When Gina and her husband Brendan decided to separate, she took a break from the drama by staying with her parents for the weekend. But when she came back home, she was shocked to find all her things spread out on the lawn.
To her surprise, Gina discovered a valuable item that belonged to Brendan among the scattered items. This turn of events gave her a chance for some well-deserved revenge.
After deciding to split up, Brendan changed completely. The man she had shared her life with was now replaced by someone who was bitter and resentful.

“You’re complaining about how I act? How I talk?” Brendan shouted.
“I’m just saying you need to calm down. Yelling won’t help you get your point across,” I said, holding my head.
“Oh, come on, Gina,” he yelled even louder. “You made me this way! With all your demands and constant complaints. Just go live your life.”

So, I did.
As the divorce moved forward, Brendan and I tried to organize our things and make a clean break.
“Just let me pack up these items, Gina,” Brendan said one day, rummaging through my bookshelf.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=720187423&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.23~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902305&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294117&bpp=2&bdt=1491&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592&nras=6&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=2645&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=300&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=5&uci=a!5&btvi=3&fsb=1&dtd=11228
“You’ll just end up taking my things with you,” I replied. “I need to sort out my own stuff first.”
“Fine,” he said.

But things only got worse. The emotional stress left me feeling constantly nauseous and uneasy. So, I decided to spend the weekend at my parents’ house to clear my head.
“Yeah, run away to your parents,” Brendan sneered as I packed an overnight bag.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=1527610060&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.33~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902308&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294129&bpp=2&bdt=1503&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280&nras=7&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=3165&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=800&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=1&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=6&uci=a!6&btvi=4&fsb=1&dtd=14067
“They’re better than you,” I said, walking out the door.

And honestly? It was the right choice. I needed space to process everything, especially the fact that I was going to be on my own for the first time in twelve years. Even though Brendan and I needed to be apart, I couldn’t see my future clearly.
I also just wanted my parents to take care of me for the weekend.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=1586282284&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.41~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902319&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294136&bpp=1&bdt=1510&idt=1&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=8&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=3674&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=1400&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=7&uci=a!7&btvi=5&fsb=1&dtd=25709
“Oh, Gina,” my mother said as she took out a tray of delicious roast lamb. “All you need to do is eat and rest. Whatever you want to eat, just tell me and I’ll make it. And if you need anything from the store, just tell Dad. He’ll make a quick run for you.”

I took a deep breath. I was exactly where I needed to be.
“Are you sure a divorce is the right choice?” my father asked me during dinner.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=2314894532&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.49~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902326&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294141&bpp=2&bdt=1514&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=9&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=4182&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=1900&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=8&uci=a!8&btvi=6&fsb=1&dtd=32261
“Yes,” I said with a heavy heart. “If there was ever a chance for us to fix things, it was a long time ago. We’ve missed that chance. Brendan and I just don’t see things the same way anymore. I don’t think there’s any love left between us.”

“You do what you need to do, honey,” my mother said. “If your mental health is telling you that you need a fresh start, then that’s what you should go for.”
I took her advice to heart and spent my time taking long walks with Pippy, my parents’ dog. I needed to clear my head and give myself the space to breathe.
https://googleads.g.doubleclick.net/pagead/ads?gdpr=0&us_privacy=1—&gpp_sid=-1&client=ca-pub-1773658762833587&output=html&h=280&adk=1030787214&adf=44561737&pi=t.aa~a.95137260~i.57~rp.4&w=622&abgtt=7&fwrn=4&fwrnh=100&lmt=1725902328&num_ads=1&rafmt=1&armr=3&sem=mc&pwprc=1191565633&ad_type=text_image&format=622×280&url=https%3A%2F%2Fjokesdaddy.com%2Fi-returned-home-to-find-my-furniture-on-the-curb-my-exs-revenge-was-a-total-flop%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwY2xjawFMDSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHYAHkHko4VBJwIKgo-i2YcTNliNhvQJKX2gLUYIJeKwHrdqYp9JbH7Enog_aem_8Tw_lJmy-8mQGSYVjGHsWg&host=ca-host-pub-2644536267352236&fwr=0&pra=3&rh=156&rw=622&rpe=1&resp_fmts=3&wgl=1&fa=27&uach=WyJXaW5kb3dzIiwiMC4zLjAiLCJ4ODYiLCIiLCIxMDkuMC41NDE0LjE2OCIsbnVsbCwwLG51bGwsIjY0IixbWyJOb3RfQSBCcmFuZCIsIjk5LjAuMC4wIl0sWyJHb29nbGUgQ2hyb21lIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXSxbIkNocm9taXVtIiwiMTA5LjAuNTQxNC4xNjgiXV0sMF0.&dt=1725902294148&bpp=1&bdt=1522&idt=2&shv=r20240904&mjsv=m202409040101&ptt=9&saldr=aa&abxe=1&cookie=ID%3Da1918bbb8764ee47%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MaZVumXXHZ_r8ay8rIc_wLHZkNFRA&gpic=UID%3D00000de8294ca1d6%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DALNI_MYK6Nwd1vVe2KMyk5-RmsEA7W_MdQ&eo_id_str=ID%3D416b984e50de4687%3AT%3D1712800604%3ART%3D1725902290%3AS%3DAA-AfjaIy_YNLEGxhgDI–Ucx1la&prev_fmts=0x0%2C980x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C1031x592%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280%2C622x280&nras=10&correlator=1544306263510&frm=20&pv=1&u_tz=420&u_his=2&u_h=768&u_w=1360&u_ah=728&u_aw=1360&u_cd=24&u_sd=1&dmc=8&adx=46&ady=4736&biw=1031&bih=592&scr_x=0&scr_y=2400&eid=44759876%2C44759927%2C44759837%2C31086863%2C44795921%2C95331689%2C95338228%2C95341662%2C95342032&oid=2&psts=AOrYGsmf74lC_o21lLWT-y8JkPdukEJjdEVLTcFNTTiI2MZtQZOn7gm9fqBXJQ204LPhK5TyyxqB7RJhCBpYrWpEH-d-pg%2CAOrYGslm7CZaHYJzHMUmoGvGJvYYp6CdXPnY5Kqrg8UwXSl9jtcaAW2FWR21z4RRl7V_999Rm6DuOU4vb3WsX2AqBwh4lOA%2CAOrYGsn1iALXUthP_uepeflxfYJ3mJhDDjEuRc4KMfVMdd9wGa9hfSH_6kGIKr7cb7_mBUbdcC5gbV6sbGZ2HwBUV2-sNAY&pvsid=1127631096421780&tmod=632698115&uas=3&nvt=1&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fl.facebook.com%2F&fc=1408&brdim=147%2C16%2C147%2C16%2C1360%2C0%2C1064%2C712%2C1048%2C592&vis=1&rsz=%7C%7Cs%7C&abl=NS&fu=128&bc=31&bz=1.02&psd=W251bGwsbnVsbCxudWxsLDNd&ifi=9&uci=a!9&btvi=7&fsb=1&dtd=34664
“You’re making the right choice,” I reassured myself. “There’s nothing wrong with starting over.”

When I got home on Monday morning, expecting to find Brendan and his things gone, I was met with a shock.
My entire collection of furniture, from before and during our marriage, was spread all over the lawn. A huge hand-painted sign that said “Free Stuff!” was proudly displayed, inviting anyone passing by to take whatever they wanted.

“What on earth is this?” I muttered, slamming the car door.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My coffee table, the flea market couch, and even my grandmother’s old rocking chair were all out on the lawn, baking in the sun and waiting to be taken by anyone who passed by.
I kicked the sign down so it lay flat and pulled out my phone, my hands shaking as I dialed Brendan. After three rings, he finally answered.

“Hey, what’s up, Gina?” he answered, sounding casual, almost smug.
“What’s up?” I echoed. “What’s up?”
“Yeah, that’s what I asked,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? Why is all my furniture on the lawn? Are you absolutely out of your mind?”
There was a pause before he replied.

“You were going to sue for all my money anyway,” he said. “I heard you on the phone with someone. I know you wanted everything, or at least half of it! So you might as well know how it feels to lose what’s yours.”
I was speechless.
Sure, I had thought about taking him for a ride and getting my share of his money, but the weekend away with my parents had taught me to let it go.

“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” I finally managed to say. “You think this is going to solve anything? You’re just making things worse for yourself.”
He scoffed loudly.
“Whatever. It’s your problem now. Maybe you should charge people for your things instead of letting them take it for free.”
I wanted to scream, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Brendan had made up his mind, and like any dog with a bone, there was no reasoning with him.

I crouched down and opened the drawer, where I found a small, velvet pouch. As I opened it, my heart raced. Inside was a stunning gold necklace with a large diamond pendant—one that Brendan had always bragged about but claimed was lost.
I couldn’t believe my luck. Brendan’s petty move had actually handed me a priceless item. I smiled despite everything.
I took a deep breath, feeling a spark of satisfaction. This necklace, once a symbol of Brendan’s arrogance, was now mine. I packed it away carefully, deciding it would be my little piece of revenge.
Seeing the family heirloom tucked away in the drawer, a smirk crept onto my face despite my anger. Brendan’s father’s watch, a cherished piece that he rarely wore, was now in my hands.
“Stupid Brendan,” I muttered under my breath. He’d clearly overlooked this valuable item in his hasty revenge.
I carefully wrapped the watch and tucked it into my bag alongside the necklace. As much as the whole situation had been frustrating, it felt good to have something of value—something Brendan truly cared about—as a small victory in this mess.
As I slipped Brendan’s watch into my pocket, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph. “Checkmate,” I said to myself, a small smile on my face. He had left it out there for anyone to take, and I wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste.
Next, I quickly texted my friends, asking for help to move everything back into the house. Their support would be crucial in getting my belongings back inside safely.
“Brendan is the worst, Gina,” my friend Jenny said, carrying a lamp. “This is a new low.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there,” I replied. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a way to get back at him.”
I explained to Jenny about the watch and how I had it safely tucked away in my car. I was sure Brendan would eventually notice it was missing, and I was ready to use it as a bargaining chip.

“Look, the neighbors came over and took a few things. The bedside tables are gone too. But if you’re polite enough, I’m sure Cathy will sell them back to you.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“Gina, it’s my dad’s watch. My granddad’s watch. I really need it back.”
I let the silence stretch for a moment before responding.
“I see. Well, like I said, it’s with Cathy. But I’m sure she’ll be reasonable. You know, for the right price.”
I nodded and said, “Thanks. You can leave now.”
“I’ll get in touch with you about the divorce. My lawyer has some things to discuss with us,” he replied.
“Cool,” I said simply.
Brendan did a double-take, then took the watch from me and walked away slowly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives

My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
Leave a Reply