After a problematic marriage, Kelly and Peter get divorced. But her ex-mother-in-law just doesn’t want to let things go. From ripping off wallpaper to stealing an entire shower cabin, Lorraine just keeps testing Kelly’s patience until reality hits, and Lorraine learns her own lesson.
I’m Kelly, and I’ve been divorced from my ex-husband, Peter, for about six months now. We were married for ten years, and while the marriage wasn’t perfect, it was my life.
Until I found out about his affair.
That was the last straw, and everything came crashing down. The divorce was messy and painful, and to top it off, I had to deal with his mother, Lorraine, who was a nightmare in human form.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Lorraine never liked me. Even when we were married, she made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t good enough for her son.
“I’m just being honest with you, Kelly. Peter is used to a certain way of life since being with me. I’m his mother, and I taught him that perfection is the only option here. You’re… I mean. Let’s face it, doll. You’re far from perfect.”
When Peter and I split up, she went out of her way to help him get as much as he could from me. Money, property, some of my wedding jewelry, you name it. If it was valuable, she made sure that I lost it.
A woman’s jewelry box | Source: Midjourney
I kept telling myself that once the divorce was over and Peter moved out, I’d finally have peace.
But the peace didn’t last.
One day, I came home from work early because I had a headache from staring at my laptop all day, and I was exhausted, ready to collapse, only to stop dead in my tracks in the hallway outside my apartment.
Sitting there, in the common corridor, was my shower cabin. It had a big, bold “Peter’s Property” sticker plastered across it as if I might somehow forget who it belonged to. My stomach sank.
A woman standing in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
What the hell was going on?
When I stepped into my apartment, I was hit by a cloud of dust and ripped wallpaper. The walls were half-bare, and I heard a ripping sound coming from down the hallway. Turning the corner, I came face-to-face with Lorraine, my ex-mother-in-law, tearing the wallpaper right off my walls.
She muttered under her breath about how she didn’t want to leave any “traces” of Peter’s work.
A pile of ripped wallpaper | Source: Midjourney
“What the hell, Lorraine?” I demanded, pushing my way into the kitchen, the only place untouched by her hands.
Lorraine looked up at me, not even flinching.
“This is all his work,” she said with that haughty tone she’d perfected over the years. “He put up this wallpaper, so it’s his to take down. And the shower cabin, it’s coming with us too. We’re not leaving anything for you.”
An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney
I was stunned. How low could they go? I’d already been drained emotionally by the divorce, and now this?
I felt helpless, watching her tear apart my home, muttering the whole time about how Peter “wasn’t leaving a single thing behind” for me. She was ripping wallpaper, unplugging light fixtures, and muttering about every single piece of the apartment that Peter had once touched.
“Lorraine,” I said. “Please, just stop. This is unfair…”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
But she didn’t even look at me. She just kept on, pulling down wallpaper and yanking at the shower frame. I felt a familiar lump rising in my throat. I was tired, too tired to fight anymore, so I just slumped onto the couch feeling numb and defeated as I watched her continue her destruction.
The next day, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Lorraine stormed back into my apartment. This time, though, she wasn’t there to take anything; she was there for help.
An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Kelly,” she cried, grabbing my arm with a desperation I’d never seen in her before. “You have to help me. Please. I’ll give you anything. Just… please help him.”
I blinked at her, confused.
“Help who? What are you talking about?”
“Peter!” she wailed, her voice breaking. “He’s in trouble. I don’t care what it takes. Please, you have to save him.”
A crying older woman | Source: Midjourney
I pulled my arm free.
“Lorraine, what are you talking about?”
She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading.
“Peter had an accident. A really terrible one. He was out drinking, and it was late. It’s really bad, Kelly. He’s hurt. Please, you have to help him.”
A car accident | Source: Midjourney
A pang shot through my chest. Peter, the man who had cheated, manipulated, and broken me, now needed my help?
A tiny voice in my head whispered that I should help him, that it was the right thing to do. But then the memories of all he’d done to me resurfaced — all the lies and manipulation.
He’d torn apart my life, and now he was paying the price.
A man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
Wasn’t that fair? Wasn’t it poetic justice in a way?
I looked back at Lorraine, who was practically on her knees.
“I’m not saving Peter, Lorraine. He made his choices. He’s finally dealing with the consequences of his actions. It was his drinking that made things really unpleasant for us. It brought out the worst in him. And you want me to get involved again?”
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Her face twisted with anger and her mouth set into a tight line.
“You’ll regret this, Kelly,” she hissed. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
I crossed my arms and met her gaze.
“No, Lorraine, I think you’re the one who’ll regret it.”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
The days that followed were filled with rumors. I heard bits and pieces about Peter’s accident, about how he’d been drinking, how he was lucky to be alive, apparently. But his recovery was rough. He was in debt, and things were piling up.
I felt a mix of relief and anger. Finally, Peter was facing something that he couldn’t charm his way out of. I decided to go to his place. I mean, I was done with Peter, but I wasn’t heartless. I just wanted to see what he looked like in the aftermath of it all.
“Come in,” he called as I knocked on the front door of Lorraine’s house.
A woman standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
At least she wasn’t home. I didn’t want to see the satisfaction on her face. To Lorraine, it would look like I wanted to help, as though I couldn’t help myself and couldn’t stay away from Peter.
“Kelly?” he enthusiastically said when he saw me.
“Peter,” I said, taking in the room.
A man on a couch | Source: Midjourney
It was a far cry from the strict house that Lorraine usually kept. Instead, there were containers of Chinese food lying around, discarded bottles of water, chocolate wrappers, and dirty mugs. Peter had really taken Lorraine’s house and made it a mess.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, lying on the couch. “I need some help, Kelly. I need my hospital bills to be paid as soon as possible. Can you do it? Please? They’ll take my car!”
“Seriously, Peter?” I asked. “I just came to make sure that you were okay physically. I’m not about to sort your life out. I’m not spending a cent on you.”
Mugs and bottles on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“Then why bother to come here?” he demanded.
“I don’t know, but clearly it was a mistake,” I said, turning around and leaving without another word.
Then, about a week later, Lorraine showed up at my door again. She wasn’t the same person who’d stormed in before. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes tired and haunted. She looked like a woman who’d aged ten years in a matter of days.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“Kelly,” she began, her voice barely a whisper. “I know I don’t deserve it, but… but I came to apologize.”
I didn’t say anything. I just put the kettle on and allowed her to keep talking.
“I was wrong about Peter,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “He’s not the man I thought he was. He ruined everything, and he pushed everyone away. I thought I was helping him all these years, but I was only making things worse.”
An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney
A part of me felt a glimmer of satisfaction seeing her so defeated. But then I noticed the genuine grief in her expression, the regret she could no longer hide.
She wasn’t just devastated about Peter’s actions; she was grieving the son she thought she had. The realization was so clear: he had been just as manipulative with her as he’d been with me. Lorraine had been caught in his web of lies, just like I had.
An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney
At that moment, something inside me softened. Lorraine wasn’t just the bitter woman who had fought against me during the divorce. She was a mother, broken by the son she’d devoted her life to.
Still, I didn’t really want to allow myself to get back into their lives. So, I invited Lorraine to stay for dinner. At least I could give her a decent meal before she went back to Peter.
Food on a table | Source: Midjourney
Months later, I received a short, handwritten letter from him. It wasn’t an excuse; it was an apology.
Kelly, I’m so sorry for everything. For betraying you, for the pain I caused. I’m working on myself now, trying to figure out who I am without all the lies. I don’t expect forgiveness. I just want you to know that I’m trying.
It was strange reading those words. But I got a sense of closure that I’d thought I’d never get.
A woman reading a letter in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Came to My Wedding and Saw My Mom in a Wedding Dress with a Bouquet
Ever since Nicole began planning her wedding, her mother had gotten very involved. When Nicole asks her to take a step back, she does so. But on the big day, her mother shows up in a wedding dress after mysteriously receiving a call instructing her to. Nicole is left fuming when she discovers who has preyed on her mother’s feelings, ensuring she will destroy them.
When Peter and I got engaged, I promised myself that the wedding planning would be smooth and easy.
A man proposing | Source: Pexels
Growing up, I wasn’t like the other girls who spent their time daydreaming about their weddings. I just knew that it would eventually happen one day, and I would need cupcakes at my wedding reception.
That was it.
A little girl playing dress up | Source: Pexels
So, I always knew that when it came to the actual event, I would need my mother to guide me.
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.
My Landlord Kicked Us Out for a Week So His Brother Could Stay In the House We Rent
When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly that I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
An old house | Source: Pexels
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
Money was always on my mind. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no cushion, no backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we’d do.
The phone rang the next day while I was hanging out laundry to dry.
A woman hanging laundry | Source: Pexels
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nancy, it’s Peterson.”
His voice made my stomach tighten. “Oh, hi, Mr. Peterson. Is everything okay?”
“I need you out of the house for a week,” he said, as casually as if he were asking me to water his plants.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“What?” I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
“My brother’s coming to town, and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. “Wait—this is my home. We have a lease!”
“Don’t start with that lease nonsense,” he snapped. “Remember when you were late on rent last month? I could’ve kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.”
An angry man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
I gripped the phone tighter. “I was late by one day,” I said, my voice shaking. “My daughter was sick. I explained that to you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’ve got till Friday to get out. Be gone, or maybe you won’t come back at all.”
“Mr. Peterson, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
An expressive woman talking | Source: Pexels
“Not my problem,” he said coldly, and then the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lily, my oldest, asked from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.
I forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Pexels
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I stood up to Peterson, he’d find an excuse to evict us for good.
By Thursday night, I’d packed what little we could carry into a few bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
A woman packing together with her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Is it far?” Sophie asked, clutching Mr. Floppy to her chest.
“Not too far,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
The hostel was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
A woman in a hostel | Source: Freepik
“Mama, it’s noisy,” Emma said, pressing her hands over her ears.
“I know, sweetie,” I said softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t work for long. Sophie’s little face crumpled, and tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Where’s Mr. Floppy?” she cried, her voice breaking.
A crying child | Source: Pexels
My stomach sank. In the rush to leave, I’d forgotten her bunny.
“He’s still at home,” I said, my throat tightening.
“I can’t sleep without him!” Sophie sobbed, clutching my arm.
I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, whispering that it would be okay. But I knew it wasn’t okay.
A woman hugging her crying child | Source: Freepik
That night, as Sophie cried herself to sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling completely helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Every sob felt like a knife to my heart.
“Please, Mama,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I want Mr. Floppy.”
I held her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
A crying girl | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’ll get him,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding as I stared at the house. What if they didn’t let me in? What if Mr. Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind.
A thoughtful woman in front of her house | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Sophie’s desperate “please” echoing in my ears. My knuckles rapped against the wood, and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood there. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
A man in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” I stammered. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m the tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside, and I was hoping I could grab it.”
He blinked at me. “Wait. You live here?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But Mr. Peterson told us we had to leave for a week because you were staying here.”
A sad woman in the doorway | Source: Pexels
His brows furrowed. “What? My brother said the place was empty and ready for me to move in for a bit.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “It’s not empty. This is my home. My kids and I are crammed into a hostel across town. My youngest can’t sleep because she doesn’t have her bunny.”
A sad young woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, and for a second, I thought he was angry at me. Instead, he muttered, “That son of a…” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I had no idea. Come in, and we’ll find the bunny.”
A serious young man opening his door | Source: Midjourney
He stepped aside, and I hesitated before walking in. The familiar smell of home hit me, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. Jack—he introduced himself as Jack—helped me search Sophie’s room, which looked untouched.
“Here he is,” Jack said, pulling Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
A pink stuffed bunny under a bed | Source: Midjourney
I held the bunny close, imagining Sophie’s joy. “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Tell me everything,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “What exactly did my brother say to you?”
I hesitated but told him everything: the call, the threats, the hostel. He listened quietly, his jaw tightening with every word.
A couple talking | Source: Midjourney
When I finished, he stood and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t right,” he said.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Fixing this,” he said, dialing.
The conversation that followed was heated, though I could only hear his side.
A serious man on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You kicked a single mom and her kids out of their home? For me?” Jack’s voice was sharp. “No, you’re not getting away with this. Fix it now, or I will.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Pack your things at the hostel. You’re coming back tonight.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What about you?”
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he said firmly. “I can’t stay here after what my brother pulled. And he’ll cover your rent for the next six months.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
That evening, Jack helped us move back in. Sophie lit up when she saw Mr. Floppy, her little arms clutching the bunny like a treasure.
“Thank you,” I told Jack as we unpacked. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I couldn’t let you stay there another night,” he said simply.
A young child holding her toy | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, Jack kept showing up. He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen. One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
A man with groceries | Source: Pexels
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project. Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures. He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
A couple on a date night | Source: Pexels
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
A young man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued. “Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us. Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr. Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
A woman tucking her daughter in | Source: Midjourney
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
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.
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