My Ex Took Our Door Handles in a Divorce Tantrum—Karma Struck Back

After our divorce, my ex-husband removed every door handle, claiming ownership. I let it go, and three days later, karma delivered a lesson that left him humbled. Rain blurred the window as I sipped cold tea, a far cry from the hopeful bride I’d been ten years ago. My kids, Sophie, 9, and Liam, 6, ran in. “Mom, Sophie took my truck!” Liam cried. “It’s mine!” Sophie argued. I knelt, adjusting Liam’s shirt. “Let’s share, okay?” Sophie frowned. “Dad never shares.” Her words cut deep. Mike had drifted, caring more for his things and friends than us, leaving our family fractured.

A black beanbag in a room | Source: Unsplash

After months of failed talks, I filed for divorce. Papers served, Mike began claiming “his” belongings. He stood in the doorway, stern. “I’m taking the lamp,” he said. “Fine,” I said, steady for the kids. “And the toaster. I paid for it.” I nodded. Liam’s voice shook. “Our play chairs?” Mike snapped, “I bought them.” I sent the kids upstairs, then faced him. “Those were their gifts.” He scoffed, “You broke us, Lisa.” I held back a laugh. “When did you last tuck them in?” He left without answering. That night, I comforted the kids, promising Mike’s love, hoping his move-out would bring peace.

Next morning, Mike was prying off door handles. “What’s this?” I asked. “I bought these,” he said, collecting handles from every door—front, back, basement—in a bucket. “This is petty,” I said. He grinned. “My stuff.” I could’ve fought, but his smugness stopped me. I stayed calm. “Take what you need,” I said. Later, the house felt lighter. The kids and I played games, laughing freely. Sophie asked, “Are we okay, Mom?” I smiled. “We’re better than ever.” Three days of peace passed until Mike called, panicked. “Lisa, I’m trapped.” I sat, intrigued. “Trapped how?”

At his mom’s pristine condo, he’d swapped her handles with ours to “help.” Rushing for an interview, he broke a key in the lock, stuck inside with sealed windows. “Any keys?” he asked. “You took them,” I said. His mom, Grace, was strict about her home. “She’ll lose it,” he said. I paused, sipping tea. “No spares,” I said. “Break a window?” he pleaded. “Nope,” I replied, suggesting an upstairs window and her trellis. “Sorry about the chairs,” he said. “Bring them back,” I said. Next day, the chairs appeared. Mike brought new handles, saying, “Fell in Mom’s roses, missed my interview.” I smiled. “Karma’s clever.” He saw the kids, who were cautious but warm. I learned love outweighs stuff, and letting go set us free.

 

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