My Kids Listed My House on Airbnb While I Was in the Hospital — I Found a Way to Teach Them a Lesson
Mariah had been feeling less than healthy lately, causing her to admit herself into the hospital so that she could have a check-up. But in her absence, her children decided to rent out her house as an Airbnb, ready to pocket the money for themselves. When Mariah found out, she decided to teach her children a lesson.
“Mariah,” my friend Liz said on the phone, “why on earth is your house listed as an Airbnb?”
A phone opened to an Airbnb app | Source: Pexels
“What?” I asked, completely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Denise was looking for a house to rent for the weekend because it’s her bachelorette weekend, and she came across your house. Aren’t you still in the hospital?” she asked.
A group of women | Source: Midjourney
“Liz, I truly have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, looking at the IV drip away into my bloodstream. “Send me the link to the site Denise saw.”
This is how I taught my children a valuable lesson:
Recently, my blood pressure had been all over the place, causing me to faint at odd moments.
A close-up of an IV | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” my son, Liam, said, “you need to get it checked out. There’s no point in going to the pharmacy and getting medication over the counter just because you think it’s going to help. You need to get everything assessed properly.”
“And you need to start eating better,” Leah, my daughter, said. “Having oats in the morning, toast during the day, and soup at night isn’t a balanced diet. You’re playing with your health. It’s time to take things seriously.”
A counter at a pharmacy | Source: Midjourney
Leah moved around my kitchen, slicing vegetables to make a salad to go along with the grilled chicken she had been marinating.
“And what about your constant headaches? It’s time to get everything checked out. You should go into the hospital and do a full check-up,” Liam said.
A plate of grilled chicken and salad | Source: Midjourney
“But I feel fine, other than the headaches and dizziness; I’m good!” I retorted.
Both my kids snorted and rolled their eyes at me.
“Do it, Mom,” Leah said, pointing her finger at me.
A young woman pointing and smiling | Source: Midjourney
I had to agree with them. I had been downplaying my health lately. I still walked every second day and did as much yoga as my body would allow during the week.
But still, there was a nagging feeling that something could be wrong.
Women at a yoga class | Source: Midjourney
“Just go to silence that feeling,” Liz said when we met for smoothies after our yoga class one day.
“But what if we find something?” I asked, suddenly nervous to be speaking my thoughts out loud.
“Then, we’ll deal with it together. I know that Paul isn’t here anymore, but I’m here,” Liz said. “And anyway, we need you up and running for Denise’s wedding. I don’t know how to do the mother-of-the-bride things.”
A close-up of smoothies | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll go to the GP and take it from there,” I said. “If he thinks that it’s the way to go, then I’ll do just that.”
“Yes, Mariah,” the doctor said. “I think it’s a great idea for you to go for a full-body check-up. There’s nothing wrong with just knowing your health and body. And I’ll recommend a CT scan for your headaches, too.”
A doctor putting on gloves | Source: Pexels
Which is how I ended up at the hospital, and how my children chose to take advantage of the situation.
“I’ll bring your lunch soon,” the nurse said, smiling at me. “You just rest after your CT scan.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m just going to call my best friend and catch up with her.”
A smiling nurse holding a clipboard | Source: Midjourney
Catching up with Liz meant that hearing that my children had let my house out as an Airbnb for the week that I was scheduled to be in the hospital.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Liz asked me when I called her back after I confirmed that it was my house on the site.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I want to teach them a lesson. Leah and Liam should have known better. But Leah and her husband are always looking for ways to make extra money. I’m sure that Andrew has a gambling problem, too.”
“Tell me what you want me to do,” Liz said, chewing something into my ear.
A couple playing poker | Source: Pexels
“I want you to tell Denise to book it,” I said. “But they’ll recognize that it’s her, so she’s probably going to need to create a new account. Do you think she’ll be okay with that?”
“Of course, she will!” Liz said. “Anything for you. But then what?”
“I’m getting discharged tomorrow,” I said. “But the kids think that I’ll be here until the end of the week. So, let them think that they’re going to make some money off the place.”
A close-up of a woman’s IV and hospital band | Source: Midjourney
“You want Denise to rent the place, but you want to mess it up?” Liz chuckled. “That’s devious.”
“No, my children are devious,” I said.
I hung up the call, and the nurse brought my lunch to me, ready to leave me alone to eat while she did her rounds.
A tray of hospital food | Source: Midjourney
If I was being honest, I didn’t know how I felt about my children’s betrayal. But it hurt me to imagine that while I had been away at the hospital, my children were perfectly fine with having strangers take over my home.
“What were they thinking?” I asked myself.
They hadn’t given a second thought to people using the mugs I had hand-painted, or people sitting in their father’s worn armchair. Paul has been deceased for a few years now, but it still felt like his chair.
An armchair in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I said to myself. “I’m going to get back at these kids.”
The next morning, I was discharged with a clean bill of health, despite warnings to keep my stress down.
“And keep an eye on your cholesterol, Mariah,” my doctor said. “Eat lots of green leafy vegetables.”
Leafy vegetables on a countertop | Source: Midjourney
I drove myself to Liz’s house, where I was going to wait for Denise to meet me with the keys to my house.
“Are you sure about this?” Liz asked, making me a cup of tea and buttering a lemon and poppy seed muffin.
“Yes,” I said. “And this way, they’ll truly have to feel accountable for their actions.”
A cup of tea with a muffin | Source: Midjourney
I went home a few hours later. There was something different about the house. The smell was different, and I knew for sure that someone else had been staying there.
There was a sweet perfume scent that took over my usual woody-scented house.
I had a long shower, ready to wash away the scent of the hospital that clung to my skin. I was ready for a long sleep in my own bed.
A comfortable bed | Source: Midjourney
For tomorrow, the fun began.
The next morning, I made myself some breakfast and dutifully took the array of vitamins and supplements that the doctor had given me.
Then, I began to pack away all of my appliances.
Appliances in the trunk of a car | Source: Midjourney
“Where are you going to put everything?” Liz asked me when she came over.
“I’m going to put some into the trunk of my car, and we can hide the rest in the garage for now,” I said.
Together, Liz and I emptied out the house, leaving only the old toaster behind.
“Come on,” Liz said, linking her arm in mine. “Let’s get you out of here.”
An old toaster in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I waited until Friday, staying with Liz. And then I drove myself home that afternoon.
“Hi Mom!” Leah said excitedly when she saw me pull into the driveway.
“Hi, honey,” I said, taking out my bag from the backseat.
We walked into the house, and there were entirely new appliances all over my kitchen.
A kitchen with new appliances | Source: Midjourney
“What’s all this?” I asked, pretending to be shocked.
“Liam and I thought that you deserved new things!” Leah said, looking at the floor as she spoke.
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You came back to my home when your guest was supposed to check out and you found everything gone.”
Leah stared at me with her mouth open.
A shocked young woman | Source: Midjourney
“You know?” she said.
“Of course, I do!” I exclaimed. “I took everything! You needed to be taught a lesson. Why would you let my house out?”
Leah blinked slowly.
“Mom,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry. Andrew and I thought that it would be a good idea because it seemed like a great opportunity to make some extra money. Liam said that it was okay as long as nothing was broken.”
A close-up of a young woman | Source: Midjourney
“Darling,” I said, hugging her. “You can’t do this. If you and Andrew need money, you come and talk to me about it. Don’t do things like this. It’s going to ruin our trust.”
My daughter smiled and took my bag from me.
“Come,” she said. “I’ll make you some tea with the new kettle. I’ll return everything else tomorrow. And the money is all yours.”
A fancy kettle on a countertop | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
For 30 Years, My Father Made Me Believe I Was Adopted – I Was Shocked to Find Out Why
For thirty years, I believed I was adopted, abandoned by parents who couldn’t keep me. But a trip to the orphanage shattered everything I thought I knew.
I was three years old the first time my dad told me I was adopted. We were sitting on the couch, and I had just finished building a tower out of brightly colored blocks. I imagine he smiled at me, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
A girl playing with building blocks | Source: Pexels
“Sweetheart,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s something you should know.”
I looked up, clutching my favorite stuffed rabbit. “What is it, Daddy?”
“Your real parents couldn’t take care of you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “So your mom and I stepped in. We adopted you to give you a better life.”
“Real parents?” I asked, tilting my head.
A man playing with his daughter | Source: Pexels
He nodded. “Yes. But they loved you very much, even if they couldn’t keep you.”
I didn’t understand much, but the word “love” made me feel safe. “So you’re my daddy now?”
“That’s right,” he said. Then he hugged me, and I nestled into his chest, feeling like I belonged.
A man hugging his daughter | Source: Pexels
Six months later, my mom died in a car accident. I don’t remember much about her—just a blurry image of her smile, soft and warm, like sunshine on a chilly day. After that, it was just me and my dad.
At first, things weren’t so bad. Dad took care of me. He made peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and let me watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. But as I grew older, things started to change.
A man feeding his daughter | Source: Pexels
When I was six, I couldn’t figure out how to tie my shoes. I cried, frustrated, as I tugged at the laces.
Dad sighed loudly. “Maybe you got that stubbornness from your real parents,” he muttered under his breath.
“Stubborn?” I asked, blinking up at him.
“Just… figure it out,” he said, walking away.
A girl crying | Source: Pexels
He said things like that a lot. Anytime I struggled with school or made a mistake, he’d blame it on my “real parents.”
When I turned six, Dad hosted a barbecue in our backyard. I was excited because all the neighborhood kids were coming. I wanted to show them my new bike.
As the adults stood around talking and laughing, Dad raised his glass and said, “You know, we adopted her. Her real parents couldn’t handle the responsibility.”
A man talking to his family at a barbecue | Source: Midjourney
The laughter faded. I froze, holding my plate of chips.
One of the moms asked, “Oh, really? How sad.”
Dad nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, but she’s lucky we took her in.”
The words sank like stones in my chest. The next day at school, the other kids whispered about me.
Two girls whispering | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t your real parents want you?” one boy sneered.
“Are you gonna get sent back?” a girl giggled.
I ran home crying, hoping Dad would comfort me. But when I told him, he shrugged. “Kids will be kids,” he said. “You’ll get over it.”
A man shrugging | Source: Pexels
On my birthdays, Dad started taking me to visit a local orphanage. He’d park outside the building, point to the kids playing in the yard, and say, “See how lucky you are? They don’t have anyone.”
By the time I was a teenager, I dreaded my birthday.
A sad girl in her room | Source: Pexels
The idea that I wasn’t wanted followed me everywhere. In high school, I kept my head down and worked hard, hoping to prove I was worth keeping. But no matter what I did, I always felt like I wasn’t enough.
When I was 16, I finally asked Dad about my adoption.
A girl talking to her father | Source: Midjourney
“Can I see the papers?” I asked one night as we ate dinner.
He frowned, then left the table. A few minutes later, he came back with a folder. Inside, there was a single page—a certificate with my name, a date, and a seal.
“See? Proof,” he said, tapping the paper.
I stared at it, unsure of what to feel. It looked real enough, but something about it felt… incomplete.
A girl looking at documents in her hands | Source: Midjourney
Still, I didn’t ask any more questions.
Years later, when I met Matt, he saw through my walls right away.
“You don’t talk about your family much,” he said one night as we sat on the couch.
I shrugged. “There’s not much to say.”
A young couple watching TV together | Source: Pexels
But he didn’t let it go. Over time, I told him everything—the adoption, the teasing, the orphanage visits, and how I always felt like I didn’t belong.
“Have you ever thought about looking into your past?” he asked gently.
“No,” I said quickly. “Why would I? My dad already told me everything.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice kind but steady. “What if there’s more to the story? Wouldn’t you want to know?”
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
I hesitated, my heart pounding. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Then let’s find out together,” he said, squeezing my hand.
For the first time, I considered it. What if there was more?
A woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
The orphanage was smaller than I had imagined. Its brick walls were faded, and the playground equipment out front looked worn but still cared for. My palms were clammy as Matt parked the car.
“You ready?” he asked, turning to me with his steady, reassuring gaze.
“Not really,” I admitted, clutching my bag like a lifeline. “But I guess I have to be.”
A couple talking in a car | Source: Midjourney
We stepped inside, and the air smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and something sweet, like cookies. A woman with short gray hair and kind eyes greeted us from behind a wooden desk.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked, her smile warm.
I swallowed hard. “I… I was adopted from here when I was three years old. I’m trying to find more information about my biological parents.”
A woman standing at a desk in an orphanage | Source: Midjourney
“Of course,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “What’s your name and the date of your adoption?”
I gave her the details my dad had told me. She nodded and began typing into an old computer. The clacking of the keys seemed to echo in the quiet room.
Minutes passed. Her frown deepened. She tried again, flipping through a thick binder.
A woman looking through documents | Source: Pexels
Finally, she looked up, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any records of you here. Are you sure this is the right orphanage?”
My stomach dropped. “What? But… this is where my dad said I was adopted from. I’ve been told that my whole life.”
Matt leaned forward and peeked into the papers. “Could there be a mistake? Maybe another orphanage in the area?”
A man looking through the documents | Source: Midjourney
She shook her head. “We keep very detailed records. If you were here, we would know. I’m so sorry.”
The room spun as her words sank in. My whole life suddenly felt like a lie.
The car ride home was heavy with silence. I stared out the window, my thoughts racing.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked softly, glancing at me.
A serious woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “I need answers.”
“We’ll get them,” he said firmly. “Let’s talk to your dad. He owes you the truth.”
When we pulled up to my dad’s house, my heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else. The porch light flickered as I knocked.
It took a moment, but the door opened. My dad stood there in his old plaid shirt, his face creased with surprise.
A man in a plaid shirt | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” he said, his voice cautious. “What are you doing here?”
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We went to the orphanage,” I blurted out. “They don’t have any record of me. Why would they say that?”
His expression froze. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed heavily and stepped back. “Come in.”
A man talking to his daughter | Source: Midjourney
Matt and I followed him into the living room. He sank into his recliner, running a hand through his thinning hair.
“I knew this day would come,” he said quietly.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Why did you lie to me?”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
He looked at the floor, his face shadowed with regret. “You weren’t adopted,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’re your mother’s child… but not mine. She had an affair.”
The words hit me like a punch. “What?”
A sad middle-aged man | Source: Midjourney
“She cheated on me,” he said, his voice bitter. “When she got pregnant, she begged me to stay. I agreed, but I couldn’t look at you without seeing what she did to me. So I made up the adoption story.”
My hands trembled. “You lied to me for my entire life? Why would you do that?”
A confused shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I don’t know,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I was angry. Hurt. I thought… maybe if you believed you weren’t mine, it would be easier for me to handle. Maybe I wouldn’t hate her so much. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
I blinked back tears, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You faked the papers?”
He nodded slowly. “I had a friend who worked in records. He owed me a favor. It wasn’t hard to make it look real.”
A sad man looking at his hands | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t breathe. The teasing, the orphanage visits, the comments about my “real parents” wasn’t about me at all. It was his way of dealing with his pain.
“I was just a kid,” I whispered. “I didn’t deserve this.”
“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I failed you.”
A sad woman sitting in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I stood up, my legs shaky. “I can’t do this right now. Be sure that I will take care of you when the time comes. But I can’t stay,” I said, turning to Matt. “Let’s go.”
Matt nodded, his jaw tight as he glared at my father. “You’re coming with me,” he said softly.
As we walked out the door, my dad called after me. “I’m sorry! I really am!”
But I didn’t turn around.
A sad grieving woman | Source: Pexels
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.
Leave a Reply