My ex-husband once told me, ‘It’s just harmless fun.’ That’s what he called his infidelity. But when he ripped the wallpaper off my walls after our divorce, karma decided it was her turn to have fun – with him.
Do you believe in karma? Honestly, I used to think it was just something people said to make themselves feel better after someone hurt them. They would say things like: ‘Don’t worry, karma will catch up with them.’
Yeah, right. But let me tell you, karma is real. And in my case? She had a terrible sense of humour.
Let me give you the situation. My ex-husband, Dan, and I were married for eight years. Eight long years during which I thought we had something solid – a house we worked on together, two beautiful children, and a life that, while not perfect, felt like ours.
But as it turned out, I was the only one in this marriage who believed in ‘ours.’ And I should have noticed the warning signs.
Because the night I found out about Dan’s infidelity is seared into my memory.
Our daughter Emma was sick with a high fever, and I rummaged through Dan’s drawer looking for the baby medicine he always kept there. Instead, I found his phone.
I wasn’t trying to peek, but my attention was caught by a notification that flashed on the screen: a heart-shaped emoji and the words ‘I love you!’.
I couldn’t resist opening it, and my heart burst when I discovered dozens of intimate messages between my husband and a woman named ‘Jessica.’
‘How could you?’ I whispered that night, my hands shaking as I faced him. ‘Eight years, Dan. Eight years! How could you cheat on me?’
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. ‘It just happened,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders as if we were discussing the weather. These things happen in marriage.’ It was just harmless fun with my secretary Jessica. It won’t happen again, darling. Never! I’m so sorry. Believe me.’
‘Do these things happen? No, Dan. They don’t just happen. You made a choice. Every time.’
The first time, I did what so many of us do – convinced myself it was a mistake and an error in judgement. I thought we could make it right. I told myself that forgiveness was a powerful thing to do. But the second time? Oh, the second time shattered all my illusions.
‘I thought we could work through this,’ I said, holding out to him the proof of his second betrayal – a red lipstick stain on his collar. The irony of fate? I hated red lipstick and never wore it.
‘I thought you meant it when you said ‘never’ again.’
‘What do you want me to say?’ – he asked, his tone almost bored. ‘That I’m sorry? Does that make you feel better?’
At that moment, something inside me shivered. ‘No! I want you to pack your things.’
I didn’t waste a second. I filed for divorce before Dan could utter another pathetic excuse.
The divorce itself was as brutal as you can imagine.
But here’s the thing: the house wasn’t for sale. It was mine, inherited from my grandmother long before Dan came along.
‘This is ridiculous!’ yelled Dan during one of our mediation sessions. ‘I’ve lived in this house for eight years. I invested in it!’
‘And it’s still my grandmother’s house,’ I replied calmly, watching his outrage. ‘The deed is in my name, Dan. It always has been.’
There was no arguing from a legal standpoint. Dan, on the other hand, insisted that everything else be split fifty-fifty, as it always had been in our marriage. Groceries, holidays, furniture – whatever you want to call it, he demanded fairness to the penny.
And then came the moment that broke my heart more than all his cheating. We were discussing child custody arrangements when Dan looked at our lawyer and without the slightest hint of emotion said: ‘She can have full custody. I don’t want the responsibility of parenting.’
Our children, Emma and Jack, were in the next room. My precious little ones who deserved so much better than a father who saw them as a burden.
‘They’re your children,’ I hissed across the table. ‘How can you just-’
‘They’re better off with you anyway,’ he cut me short. ‘You always knew how to take care of them.’
After the papers were signed, Dan asked for a week to pack up and leave. He stated that he needed time to ‘work things out.’ To give him his freedom and spare the kids any awkward encounters, I took them to my mum’s house for a week.
On the eve of our departure, Emma snuggled up to her favourite stuffed bunny and asked: ‘Mummy, why can’t Daddy come with us to Grandma’s?’
I cradled her to me, fighting back tears. How do you explain to a six-year-old what divorce means or why her family is falling apart?
‘Sometimes, honey, adults need time apart to sort things out,’ I said.
‘But will he miss us?’ asked Jack, my eight-year-old, from the doorway.
‘Of course he will,’ I lied, my heart breaking apart all over again. ‘Of course he will.’
I decided it was the least I could do.
When the week was over, I came home with the kids, ready to start our new chapter. But what I walked into was nothing short of a nightmare.
The wallpaper – gorgeous floral wallpaper – was gone.
The living room walls, once covered in the beautiful floral paper we’d picked out together, were peeled back. Torn pieces of drywall peeked through, as if the house had been skinned alive. My stomach churned as I followed the trail of destruction into the kitchen.
And there he was – Dan – tearing down another strip of wallpaper like a man possessed.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I shouted.
He turned around, completely unfazed. ‘I bought that wallpaper. They’re mine.’
‘Dan,’ I finally managed. ‘You’re destroying the house your children live in.’
‘Mum?’ Jack’s voice shook. ‘Why is Dad doing this to our walls?’
He burst into tears. ‘I loved the flowers! They were beautiful! Why are you tearing up the wallpaper, Daddy?’
I knelt down on my knees, trying to shield them from the sight of my father methodically destroying our house. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay. We can pick out new wallpaper together. Something even prettier. Would you like that?’
‘But why is he taking them away?’ Emma hiccupped between sobs.
I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t hurt them more. I threw Dan a glare, sharp enough to melt him.
He just shrugged and said: ‘I paid for it. And I have every right to destroy it!’
As Dan continued to tear up the wallpaper, I noticed children peering out from around the corner, their little faces bewildered and frightened. My heart burst with pity for them. I didn’t want this to be a memory for them of their father in this house.
So I took a deep breath and said: ‘Okay. Do whatever you want.’ Then I took the kids to the car and drove away.
When I got back that evening, things were even worse than I expected.
Dan had become completely petty. There were no dishes in the kitchen, no toaster, not even a coffee maker. He even took all the toilet paper out of the bathroom…and pretty much everything he bought with his own money.
‘You’re just INCREDIBLE!’ muttered I.
This was crazy. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had hit a nerve with me.
A month later, I joined a book club. At first it was just a way to get out of the house and feel like myself again. But the women there quickly became my support system.
One evening, after a couple of glasses of wine, I told the story of the wallpaper. I described every absurd detail, from the peeling walls to the missing toilet paper.
‘Wait, he took the toilet paper too?’ Cassie, one of the women, gasped with laughter.
‘Yes!’ I said, laughing in spite of myself. ‘I can’t believe I married a man so ridiculous I don’t even want to say his name.’
‘Girl,’ Cassie said, wiping tears from her eyes, ’you dodged a bullet. Who does that? A grown man ripping wallpaper off the walls? He looks like an overgrown toddler. God, please don’t reveal his name or we’ll start despising every man with that name!’
The entire table erupted into laughter. It was cathartic. It was the first time I had ever truly laughed at the whole mess.
‘You know what was the worst part?’ I admitted to the group, my wine glass nearly empty. ‘Trying to explain it to the kids. How do you tell kids that their father cares more about the wallpaper than their happiness?’
Betty, another book club member, reached out and squeezed my palm. ‘Children are resilient. They’ll remember who stayed and who put them first. That’s what matters.’
‘I hope so,’ I whispered, thinking of Emma’s tears and Jack’s confusion. ‘God, I hope so.’
I didn’t know karma was just beginning.
Six months had passed. Life had taken a new direction. The kids were thriving and I had put the chaos of divorce behind me. Dan barely crossed my mind – until the day he called me out of nowhere.
‘Hi,’ he said in a smug tone. ‘I thought you should know – I’m getting married next month. Some women really want to be with me. And I’ve found a gorgeous hottie!’
‘Congratulations,’ I said, keeping my voice even. Then I hung up the phone.
I thought that would be the end of it. But a few weeks later, I was strolling through the city centre, enjoying a rare solitary stroll, when I spotted Dan across the street. He was holding hands with a woman.
At first, I didn’t pay much attention. I assumed it was his fiancée and kept walking. But then they crossed the street and walked straight towards me.
As they got closer, my stomach cramped. It was Cassie-my friend from book club.
Her face lit up when she saw me. ‘Oh my god, hi!’ – She said, nudging Dan towards me. ‘It’s such a small world! I have so much to tell you! I’m engaged, this is my fiancé, his name is…’
I smiled strainedly. ‘Yes, Dan! I know.’
Cassie blinked, her smile fading. ‘Wait…you two know each other?’
Dan looked like he wanted to disappear. He gripped her hand tighter and clenched his jaw.
‘Oh, we go way back,’ I said nonchalantly.
Cassie’s gaze darted between us, confusion turning to suspicion. ‘What do you mean, ‘long time acquaintances’? How do you know each other? Dan, do you…know her?’
Dan laughed nervously. ‘Cassie, it doesn’t matter…’
‘Oh yeah, it doesn’t matter that much. He’s just my ex-husband,’ I said sharply, interrupting him.
Cassie’s face froze, and then it hit her. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said slowly. ‘That story you told at book club…the one about the wallpaper? About that bloody bloke? Is that…him?’
Her words hung in the air. And the panicked look on Dan’s face spoke for itself.
Cassie turned to him, her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh my God… was that YOU?’
‘Cassie, it’s not what you think…’ Dan pleaded.
‘It’s exactly what I think,’ she snapped back. ‘You peeled the wallpaper off the walls of your kids’ house because you bought it? Who does that?’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Dan stammered. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘No big deal?’ hissed Cassie, jerking her hand away. ‘What about the lies? About the evil ex-wife who took your kids to another country? That she cheated on you? You’re unbelievable, Dan. You’re a liar!’
She turned to me, her expression softening. ‘I’m so sorry, Nora. I had no idea.’
Before I could respond, Cassie turned to Dan again. ‘You’re a walking red flag. I can’t believe I almost married you.’
And just like that, she was gone, leaving Dan standing there, stunned, staring at the engagement ring she’d just thrown into his hands.
He looked up at me, anger and despair on his face. I only smiled weakly and stepped back. This damage was more than enough!
In the evening, as I was putting the kids to bed, Jack asked me something that made my heart squeeze.
‘Mum, do you remember when Dad took all the wallpaper away?’
I tensed, expecting pain in his voice. Instead, he surprised me.
‘I’m glad we picked out new ones together,’ he said, smiling. ‘The dinosaurs in my room are way cooler than those old florals. Daddy can keep that wallpaper to himself!’
Emma nodded enthusiastically from her bed. ‘And my butterflies! They’re the prettiest in the world!’
I looked around at our colourful walls, now covered in the wallpaper we’d chosen together as a family of three. Walls that told our new story, not the one Dan was trying to tear out.
‘You know what?’ I said, pulling them both to me. ‘I think so too.’
I learned an important lesson that day: sometimes you don’t have to chase revenge. Just give karma a little time and it will restore justice, adding a poetic irony to it.
