When I first moved into Alice’s cosy three-bedroom flat, everything was great. We shared the rent, kept to a cleaning schedule, and even became friends quickly. But after three months, cracks began to appear.
Alice stopped cleaning up after herself. Dishes piled up in the sink, her clothes were scattered everywhere, and the rubbish bin was always overflowing. Worse, she invited friends over without warning me, and they left the flat in complete chaos.
Every time I asked her about cleaning, she dismissed me or said she was “too busy”. The turning point came when she started calling me “Cinderella” and joking that I was her maid. Such disrespect infuriated me, but I kept my mouth shut — until the evening of her date.
—
Alice had a big night planned with her new boyfriend Mark. She wanted the flat to be spotless and demanded that I clean it, saying, ‘Cinderella, you love cleaning, don’t you? Make everything perfect for my big night.’ Who needs a fairy godmother when I have you?”
That was it. I’d had enough. If she wanted to treat me like Cinderella, I was going to show her how magical her life could be — but not in the way she expected.
—
As soon as Alice left to get ready, I started cleaning the flat. I washed the floors, wiped down all the surfaces, tidied up the kitchen and living room. The flat looked immaculate — just as she wanted it. But then it was my turn.
I gathered up all the things Alice had left behind—dirty laundry, shoes, half-empty snack bags, and all the random junk she had scattered around the room—and piled it neatly in her bedroom. I even included the rubbish from the overflowing bins. All the stray cups, plates and scraps of letters went straight into her bed. To top it all off, I closed her door so that the mess wouldn’t be visible to the other residents of the flat.
When she returned, she came in with Mark, her heels clicking on the freshly washed floor. ‘Wow, everything looks amazing!’ she said, giving me a smug smile. ‘Thanks, Cinderella.’
I smiled sweetly. ‘No problem, Alice. Your room is ready too.’
Embarrassed, she opened the door to her bedroom, and her jaw dropped. Mark peered over her shoulder, his eyes widening at the sight of the mountain of chaos covering the bed and floor.
‘What the hell, Alice?’ she exclaimed. ‘Why are all these things in my room?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, you wanted the rest of the flat to be clean for your date, so I thought it would be best to keep your things in one place. Don’t worry, it’s all your stuff, so you can sort through it when you have time.’
Mark stifled a laugh, clearly unimpressed by her outburst. Alice shot me a look, but couldn’t say anything in front of him without looking pathetic.
—
After Mark left, Alice stormed into the living room to argue with me. ‘That was so immature!’ she snapped.
‘Immature?’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘You’ve been treating me like a servant for months. If you don’t want to deal with the mess, then maybe you should start cleaning up after yourself.’
To my surprise, she actually apologised — not entirely sincerely, but enough to ease the tension. More importantly, she began to fulfil her household responsibilities. She no longer called me ‘Cinderella,’ and the passive-aggressive comments stopped.
—
In the end, Alice realised that using someone for her own benefit had consequences. And although the flat wasn’t always perfect, at least she started treating me with respect. As for me? I learned that sometimes the best way to deal with an unpleasant situation is to let someone else deal with it themselves.
