When Gina and her husband, Brendan, decide to split up, she takes a moment away from the drama by staying with her parents for a weekend. But when she returns, she finds all her belongings scattered across the lawn. With luck on her side, Gina finds a priceless item belonging to her ex-husband. Read on as she gets her revenge…

After Brendan, my husband, and I decided to split, he turned into a completely different person overnight. The man I once knew, the one I shared years of my life with, had vanished altogether.

In his place stood someone bitter and spiteful.

“You’re complaining about how I behave? About how I speak?” Brendan shouted.

“I’m just saying that you need to calm down when you’re talking to me. Screaming won’t make your point come across better,” I said, holding my head.

“Oh, please, Gina,” he bellowed louder. “You made me this way! All of your ridiculous demands and constant whining. Please, just go live your life.”

And so I did.

But as the divorce was in process, Brendan and I tried to sort out our things, ready to make a clean break.

“Just let me pack these things up, Gina,” Brendan said one day as he was going through my bookshelf.

“You’ll just take my things with you,” I countered. “I have to settle my own things first.”

“Suit yourself,” he said.

But things only got uglier. And the emotional rollercoaster had me in a constant state of nausea and uneasiness. So, I decided that I would spend the weekend at my parents’ house to clear my head.

“Yeah, run away to your parents,” Brendan said snidely as I packed an overnight bag.

“They’re better than you,” I said, walking out the door.

And honestly? It was the right call. I needed space to process everything, including the fact that I was going to be alone for the first time in twelve years. As much as Brendan and I needed to be apart, I couldn’t see my future clearly.

I also just wanted my parents to baby me for the weekend.

“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 want anything from the store, just tell Dad. He’ll do a quick run for you.”

I exhaled slowly. I was exactly where I needed to be.

“Are you sure a divorce is the way to go?” my father asked me over dinner.

“Yes,” I said sadly. “I think that if there was a time to reconcile, it was a long time ago. And we definitely missed it. Brendan and I can’t see eye-to-eye anymore. I don’t think that there’s any more love left.”

“You do what you need to do, baby,” my mother said. “If your mental health is screaming for a clean break, then that’s exactly what you need to do.”

I allowed myself to take long walks, taking Pippy, my parents’ dog, with me. I just wanted to clear my head and allow myself the space I needed to breathe.

“You’re doing the right thing,” I told myself. “There’s nothing wrong with a fresh start.”

But as I pulled into our driveway on Monday morning, ready to find Brendan and his things gone, I found something even more shocking.

All my furniture, everything that I had collected from before I met Brendan and some things while we were together, was scattered all over the lawn. A large, hand-painted sign that read “Free Stuff!” stood proudly in front of the chaos, inviting anyone passing by to help themselves to my belongings.

“What the actual hell is this?” I muttered, slamming the car door shut.

This just couldn’t be real. I stared at my coffee table, the couch I found at a flea market, and even my grandmother’s old rocking chair. All of it, just sitting there, baking in the sun, waiting to be snatched by strangers.

I kicked the sign so that it lay flat. And then I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking wildly as I dialed Brendan. The phone rang three times before he finally picked up.

“Hey, what’s up, Gina?” he answered, his voice 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 that you wanted everything. Or at least half of everything! 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 having my share of his money, but the weekend away with my parents taught me to just 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 that it wouldn’t do any good. Brendan had made up his mind, and like any dog with a bone, there was no reasoning with him.

I hung up the phone and looked at objects from my life scattered across the lawn. There was no way that I could haul all the furniture back inside by myself. Defeated and frustrated, I kicked the bedside table that I had gotten and repainted months ago.

As it hit the ground, I heard a jingling noise.

“What now?” I sighed, crouching down to open the drawer.

Inside, I found something that made me smirk despite my anger.

“Stupid Brendan,” I said, seeing that he had forgotten to take his things out of the bedside table.

Nestled among the loose change, random pens, and receipts was Brendan’s father’s watch. It was a family heirloom that he loved and cherished and barely wore for fear of losing or breaking it. It had also been passed down through generations, finally landing with Brendan.

But now, I had it hostage.

“Checkmate,” I said to myself.

I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction as I tucked the watch into my pocket. After all, he was the one who had put it out there for free. I wasn’t stealing anything.

Then, I texted my friend group, asking everyone who was available to come and help me take everything back into the house.

“Brendan is the worst, Gina,” my friend, Jenny, said holding a lamp. “This is a new low.”

“Yeah, I agree with you there,” I said. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a way to get back at him.”

I told her all about the watch and how I had it safely tucked away in my car. I knew that it was just a matter of time before Brendan realized that the watch wasn’t with him.

Later that evening, as I was arranging the last of the furniture, my phone buzzed. It was him.

“Hey, Gina,” he said. “I think I might have left something important behind. Can I come by and grab it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box in front of me.

“Please,” he said. “It’s just the bedside tables.”

“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 it back to you.”

There was a long pause.

“Gina, it’s my dad’s watch. My granddad’s watch. I really need it back.”

I let the silence stretch out for a moment before saying anything.

“I see. Well, like I said, it’s with Cathy. But I’m sure she’ll be reasonable. You know, for the right price.”

He knew I was bluffing. I could hear it in his voice. But there was no way that he could prove it, and I wasn’t about to let him off the hook easily. Nope. Brendan needed to fight for it.

“How much?” he asked.

“How much do you think it’s worth?” I asked. “A few hundred dollars, maybe?”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just get it back.”

“I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

After hanging up, I held the watch and turned it over in my hands. If we had a son, he would have been handed the watch. But thankfully, we were splitting before we had a chance to think about kids.

The next morning, Brendan showed up while I was sitting on the porch and drinking a cup of coffee.

“Here,” he said, giving me an envelope. “$500. But you know how priceless it is.”

I nodded.

“Thanks. You can leave now,” I said.

“I’ll get in touch with you about the divorce. My lawyer has some things to discuss with us.”

“Cool,” I said simply.

Brendan did a double-take, but he took the watch from me and walked away slowly, almost as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t get the words out.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

In-Law Billed Me $695 for Moth Damage after Using My House like a Storage Unit – I Gave Her a Reality Check

For five years, Andy and Sarah had given up their guest bedroom, turning it into a storage room for her parents’ belongings. But once the couple discovered that they were pregnant, they asked the older couple to remove their things, causing unnecessary friction and a surprise reward.

Five years ago, my in-laws just wanted to downsize their house. So, they set out to look for the perfect little house just for the two of them.

“We have too much space and too many things,” my father-in-law, Greg, said.

So, naturally, they asked if they could store some of their stuff in our house for a while.

“It’s just the things that we want to keep, darling,” Greg told my wife, Sarah.

We both didn’t mind it, and we had a guest room that we didn’t use.

“Sure, Dad,” my wife said. “The guest room is all yours temporarily.”

The key word here is temporarily.

But guess what? They never took their stuff back. Instead, they just kept bringing more.

For a while, Sarah and I used to joke about the guest room and how it had turned into a storage unit in our own home.

Read the full story here.

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.