Judith and Chris are blindsided when their landlady abruptly demands they vacate the dream apartment they painstakingly renovated. Forced out by the landlady’s manipulative sister, they scramble to find a new home, unaware of the deceit that lies beneath. But karma has a way of balancing the scales.
You know that feeling when you finally find a place that feels like home? That was our old apartment.
It was a dump when we first moved in, but we struck a deal with our landlady that we’d renovate the place in exchange for paying a lower rent.
Two years of sweat, savings, and every ounce of creativity Chris and I could muster had gone into turning that rundown space into something we could truly call our own.
“Judith,” she began, her voice heavy with regret, “I’ve made such a mess of things. I never should have let Lisa move in. She’s ruining everything, and I don’t know what to do. Please, I’m begging you, come back. I’ll waive the rent for several months if you just… please!”
Part of me wanted to scream at her, to tell her how much she’d hurt us, how she’d let her sister’s lies tear apart everything we’d worked so hard to create.
But another part of me, the part that had been quietly healing, knew that going back would mean reopening old wounds.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson,” I said softly. “But we can’t come back. That place… it’s not our home anymore. We’ve moved on.”
She tried to protest, but I gently ended the call. I sat there for a moment, the phone still in my hand, before Chris came up behind me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“You did the right thing,” he said, and I knew he was right. We’d built something new, something ours, and I wasn’t about to let the past drag us back.
Every now and then, we’d hear updates about Lisa and Mrs. Johnson. Apparently, the apartment was falling apart under Lisa’s careless hands, the beautiful renovations we’d done now just a memory buried under layers of dust and debris.
Mrs. Johnson, they said, was heartbroken—she’d lost not just a home, but the tenants who had cared for it.
And you know what? I found peace in that. Not in their suffering, but in the knowledge that we’d walked away with our dignity, our love, and our ability to start over.
Lisa had gained an apartment, but in the end, she’d lost so much more. Karma, it seemed, had its own way of delivering justice, and sometimes, you just had to let it run its course.
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