Hey everyone, I didn’t expect to be sharing this, but after what happened last week, I just had to. I’m Audrey, a 25-year-old woman who was forced to take matters into my own hands when circumstances called for it. Stick around because you won’t want to miss this story!
For context, my mom is one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet. She used to have a great job, but unfortunately, she had to quit due to cancer treatment.
A cancer patient | Source: Midjourney
Even though she’s in remission now, she needed to find work quickly to help with the bills, so she got a job as a waitress at a local café. She never complains and always wears a smile, even on her toughest days.
Growing up, it was just Mom and me against the world. We’ve always been close, sharing everything from our favorite books to late-night movie marathons.
Her strength and positivity are contagious, and I can’t imagine having a better role model. Seeing her struggle but never lose her spirit has been both heartbreaking and inspiring.
A smiling mother-daughter duo | Source: Midjourney
Enter the entitled woman, Karen. She started coming to the café every day, making snide comments and belittling my mom for no reason. Here are a few examples of her nastiness:
One day, during my lunch break, I decided to visit Mom at the café. I found her serving Karen, who was, unsurprisingly, in full diva mode.
“Excuse me,” Karen called out loudly, waving her hand dramatically as if summoning a servant. “I dropped my napkin. Be a dear and get me another one.”
An entitled woman having coffee in a café | Source: Freepik
Mom, always patient, smiled and retrieved a fresh napkin, handing it to Karen with grace. But Karen wasn’t done.
“Marilyn, is it?” Karen eyed my mom’s name tag on her uniform. “Next time, try not to be so slow. I don’t have all day,” she sneered, her voice dripping with condescension.
I clenched my fists under the table, but Mom just nodded, still smiling. “Of course, ma’am. Is there anything else you need?”
Karen ignored her, turning to her phone with a dismissive wave.
A woman checking her phone while sitting in a café | Source: Midjourney
Another time, I was there when Karen decided to criticize every little thing about the service. “This coffee is too hot!” she snapped. “And this pastry is cold. Did you even bother to check? And look at this table! It’s filthy!”
Mom apologized, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll get you a fresh pastry and clean the table right away.”
“Oh, and those flowers!” Karen continued. “They’re wilting. If you can’t keep fresh ones here, maybe you should bring some from your own garden.”
Mom’s face fell slightly, but she simply said, “I’ll see what I can do, ma’am.”
A vase with dried roses on a wooden table | Source: Pexels
The worst was when Karen made it personal. One afternoon, she looked Mom up and down and said loudly to a friend, “It’s such a shame when people don’t take care of themselves. Look at her, she looks exhausted all the time. I guess some people just aren’t cut out for success.”
Mom, being the angel she is, never wanted to complain or make a scene. But last week, things went too far.
A woman working as a waitress in a café | Source: Midjourney
Mom came home in tears, her uniform stained with coffee. It turned out Karen had thrown her coffee at my mom, claiming it was too cold. It broke my heart to see her like that.
“What happened?” I asked, gently wiping her tears.
“It’s nothing, Audrey. Just a bad day at work,” she tried to dismiss it, but I could see the pain in her eyes.
“Mom, please tell me,” I insisted.
She sighed. “Karen. She threw her coffee at me because it wasn’t hot enough. I tried to apologize, but she just screamed at me and stormed out.”
A waitress with coffee stains on her dress | Source: Midjourney
“Why does she hate you so much? What’s her problem?” I asked, my voice laced with both anger and concern.
“This isn’t just about a customer being mean to a waitress, Audrey. This goes way back,” Mom hesitated, then finally admitted, “Karen is a former classmate. She’s held a grudge against me ever since your father chose me over her back in the day.”
“That’s it!” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “I’m not letting her get away with this!”
“Audrey, please. I’ll handle it,” said my mom. Her tone was convincing, filled with pure love and concern for me.
A closeup shot of a pair of intertwined hands | Source: Pexels
I shook my head, trying not to worry my mom too much. But as we hugged, my mind immediately started plotting how to teach Karen a lesson she would never forget.
Having established that enough was enough, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Finding Karen online was easy peasy. A little stalking of her social media accounts revealed she was obsessed with her image. She bragged about her lavish lifestyle and her pristine appearance.
A woman using her laptop in bed | Source: Pexels
After doing my research, I concocted a brilliant plan. First, I set up a fake Instagram account, posing as a high-end beauty influencer, Lila Sanders. With a few paid followers and some bought engagement, the account was as good as real.
Then came the next step. I started interacting with Karen’s posts, complimenting her and gradually getting her to trust the fake account.
After a week of friendly exchanges, I sent her a message about an exclusive, invite-only beauty event happening in town, claiming I had an extra VIP ticket.
A young woman smiling while using her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Hi, Karen!
I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been loving your recent posts – your style is just impeccable!
I’m reaching out because I have an extra VIP ticket to an exclusive, invite-only beauty event happening in town next week. It’s going to be a fantastic opportunity to network and enjoy some luxurious pampering. I thought you might be interested since you have such a passion for beauty and fashion.
Let me know if you’d like to join!
Best, Lila Sanders”
A happy woman using her smartphone | Source: Pexels
Karen jumped at the chance. “Oh my God, that sounds amazing! I’d love to go!” she texted back, her excitement practically jumping off the screen.
“The event’s at the Grand Hotel,” I told her. “The dress code is really strict, so make sure you look your best.”
She replied right away. “Absolutely! I can’t wait! Thanks so much for the invite!”
I smiled to myself, knowing that soon, Karen would regret ever messing with my mom.
A young woman smiling while holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
Karen showed up dressed to the nines, a smug smile on her face as she strutted into the hotel lobby. I watched from a distance as she approached the front desk, her confident demeanor slowly morphing into confusion.
The hotel manager, Mr. Daniels, was already waiting, looking rather displeased. I had called ahead, pretending to be Karen, and canceled her actual reservation for a spa day she had planned, explaining she was very ill and couldn’t make it.
“What do you mean my reservation is canceled?” Karen’s voice rose, attracting the attention of nearby guests. “I didn’t cancel anything!”
A very shocked and upset woman in an expensive dress | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Daniels shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the reservation was canceled by someone claiming to be you. We’ve already charged the cancellation fee and other costs.”
Karen’s face turned bright red as she tried to explain herself. “This is ridiculous! I demand a refund!”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Mr. Daniels said firmly. “We had everything ready for your visit, and now it’s too late to rebook.”
A hotel manager | Source: Midjourney
Flustered and embarrassed, Karen had no choice but to pay up, drawing curious and judgmental looks from the other guests. I could see her eyes darting around, trying to avoid the stares as she fumbled for her credit card.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself. But I wasn’t done yet. Remember the fake beauty event? I had arranged for a delivery of cheap, sticky, glittery “beauty products” to be sent to Karen’s address, all packed in what looked like high-end packaging.
A woman holding a nicely-wrapped box | Source: Pexels
As I watched Karen leave the hotel, I imagined the scene unfolding at her home.
When Karen finally got home, she found the delivery waiting for her. Excited, she opened the packages, only to have glitter and sticky goo explode all over her expensive outfit and pristine living room.
“What the—?” she screamed, frantically trying to brush off the glitter that stuck to everything it touched. The mess was nearly impossible to clean up, and I knew it would take days to fully get rid of.
A mess caused by cheap, sticky, and glittery products spilled on the floor | Source: Midjourney
Karen’s social media posts took a nosedive as she frantically tried to salvage her image. Her once-perfect photos now showed a frazzled woman desperately trying to maintain her facade. She even had to take a break from her daily café visits, much to my mom’s relief.
But the final blow came when I decided to confront Karen directly. I walked into the café during one of her usual visits and calmly approached her table.
A woman in a café | Source: Midjourney
“Karen,” I began, my voice steady. “I know exactly who you are and what you’ve been doing. You think humiliating my mom makes you superior, but it only reveals your insecurities and bitterness. My mom survived cancer and continues to work hard every day, while you cling to petty grudges from high school. It’s time to grow up and move on because your actions are pathetic, and you’re only embarrassing yourself.”
An upset young woman talking to an older woman in a café | Source: Midjourney
Karen’s face turned beet red, and she was completely speechless. The other customers in the café, who had overheard our conversation, stared at her in silent judgment. She quickly gathered her things and left, her head bowed in shame. I haven’t seen her in the café since.
When my mom found out what I had done, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about the deceit. “Audrey, I appreciate you standing up for me, but was all that really necessary?” she asked, a blend of concern and amusement in her voice.
A woman talking to her daughter outside | Source: Pexels
“Mom, you’ve always been there for me, making endless sacrifices to ensure my happiness. This was nothing compared to what you’ve done for me,” I replied, squeezing her hand.
She sighed but couldn’t help smiling a little. “Justice in the most glittery, sticky way possible, huh?”
“Exactly,” I grinned. “Karen needed a taste of her own medicine.”
So Karen, if you happen to see this, I hope you reconsider before lashing out at someone who only wants to brighten your day. And Mom, you truly are the strongest person I know.
A happy mother-daughter duo holding coffee cups | Source: Pexels
What would you have done differently if you were in my shoes?
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?
Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.
I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.
At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.
Here’s how it all went down.
My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.
Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
Then came Monica, about three years ago.
At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.
Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.
A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.
Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”
“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.
At least, that’s what I thought.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.
A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney
She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.
“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.
I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.
I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
A funerary urn.
You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.
I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.
A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.
“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?”
Monica’s grin widened.
A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.
“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”
A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney
She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.
I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?
“How could you do this?” I whispered.
Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.
A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.
Wow.
That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.
I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.
An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.
The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.
I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.
A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney
At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.
“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”
“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.
Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney
But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.
I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.
But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.
Against my better judgment, I decided to go.
A note on a table | Source: Midjourney
When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.
I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.
I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.
The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney
I just stared at them, completely lost.
“What is this?”
Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.
Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah
I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.
A hair salon | Source: Midjourney
“What… what is this?”
Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.
“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”
I couldn’t breathe.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.
Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.
“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”
A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
I stared at her, speechless.
My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”
“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know what to say.
Or what to think.
Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.
Monica laughed softly.
“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.
She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.
A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney
And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.
And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.
What would you have done?
Peace lilies planted into a pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Transferred $24K to My Daughter for Her College Tuition, Only to Discover She Never Enrolled — What She Spent It On Made Me Pale
Caroline had been saving for her daughter’s college fund since Angela was born. But after a classmate of Angela’s reveals that Angela is not actually enrolled in college, Caroline must uncover what her daughter is doing and what she used the money for.
Children are always going to break your heart. This was something that I learned the hard way after trusting my daughter, Angela, completely.
A close-up of a smiling girl | Source: Midjourney
Since Angela was born, I have been saving for college. I needed to know that irrespective of what life threw my way, I would be able to educate my child.
“I think you can wait until she’s a little older,” my husband, Holden, said. “We can do it together.”
“You can add to her college fund later,” I said, looking at my baby girl. “But I’m going to start from next month. I wasn’t able to study, Holden. And it was because we didn’t have the opportunity to do so. Angela is going to get that opportunity.”
A smiling baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, Caroline,” my husband said. “You start it now, and I’ll add to it in a year. The house will be paid off, and I’ll be able to put that money into the fund.”
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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