“It’s Just a Little Fun,” He Said — Until Karma Had Its Turn
My ex-husband once said, “It’s just a little fun,” when I discovered the affair that destroyed our marriage. Harmless, he claimed. After the divorce, he even returned to the house—our home—and began tearing down the wallpaper, saying it was his because he paid for it.
Well, Karma decided it was time to have some fun too—at his expense.
I was married to Eli for eight years. We lived in a beautiful, sunlit house my grandmother had left me. It smelled like lavender and was filled with warmth, love, and the laughter of our two children.
For years, I thought we had a great life. Eli had a stable job, I freelanced from home, and we juggled parenting like a team—until I found out about his affair.
The first time, I forgave him. Against my instincts, I gave him another chance. I wanted to believe he regretted it and that we could move forward.
But the second time?
There were no apologies. I filed for divorce that very day.
It hurt. Deeply. But I walked away with my dignity.
The divorce went surprisingly smoothly. I kept the house—it had always been mine—and we split the rest evenly. As for the kids? Eli said he wanted me to have full custody.
“I’m not good with routines,” he mumbled, scratching his neck. “You’re better at that.”
Translation: “I don’t want the responsibility.”
Fine. I could handle it. The kids needed consistency, not chaos.
Eli promised to move out by the weekend. To give him space, I sent the kids to stay with my mom for a few days.
I expected to come home to quiet. To closure.
Instead, I came back to a scene straight out of a demolition site.
The delicate floral wallpaper my grandmother had once chosen—soft blue blossoms on a cream background—was shredded. Chunks of drywall stuck out like exposed bones. And there was Eli, in the kitchen, violently ripping down what was left.
I stood there, stunned. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t even blink. “I paid for this wallpaper,” he said flatly, pulling down another strip. “It’s mine.”
“You’re destroying your children’s home,” I said, my voice trembling.
He shrugged. “My money. My wallpaper.”
I felt Alex and Mia behind me, peeking around the corner. I could feel their confusion, their unease.
I looked at him one last time. “Do whatever you want,” I said, my hands shaking but my voice steady. “We’ll be somewhere else.”
And we left.
I knew, in my heart, that life would return every strip of that wallpaper back to him in its own time.
When I came back later, he was gone. So was everything he had paid for—the toaster, the knives, even the lightbulbs in the guest bathroom. As a final act of pettiness, he had used up every roll of toilet paper.
I stood in the kitchen, half-empty, and just laughed.
The next six months were about rebuilding—habits, routines, and memories. I let the kids pick new wallpaper. Alex chose dinosaurs. Mia picked sparkly unicorns. I painted the house, room by room, until it felt like ours again.
Then, out of the blue, Eli called.
“Hey, Ava,” he said, overly cheerful. “Just wanted to let you know—I’m getting married next month!”
I felt my stomach twist. “To who?”
“She’s amazing. Beautiful. Brilliant. Can you believe some women still want me?”
“Congratulations,” I said flatly, hanging up before he could say more.
Weeks later, I saw him at the farmers’ market on a rare solo Saturday. He was walking hand in hand with a tall woman in heels and designer sunglasses.
As they got closer, I realized who she was—Naomi. My old book club friend.
Her face lit up when she saw me. “Ava! What a surprise!”
She tugged Eli forward proudly. “This is my fiancé! His name is—”
“Eli,” I said with a smile. “Yes. I know.”
Naomi’s smile faltered. “Wait—you know each other?”
Eli’s face turned pale.
“We go way back,” I said casually.
Naomi tilted her head. “As in… how?”
She turned to Eli. “Do you know her?”
He forced a chuckle. “It’s nothing—”
“Actually,” I said, “he’s my ex-husband.”
Her eyes widened. “Hold on. You’re the ex who cheated? Who said his ex-wife moved to Europe with the kids?”
Eli’s jaw clenched.
“And wait,” Naomi gasped. “You told that story at book club… about the guy who tore wallpaper down after a divorce? Was that you, Ava?”
I didn’t have to say anything. It was written all over his face.
Naomi turned to him, furious. “Oh my God. It was you?! You tore down wallpaper because you paid for it? Who even does that?”
“That’s not—” he stammered.
“And you lied about everything! You said you were the one betrayed. You painted her as the villain. You’re disgusting.”
She turned to me. “Ava, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Before I could speak, she pulled off her engagement ring and shoved it into Eli’s hand.
“We’re done. Good luck being you for the rest of your life.”
She stormed off, heels clicking like war drums.
Eli stood frozen, the ring shaking in his hand.
I gave him a quiet smile… then walked away.
No drama. No revenge. Just closure.
That night, as I tucked the kids into bed, Alex looked up.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember when Dad ripped the wallpaper?”
I paused, unsure what he remembered.
He smiled. “I’m glad he did.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” he said, pointing to his wall. “Now I have dinosaurs. I picked them. Dad can keep the old stuff.”
I looked around at the brilliant blue walls covered in ancient creatures and smiled. In Mia’s room, pink unicorns and glittering stars twinkled gently on purple walls.
They weren’t just decorations.
They were declarations—of healing, growth, and who we had become.
“You know what, Alex?” I said, hugging him tight. “I think you’re right.”
That day, Naomi reminded me of something important.
I didn’t need to scream. I didn’t need to ruin him. I didn’t need revenge.
Karma already had him on speed dial.
He lost his fiancée, his pride, and the chance to be seen as anything other than the guy who tore down wallpaper in a childish fit.
Me?
I got something better—peace. Love. Two kids who know how to rebuild what’s broken.
Because sometimes, drywall and broken hearts are gifts in disguise.
And if you’re patient enough?
Karma redecorates.