wedding day arrived.
While I was still in my bathrobe getting ready, Sarah burst into the room, her face pale.
“You won’t believe this,” she said, pulling me to the window.
I looked out and saw Linda emerging in a full-length white wedding dress.
An elderly woman posing in her wedding gown | Source: Midjourney
“What the…” Okay, this was something I didn’t see coming.
“Linda, what are you doing? You can’t wear white to my wedding!” I stormed over to her, unable to hide my fury.
She smirked, not showing even one ounce of regret. “You’re young, Alexandra. You have your whole life ahead of you. This might be my last chance to feel like a bride again. I deserve this attention.”
A smiling elderly woman in a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney
I felt my anger rising, but Tom pulled me aside.
“Trust me, we’ll sort this out later,” he whispered with a mischievous smile.
“But Tom, how could she?”
“Trust me, okay?” he said, and I relented.
A newly wed couple | Source: Pexels
The ceremony proceeded, with Linda sitting in the front row, basking in her stolen spotlight. She’d clearly railroaded Grace to get what she wanted.
When it was time for the speeches, Linda stood up. But before she could speak, Tom took the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to share a special video tribute to Alexandra’s late mother.”
The lights dimmed, and a beautiful montage of my mom played on the screen.
A bride looking at a screen | Source: Midjourney
As the tribute ended, Tom looked at me with a knowing smile. “This day is about honoring your mother and our love, Alex. No one can take that away.”
Then he looked at Linda. “Linda, could you join us up here?” he asked.
As she made her way to the stage, Tom continued, “Linda has always been a star in her own right, so we’ve decided to let her shine even more.”
A groom talking on the mic | Source: Midjourney
Another slideshow began to play. The first few pictures showed Linda in her white dress from various angles at the wedding. But then, Tom’s twist came.
The next photo showed Linda sneaking into my bridal suite earlier that morning. She was caught on camera trying on my wedding veil and twirling around with a bouquet she’d taken from the floral arrangements.
The room gasped, and Linda’s face turned red.
A gray-haired woman wearing a veil | Source: Pexels
“Wait, Linda, we’re not finished,” Tom said, motioning to the DJ.
Suddenly, the speakers played a recording of Linda on the phone with her friend, boasting about her plan to outshine me.
“This little princess needs to learn her place. I’ve waited long enough to have my moment,” her voice echoed through the hall.
An angry elderly bride | Source: Midjourney
The crowd was stunned, and a few people even booed. Tom wrapped his arms around me and whispered, “I told you I had it covered.”
Linda, red-faced and cornered, slipped out of the hall as quietly as she could. Tom and I shared a smile, knowing we taught her a lesson.
She was in the spotlight as she was wanted, but for all the wrong reasons.
A crying elderly woman | Source: Midjourney
I Found a Lace Robe Hidden in My Husband’s Closet – Then I Saw My Stepmother Wearing It
When my dad passed away last year, my husband, Jason, our six-year-old daughter, Emma, and I moved in to help my stepmother, Lorraine.
Living with her was like walking on a tightrope. Everything about Lorraine was sharp — her stilettos, her words, even the way she eyed Jason when she thought I wasn’t looking.
An older woman in a black dress | Source: Midjourney
But family is family, and I tried to make it work.
Until I found the robe.
I was folding Jason’s laundry. As I opened his closet to hang up a shirt, I noticed a small glossy gift bag shoved into the corner, partly hidden beneath his jackets.
A glossy gift bag | Source: Midjourney
I pulled it out, my pulse quickening when I saw what was inside: a lace robe, sheer and intimate.
My first thought was that Jason had bought it for me. If only that had been the truth.
A few days later, Lorraine called me into her room.
“Oh, Calla, sweetheart,” she cooed. “You won’t believe what my new boyfriend got me!”
A maroon bedroom | Source: Midjourney
New boyfriend? Lorraine hadn’t mentioned anyone else before.
When I walked in, my stomach dropped.
There she was, draped in the robe I’d found in Jason’s closet. She twirled, the lace floating around her like some cruel joke.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
Was Jason…? No. He wouldn’t. Lorraine?
My knees felt weak. I stumbled out of her room, her laughter echoing behind me.
That night, I cornered Jason after I finished reading with Emma.
A mom and daughter reading a book | Source: Midjourney
“Did you give Lorraine a robe? The lace one I found in your closet?”
Jason’s face twisted in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“She showed me a robe earlier,” I said tearfully. “The same one I found in your closet.”
Jason’s jaw dropped. “You think I’d buy her something like that? Are you serious right now? I don’t know where she got this robe, but it wasn’t from me.”
A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few days, I couldn’t shake the unease. Lorraine’s smug looks and Jason’s denial all felt like pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t solve.
Then, one afternoon, I heard Lorraine on the phone.
“Yes, Kerry, of course, I planted it,” she whispered. “That idiot husband of hers didn’t even notice. It’s only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats. Once they leave, this house will finally be mine.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
That night, I told Jason everything I’d overheard.
“She’s trying to ruin our marriage,” he said, his voice tight. “And to think that we uprooted Emma for this? This ends now.”
Over breakfast the next morning, I casually mentioned to Lorraine that Jason and I were considering moving out. And that evening, Jason and I invited a lawyer friend over for dinner, someone Lorraine didn’t recognize.
Bagels on a counter | Source: Midjourney
We told her he was a “realtor” helping us look for new homes, but honestly, we just wanted to figure out where we stood. I wasn’t sure that I wanted the house, but Jason had persuaded me to fight.
“Come on, honey,” he said. “Your dad built this with his hands. This home has been around since you were a child. You want Lorraine to have it, really?”
A week later, we called a “family meeting” in the living room. Lorraine sauntered in, confident and smug as if she’d already won. Jason handed her a stack of papers.
A pile of paper on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s the house deed,” Jason said calmly. “It turns out that Calla and I are the primary beneficiaries. You don’t own this house, Lorraine. We do.”
“That’s not possible. Your father would never leave me with nothing…”
“He left you with a lot of money. But this is my childhood home. Of course, he’d want me to have it.”
A shocked older woman | Source: Midjourney
Within a week, Lorraine was gone.
And that robe?
Lorraine had conveniently left it behind. I donated it to charity with the rest of the things she’d abandoned. Let someone else enjoy it because I sure as hell wasn’t keeping it.
A cozy reading room | Source: Midjourney
I Overslept on the Morning of My Crucial College Entrance Exams Because Someone Turned off My Alarm
Ever since I was little, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. When my mom died of cancer, that dream only grew stronger. I worked toward my dream for years. Today was finally the day of my medical entrance exam.
A dreaming woman | Source: Pexels
Last night, I did everything to make sure I wouldn’t oversleep. I set three alarms on my phone. But when I woke up and reached for my phone, my heart stopped.
It was 9:55 a.m. My exam was starting at 10:00.
“No, no, no! This can’t be happening!” I threw my blankets off and grabbed my phone. All three alarms were turned off.
A shocked woman in her bed | Source: Pexels
I bolted down the stairs, half-dressed.
“Linda!” I called out, desperately looking for my stepmom. “Linda, please! I need a ride! My exam is in five minutes!”
She was in the kitchen, sipping her coffee calmly. “You’re late already. You should’ve set an alarm.”
“I did!” I shouted, feeling the sting of frustration and panic in my voice. “Three of them! But somehow, they got turned off.”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
She shrugged, a slight smirk on her lips. “Maybe this is a sign that you’re not cut out for med school, hmm?”
I stood there, feeling my face grow hot, my mind swirling with disbelief and desperation. I headed for the door, knowing I’d never make it on foot, but desperate enough to try.
“I know who did it,” my little brother Jason said then.
A young boy | Source: Pexels
He looked at Linda cautiously. “I saw her. Last night. She turned off your alarms, Emily.”
Linda shot him a sharp look. “Jason, stop making up stories,” she hissed.
Jason gulped but didn’t back down. “I’m not lying! I saw you go into her room, and turn off the alarms. You said she didn’t need to be at that stupid exam, anyway.”
A serious boy | Source: Pexels
“Fine. Yes, I did it,” Linda sighed. “You’re not fit to be a doctor. It’s a waste of time, energy, and, frankly, a lot of money that your dad could spend on something worthwhile.”
Just as I was about to push past her and leave, I heard sirens in the distance, heading toward our house.
Jason gave me a small, hopeful smile. “Don’t worry, Em. I called for help.”
The police sirens | Source: Pexels
“You are the bad guy, Linda,” he said, his eyes fierce despite his small frame. “Emily is going to be a doctor one day. Mom would be proud of her.”
Linda’s face twisted, and before she could say anything, the front door opened, and two police officers stepped inside.
Jason didn’t miss a beat. “I called you,” he said. “My sister needs to get to her entrance exam. Linda turned off her alarms so she’d miss it.”
A policeman on duty | Source: Pexels
The officers exchanged a glance, then turned to me. “Is that true?” the male officer asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I have to get to the school right now, or I’ll lose my chance to take the exam.”
“Alright, young lady,” the female officer said. “We’ll get you there.”
Linda’s face contorted with disbelief. “Wait, you’re actually going to escort her?”
“It’s our job to help people,” the officer replied.
A serious policeman | Source: Pexels
The officers helped me into their squad car, and we sped down the road with the sirens blaring. We pulled up at the exam center after the doors had been closed.
One of the proctors noticed us and approached, looking confused. “Ma’am, the exam has begun,” he said, glancing at the officers.
The policewoman explained quickly. “This young lady had her alarms sabotaged at home, but she’s here now. If there’s any way she can sit for the exam…”
A policewoman talking | Source: Pexels
The proctor’s stern face softened as he listened. He looked me in the eyes, then gave a brief nod. “Alright. Go on in.”
“Thank you,” I managed, barely believing I’d made it.
I found my seat, still rattled but refusing to let the morning’s events get the better of me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a second, and thought of my mom. This was my moment, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take it from me. I picked up my pencil and began the test.
A young woman writing an exam | Source: Pexels
Hours later, I exited the exam room, exhausted but relieved. I headed home, where my dad was waiting. Jason and I told him everything.
“Is this true?” he demanded, glaring at Linda.
Linda’s eyes darted between us. “I… I was just trying to keep her from making a mistake.”
“You sabotaged her dreams because of your selfishness,” my dad said coldly. “You’re not staying here another night.”
An angry man | Source: Pexels
Linda’s face turned pale as she realized he was serious. She tried to protest, but he shook his head firmly.
“Pack your things, Linda. This family deserves better than this.”
Jason and I stood by the door, watching as she finally left. There was no satisfaction in it, just a sense of justice and relief.
A woman looking through a gate | Source: Pexels
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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