Whether it’s a cheating spouse, an entitled individual, or a selfish family member, karma spares no one. These five stories showcase how it serves justice even when things seem like they’ve gone out of control.
Karma, the cosmic force of cause and effect, often works in mysterious ways. But sometimes, it strikes with immediate and undeniable impact.
In this collection, we present five stories where wrongdoers faced instant consequences, reminding us that what goes around truly does come around.
1. My Sister Threw Our Grandpa a Birthday Party but Demanded That He Pay for It When the Bill Came — Karma Retaliated
When my younger sister Ariel offered to plan Grandpa’s 90th birthday, I knew things would go awry, but I didn’t expect this. The first odd thing I noticed was the party venue.
Ariel chose a sushi restaurant for the party knowing well that Grandpa didn’t like sushi. To make matters worse, the guests were mostly her loud university friends. Grandpa’s friends and relatives? She didn’t even invite them.
When I confronted her during the party, she brushed off my concerns saying Grandpa was “happy to hang out with the youth” when he was clearly feeling out of place.
It seemed like Ariel had thrown a party for her friends while Grandpa just sat in a corner. I felt so terrible for him.
Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Ariel handed the bill to Grandpa.
“Here you go, Gramps! Happy birthday! Time to pay up!” she laughed, oblivious to the disaster.
I couldn’t stay quiet.
“Ariel, what are you doing? Gramps shouldn’t pay for his own birthday!”
I snatched the bill, but Gramps, always the peacekeeper, offered to pay.
“It’s alright, Jocelyn. I can handle it,” he said.
I wasn’t letting that happen.
“Let me take care of this, Gramps,” I smiled. “You’ve done enough for all of us.”
Then, as Ariel went back to her friends, I asked the bartender for the aux cable. I pretended I wanted to play a special song for Grandpa.
Instead, I plugged the cable into my phone and played Ariel’s voice messages where she was ranting about her friends. The same friends who were sitting right there.
“I can’t stand my roommate!” her voice echoed across the room. “She’s always in my space, and her boyfriend is the worst. He’s such a slob, and she’s just as bad!”
I watched in silence as Ariel’s jaw dropped open and her friends looked at her with wide eyes. Soon, all of her friends left, and she just sat there in silence.
Ariel knew why I’d played the audio, and didn’t have the guts to confront me.
That’s when Gramps, ever wise, looked at Ariel and said, “Ariel, you need to take responsibility for your actions. This isn’t how we treat family or friends.”
“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Ariel apologized.
Grandpa and I didn’t have to say a lot to make her realize how wrong it was to invite her friends to Grandpa’s birthday party, and then ask him to pay the bill. Karma had done its job, and I was sure Ariel wouldn’t dare do such an immature thing again.
2. Man in Walmart Demanded That I Give up My Wheelchair for His Tired Wife – Karma Got Him before I Could
I was rolling through Walmart in my wheelchair when Mr. Entitled blocked my path.
“My wife’s tired. Give her your wheelchair,” he demanded, gesturing to the woman behind him.
I blinked, thinking it was some weird joke. “Uh, sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” he snapped. “She’s been on her feet all day. You’re young, you can walk.”
“I can’t walk,” I explained. “That’s why I need this chair.”
But he wasn’t buying it.
“You’re faking it!” he barked, his face growing red.
Things escalated quickly as a Walmart employee, Miguel, intervened.
“Sir, we can’t ask someone to give up a mobility aid,” Miguel said calmly.
But Mr. Entitled kept yelling, demanding a manager and ranting about my supposed “fraud.” Just as he stepped back, karma struck. LITERALLY.
He stumbled into a display of canned vegetables, crashing to the floor as cans rolled everywhere.
His wife rushed over, while Mr. Entitled tried to get up, only to slip on another can and fall again.
The whole store was watching at that point, and I couldn’t suppress a laugh. Miguel tried his best to help him, but Mr. Entitled ranted about suing the store before his wife hurried him out.
I still wonder what would’ve happened next if she wasn’t there.
3. I Came Home to See My Furniture Put up for Grabs — My Ex-husband’s Petty Revenge Backfired Spectacularly
After about four years of marriage, Brendan and I decided to split. I won’t go into the details behind it, but all I knew was he had become so much bitter after this decision. It was getting too unbearable to stay with him in the same house.
As a result, I went to my parents’ house to clear my mind one weekend. But when I returned, I found all my furniture scattered across 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.
Furious, I kicked the sign over and immediately called Brendan.
“Why is my furniture on the lawn?” I demanded.
“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.”
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 yelled. “You think this is going to solve anything? You’re just making things worse for yourself.”
“Whatever. It’s your problem now,” he replied. “Maybe you should charge people for your things instead of letting them take it for free.”
I was speechless. I knew arguing with him was pointless, so I hung up.
I looked around at the furniture, thinking if I could ask a friend to store these things until I found a new place. That’s when my gaze landed on the bedside table, and I remembered what was there inside the drawer.
It was Brendan’s father’s prized watch.
It was a family heirloom that Brendan cherished, but now I had it hostage.
A few hours later, I was at a friend’s place who had helped me store the furniture in her garage and offered me a place to stay. We were having pizza when Brendan called, realizing he’d left the watch in the drawer.
“Please, Gina, I need the watch back,” he pleaded.
“The neighbors took the bedside tables,” I lied. “You might have to buy it back from them.”
After making him sweat, he eventually offered $500 to “buy it back.”
The next morning, he handed me an envelope, while I handed over the watch. I can never forget the defeated look on his face!
4. My Parents Spent All My College Fund Inheritance from Grandpa, but Karma Struck Back
After my grandfather passed, he left his entire inheritance to me for college, but the money was kept in my parents’ account until I turned 18.
When I checked at 19, the account was empty.
Furious, I confronted my parents and learned the truth: they had drained the funds to bail out my brother, who had squandered his finances on a luxury car and debts. Worse, they used the remaining money for a lavish house.
“How could you sacrifice my future for his mistakes?” I demanded, devastated by their betrayal.
My parents offered weak excuses, prioritizing my brother over my dreams. I can’t explain how abandoned and betrayed I felt.
As a result, I cut off contact with them and worked toward my career. I got a job, found a grant, and enrolled in another university. As years passed, I became financially stable and even started paying for my own house.
Then, karma struck.
I was in my office when I received a call from my brother.
“Can we meet?” he asked. “Please don’t say no.”
I hesitated, but curiosity got the better of me. When we finally met, he was unexpectedly warm, still, I remained skeptical. It wasn’t long before he asked me for money to help our parents.
It turned out that my parents’ house investment had collapsed, leaving them in debt. I knew this was karma doing its job, but I didn’t feel good. I felt bad because they were my parents, and I still loved them.
So, I decided to visit them. I still remember how they broke down in tears and begged for forgiveness. They had realized what they had done, so I forgave them.
5. My Husband Cheated on Me With Secretary, Then Karma Crushed Him Back
My husband Brody and I met at work, and we continued with the same jobs after our wedding. I always thought working with him in the same office was so cool until I caught him cheating with his secretary, Lila.
I still remember how I couldn’t even move when I caught him caressing her legs in front of everyone at the office. My heart sank as I realized how publicly he was flaunting his affair.
“Brody, what’s going on here?” I confronted him.
He didn’t even flinch.
“We’re discussing work,” he said, with Lila smirking beside him.
“By putting your hands up her skirt?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes. “In front of everyone?”
“Don’t make a scene, Shirley,” he snapped. “You should be grateful I’m still coming home. But I’m done. I’m filing for divorce, and I’ll take the house. You deserve nothing.”
I was too shocked to react. I just quietly watched him walk away with Lila.
That night, I didn’t have the guts to go home. Instead, I sat in a cheap hotel room, crying and questioning everything.
Was this really my life? I thought. How did I let it get this bad?
The next morning, I dragged myself to work, dreading the looks I knew I’d get from my coworkers. Sure enough, their gazes were filled with pity.
I wanted to disappear, to resign and leave it all behind. But I couldn’t.
The thought of not finding another job scared me. I had bills to pay, and starting over wasn’t something I could afford. Little did I know that fate would soon turn my life in a better direction.
A few days later, the company hired a new boss, Mr. Anderson. Word spread fast that he was sharp, no-nonsense, and talented. As a result, everyone kept their head down and focused on work.
Then came the bombshell. Brody was fired.
It turned out he had been skimming money from the company for months, manipulating the finances in ways he thought no one would ever notice. But Mr. Anderson spotted the discrepancies almost immediately.
Brody’s arrogance had finally caught up with him, and the man who flaunted his affair so proudly was now out of a job.
I won’t lie, I felt a small sense of satisfaction. Karma had done its job, and I hadn’t even lifted a finger. But the story doesn’t end here.
Brody showed up at my door a few weeks after that. He mumbled something about making mistakes and how he missed me. He wanted back into my life, but I stood firm.
“No, Brody,” I said sternly. “You made your choices, and now you have to live with them. I’m done.”
And with that, I closed the door in his face, feeling stronger than I had in years.
My MIL Threw Away All My Food from the Fridge – I Responded on Her Birthday
My MIL Threw Away All My Food from the Fridge – I Responded on Her Birthday
Living under the same roof with my mother-in-law had been challenging from the start. The cultural differences between us had always been a point of contention, but I never expected it to escalate to the point of her disposing of all my cooking supplies.
The food I cook, a vibrant representation of my South Asian heritage, means more to me than just sustenance; it’s a connection to my roots, my family, and my identity. However, the disdain from my mother-in-law towards my culture and the food I love became painfully evident the day I found my pantry emptied.
Kebabs roasting | Source: Pexels
Having my mother-in-law move in was never going to be easy. The dynamics in our household shifted dramatically, but I had hoped for a semblance of respect and understanding. My husband, whose palate has embraced the diverse flavors of my cooking, has been caught in the middle of this cultural clash. His efforts to mediate have been commendable, yet the strain is visible, eroding the harmony we once shared.
A rice dish with various furnishings | Source: Pexels
The disparaging comments from my mother-in-law weren’t new to me. She had always made her feelings known, criticizing the way I eat with my hands as if it were something to be ashamed of, or the aromatic spices that filled our home, dismissing them as offensive. My husband’s attempts to defend me and educate her on the beauty and diversity of other cultures seemed futile.
Various spices | Source: Pexels
Living with her constant judgments and disregard for my heritage was testing my patience, but I had chosen to remain silent, attributing her behavior to the stress of the quarantine.
The morning I discovered the empty pantry was a breaking point. The realization that she had taken it upon herself to throw away not just the food but a piece of my identity was shocking. Her justification, claiming it was for the sake of her son’s dietary preferences, was a blatant disregard for me, my culture, and even her son’s choices.
Jards in a pantry | Source: Pexels
It was clear she viewed my heritage as inferior, something to be erased and replaced with what she considered “normal American food,” as if my being American wasn’t valid because of my ethnic background.
My frustration was compounded by the challenge of replenishing my supplies. The quarantine had already made grocery shopping a daunting task, and finding specific ingredients for my dishes was nearly impossible due to shortages. Returning home empty-handed to face her audacious questioning about dinner plans was the epitome of insult to injury.
A woman doing grocery shopping | Source: Pexels
In that moment, feeling belittled and disrespected in my own home, something shifted within me. I realized that remaining silent and attempting to keep the peace had only emboldened her disrespect. It was clear that direct confrontation or seeking my husband’s intervention again would not suffice. Her actions were a direct challenge to my identity and my place in this family, and I could not let it stand unaddressed.
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
As I stood there, facing her smug inquiry about dinner, a calm resolve settled over me. I knew that any response I gave now would only lead to more dismissals of my feelings and heritage. But I wasn’t going to play by her rules anymore. I wasn’t just going to find a way to cook with the limited ingredients I had or try to explain yet again why her actions were hurtful and unacceptable.
No, I had another plan.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
With a clear objective in mind, I channeled all my frustration and determination into creating a masterful culinary strategy. My mother-in-law’s upcoming party, intended to be a grand social event, provided the perfect stage for my plan. She had envisioned this party as a showcase of her taste and sophistication, expecting a menu of classic American cuisine to appeal to her guests’ palates. However, I saw an opportunity to subtly introduce the very essence of my heritage that she had so vehemently rejected.
A dinner party | Source: Pexels
As I took over the kitchen to prepare the dishes for the party, I decided to infuse each “American” dish with a touch of Indian flair. The burgers were seasoned with garam masala, the potato salad hinted at cumin and coriander, and the apple pie was laced with cardamom. The transformation was subtle, enough to intrigue but not overwhelm, a culinary bridge between my world and hers.
A dish with potato salad | Source: Pexels
The party was in full swing, with guests mingling and enjoying the ambiance. As they began to eat, their reactions were unanimous – surprise and delight at the unexpected flavors. One by one, they approached my mother-in-law with compliments, praising the innovative and delicious twist on traditional dishes. Each compliment was a testament to the universal language of good food, transcending cultural barriers and prejudices.
People enjoying a dinner party | Source: Pexels
Caught off guard by the barrage of praise, my mother-in-law tasted the food with a critical eye, expecting to justify her disdain for Indian cuisine. However, the scene before her, a room full of guests genuinely enjoying the food, forced a change in perspective. The initial instinct to reject the unfamiliar flavors was overshadowed by the realization that her biases were unfounded. The food was not just accepted; it was celebrated.
People enjoying a meal | Source: Pexels
This moment of revelation was pivotal for my mother-in-law. Witnessing the joy and satisfaction her friends experienced from the very cuisine she had scorned, she understood the futility of her resistance.
It dawned on her that her aversion to Indian food was merely a manifestation of her deeper biases against my cultural background. The reality that her son’s happiness was intricately linked to embracing his wife’s heritage finally broke through her stubborn prejudice.
People talking and laughing at a table full of food | Source: Pexels
The aftermath of the party marked a significant shift in our household dynamics. My mother-in-law’s acknowledgment of her misplaced animosity paved the way for a more harmonious coexistence. The tension that once permeated our interactions began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious mutual respect. Although this understanding did not erase all the challenges we faced, it was a crucial step towards reconciliation.
An upset older woman | Source: Pexels
Despite the progress in our relationship, the arrangement of living together remained untenable for all involved. My mother-in-law, perhaps recognizing the need for space to allow our relationship to continue healing, decided to move to her daughter’s place. This decision was met with a collective sigh of relief, a necessary change that promised a fresh start for everyone.
A happy woman | Source: Pexels
In the end, the experience taught us all invaluable lessons about acceptance, respect, and the power of food as a unifying force. While the road to fully bridging our cultural divide would be long and fraught with challenges, the party served as a poignant reminder of the potential for change. It underscored the importance of looking beyond our prejudices and embracing the diversity that enriches our lives.
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