Dan and I have married for eight years. And all this time I really believed we were a team – that everything we had was “ours”.
But I was the only one who thought it.
At the night I found out that Dan’s affair was burned into my memory. Our daughter Emma had a fever and I was losing through his drawer and looking for her cure. At that time I saw his phone light on – just a quick announcement, the heart of the emoji follow “I love you!”
I didn’t plan snoop, but I couldn’t ignore it. When I opened the message, my heart sank. There were dozens of coquettish, intimate texts between Dan and someone named Jessica.
When I confronted him, he barely blinked. “It just happened,” he said with the shoulders. “These things happen in marriage. It was just harmless drilling with Jessica, my secretary. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry. Believe me.”
And as a fool I did it – for a while. I thought people make mistakes. That forgiveness was a force. But the second time? That broke me completely.
At that time I knew: I was done. I told him to pack up and leave. And I asked for divorce.
The house was not for the debate – it was mine, handed over from my grandmother long before Dan came to the picture. But Dan insisted on a strict division of 50/50 of everything else – directly on food and throw pillows.
During the discussion of custody, Dan turned to our lawyer and accidentally said, “He may have full links. I don’t want problems with raising children.”
After everything was completed, he asked for another week to gather his belongings and “solve things”.
When he was upstairs, I came home with the children, prepared to start fresh … and I walked into the nightmare.
Beautiful floral wallpaper? Torn to pieces.
There it was – Dan – squeezed it out of the walls like a maniac.
He turned without shame and said, “I paid for this wallpaper. It’s mine.”
“Mom?” My son Jack whispered. “Why does Dad do it on our walls?”
I didn’t know what to say wouldn’t worse. I just gave Dan a cold, hard look, took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Do what you want.” Then I took the children and left.
But when I came back later that evening, it was worse than I imagined.
Dan undressed the kitchen of every dishes, toasters, coffee makers. He even took all the toilet paper. If he bought it, it was gone.
I felt broken. But I didn’t allow it to destroy me.
A month later I joined the book club – mostly I got out of the house and felt like me again. These women became my rescue rope.
One evening, for a little too much wine, I shared a story full of wallpaper – every ridiculous detail, except for the empty toilet paper holders.
Cassie, one of the women, wiped tears of laughter and said, “Girl, you avoided the rocket!”
So I didn’t know how right she was.
Six months passed. Life has settled. The children were doing well and I finally moved on. Dan barely crossed my mind – until one day he accidentally called.
“Hey,” he said, sounding smug. “He just thought you should know – I get married next month.”
“Congratulations,” I replied, undoubtedly.
But fate wasn’t done yet.
A few weeks later I enjoyed rare solo walks in the city center when I saw it across the street – hand in hand with a woman.
As they approached, my stomach turned. It was Cassie. From my book club.
She smiled clearly. “Oh my God, hey! Little world! I have to tell you – I’m engaged! This is my fiance …”
I forced a tight smile. “Yeah, Dan. I know.”
Cassie blinked, confused. “Wait … How do you know each other?”
Dan laughed embarrassingly. “It’s not a big problem.”
But I was cut, straight. “He’s my ex -husband.”
Cassie’s eyes spread. “Hold on … the story you told in the book Club … The one who pulled the wallpaper … was he?!”
She turned to Dan. “You’re walking a red flag. I can’t believe I almost got married with you.”
I just smiled weakly … and left.
Karma? Finally she went through.
Conclusion:
Some people move the “division of everything 50/50” to a brand new level – imitating the last wall of the wallpaper and the last role of toilet paper. But how absurd and painful, like those days, have taught me something essential: peace is priceless and sometimes the greatest victory is to leave with intact health.
Dan could take the wallpaper, toaster and even my friend from the book club, but he didn’t take me. Not the real self. I who found power through the heart break, humor in chaos and healing through new friendships.
So for anyone who deals with his own “Dan” version, remember – karma does not need your help. Just sit down, live your best life and watch how its magic works.
And maybe – maybe – maybe – watch on your wallpaper.