When my wealthy neighbor deemed my cherished old sedan an “eyesore,” he took matters into his own hands and froze my car solid overnight. But that same night, karma taught him a harsh lesson.
I never thought I’d end up in a neighborhood where every driveway sports at least one shiny German import and landscapers show up like clockwork every Thursday morning.
Houses in a nice neighborhood | Source: Midjourney
But here I was, thanks to my company’s corporate housing program, feeling like the poster child for imposter syndrome with my dad’s beat-up 1989 sedan.
That car was everything to me. Every ding and scratch told a story, like the small dent in the rear bumper from when Dad taught me to parallel park, or the tiny crack in the dashboard where he used to tap his fingers along to Johnny Cash.
After Dad passed, keeping that car running became my way of keeping his memory alive.
An old sedan | Source: Pexels
I was out there one crisp fall morning, giving the old girl her weekly wash, when I heard the crunch of expensive shoes on fallen leaves.
“Excuse me, miss” The voice dripped with the kind of entitled condescension you can only perfect through years of country club memberships.
I turned around, soap suds dripping from my hands, to find my neighbor Tom, looking like he’d just stepped out of a catalog for overpriced golf wear. His perfectly styled hair didn’t move an inch in the morning breeze.
A man with a stern expression | Source: Midjourney
“You can call me Lila.” I kept scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bird dropping.
“Right.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Look, I need to talk to you about this…” He gestured at my car with obvious distaste, his signet ring catching the morning light. “This vehicle situation.”
I straightened up, crossing my arms. “Vehicle situation?”
“It’s an eyesore.” He didn’t even try to soften the blow.
A man pointing his finger | Source: Midjourney
“People move to this neighborhood for a certain… aesthetic and quality of life. And your car, well, it’s destroying property values. Not to mention the environmental impact — do you have any idea what kind of pollutants that ancient engine is spewing? My children play outside!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The sound echoed off the perfectly maintained facades of our matching houses.
“Your kids play outside? Since when? The only time I see them is when they’re being shuttled between your house and your massive SUV. Which, by the way, probably burns more fuel in a week than my car does in a month.”
A woman talking to someone | Source: Midjourney
His face reddened, the color creeping up from his starched collar. “That’s not the point. The point is that you need to get rid of this junk heap. It doesn’t belong here, and frankly—” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “—neither do you.”
“Oh, really?” I cocked my head, feeling my father’s stubborn streak rising in me. The same stubbornness that had helped him build his auto repair shop from nothing. “Are you offering to buy me a new car?”
“Of course not, but if you don’t get rid of it within a week,” he said, jaw clenched, “I’ll make sure you have to replace it. This isn’t the kind of neighborhood where we tolerate… diminishing standards.”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
I waved my soapy sponge at him, sending a spray of bubbles his way. He jumped back like I’d thrown acid. “Was that a threat, Tom? Because it sounded an awful lot like a threat.”
He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving me wondering what kind of person actually talks like that in real life.
I finished washing my old car and went inside. I didn’t think much about the conversation until a week later when I found out exactly what kind of person Tom was.
A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
The morning air bit at my face as I stepped outside, travel mug of coffee in hand, ready for work. The sunrise was painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, but I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly dropping my coffee.
My car was completely encased in ice; thick, clear ice that looked nothing like natural frost.
It was as if someone had spent hours spraying it with a hose in the freezing night air.
A car covered in ice | Source: Midjourney
The morning light refracted through the frozen shell, creating tiny rainbows that would have been beautiful if they weren’t so infuriating.
“Careful,” came Tom’s voice from his porch next door. He was lounging in an Adirondack chair, sipping his morning coffee with a smile that made me want to throw something. His breath made little clouds in the cold air. “Looks like it’s raining every night! Hope you’ve got a good scraper.”
I stormed over to his porch, my boots leaving angry prints on his perfect lawn. “Are you serious right now? This is how you handle things? What are you, twelve?”
A woman gesturing to her frozen car | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” His smug smile never wavered. “Mother Nature can be so unpredictable. Especially in this neighborhood.”
“Mother Nature doesn’t target single cars, Tom.” My hands were shaking with anger. “This is harassment. And pretty childish harassment at that.”
“Prove it.” He took another sip of coffee, the steam curling around his face like a villain’s smokescreen. “Or better yet, take the hint and get rid of that heap, or move. I’m sure there’s a nice apartment complex somewhere that would be more… suitable for your situation.”
A smirking man | Source: Midjourney
I spent the next three hours chipping away at the ice, my hands going numb despite my gloves. The whole time, I plotted elaborate revenge scenarios, each more ridiculous than the last.
But Dad’s voice echoed in my memory: “The best revenge is living well, kiddo. And keeping your hands clean means you never have to look over your shoulder.”
That night, a strange whooshing sound jolted me awake. At first, I thought it was just the wind, but there was something different about it, something almost musical… like water.
A woman in bed | Source: Pexels
I rushed to my window, half-expecting to catch Tom creating another ice sculpture out of my car. Instead, I burst out laughing.
A fire hydrant at the edge of Tom’s property had exploded, sending a powerful jet of water directly at his house. In the freezing night air, the water was turning to ice on contact, slowly encasing his perfect home and his precious German SUV in a thick crystal shell.
The streetlights caught each frozen droplet, turning his property into a bizarre winter wonderland.
Water spraying from a damaged fire hydrant | Source: Midjourney
By morning, half the neighborhood had gathered to gawk at the spectacle. Some were taking photos with their phones, others whispering behind their hands.
Tom stood in his driveway, attacking the ice with a tiny garden shovel, looking absolutely miserable in his designer winter coat. His perfectly styled hair was finally out of place, plastered to his forehead with sweat despite the cold.
I watched him struggle for a few minutes before sighing heavily. Dad would’ve known what to do.
A woman with a resigned look on her face | Source: Midjourney
He always said that kindness costs nothing but means everything. I grabbed my heavy-duty ice scraper and walked over.
“Want some help?” I asked, trying not to sound too amused. “I’ve got some experience with this sort of thing.”
Tom looked up, surprised and suspicious. His face was red from exertion, his breath coming in short puffs. “Why would you help me? After everything?”
I shrugged and started scraping. “Guess I’m just a better neighbor than you.”
A woman holding an ice scraper | Source: Midjourney
We worked in silence for hours, gradually freeing his car and clearing a path to his front door. By the time we finished, the sun was setting, and we were both exhausted.
The next morning, there was a knock at my door. Tom stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, making his expensive shoes creak.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I was a jerk. You didn’t have to help me yesterday, but you did.” He thrust an envelope at me. “This is to thank you… and to make amends.”
A woman holding an envelope | Source: Pexels
Inside was $5,000 in hundred-dollar bills. I stared at it, then at him, the paper crisp between my fingers.
“It’s for your car,” he explained quickly. “Get it fixed up — or get a new one if you’d prefer. Consider it a peace offering. And… I’m sorry about what I said. About you not belonging here.”
I looked at the money, then at my dad’s old sedan sitting in the driveway.
“Thanks, Tom,” I said, tucking the envelope into my pocket. “I think I know exactly what I’m going to do with this.”
A woman with her hand in her pocket | Source: Midjourney
A week later, my old sedan was sporting a fresh coat of paint, new tires, and a completely rebuilt engine. It stood out even more now as a perfectly restored classic in a sea of modern luxury vehicles.
Every time I caught Tom looking at it, I made sure to rev the engine extra loud. Sometimes he’d even give me a grudging nod of appreciation.
Sometimes the best revenge isn’t revenge at all.
A woman driving a classic car | Source: Pexels
Dad always said that class isn’t about what you own — it’s about how you treat people, even the ones who don’t deserve it.
Here’s another story: When sleep-deprived mom Genevieve discovers her car covered in eggs, she thinks it’s a prank — until her smug neighbor Brad admits he did it because her car was ruining the view of his elaborate Halloween display. Furious but too exhausted to argue, Genevieve vows to teach him a lesson.
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.
A husband, after spending 17 years in marriage with Inna, decided to leave her for a young student, but he did not expect that his wife would give him a farewell
Inna stood by the window, watching as raindrops distributed the glass, forming whimsical patterns. Seventeen years – is that a lot or a little? She remembered every day of their marriage, every anniversary, every gifts. And now everything becomes collapsed.
“We need to talk,” Alexey said.
“I’m leaving, Inna. To Natasha.”
Silence. Only the ticking of the old wall clock, once gifted by his mother, broke the calmness of the room.
“To the student from your faculty?” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.
“Yes. Understand, my feelings have changed. I want new emotions, fresh impressions. You’re a smart woman, you should understand.”
Inna smiled.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Alexey said. “I’ve already packed my things.”
Then she approached the cupboard and recovered that special bottle they had kept for a special occasion.
“Well, I suppose this is a rather special moment,” she began to open the bottle. “You know, I propose we have a farewell dinner. Invite your friends, your relatives. After all, seventeen years is no joke.”
Alexey surprisingly said:
“You… you want to throw a party for our divorce?”
“Why not?” Inna smiled. “Let’s send our life together off in style. After all, I really am a smart woman, remember?”
She began to send messages to relatives and friends.
“Tomorrow at seven in the evening. I’ll prepare your favorite dishes. Consider it my farewell gift.”
Alexey stood there, not knowing what to say. He had predicted tears, nervousness, reproaches – anything but this calm acceptance.
“And yes, tell Natasha that she’s invited too. I want to meet the girl who managed to do what I couldn’t all these years – ignite a new spark in you.”
The next day began awfully early for Inna.
She carefully called banks, met with a lawyer, and prepared documents. Every action was prapared.
By the evening, their spacious apartment was full of the aromas of exquisite dishes. Inna set the table, organizing the finest dinnerware – a wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
“Everything must be perfect,” she muttered.
His mother, Vera Pavlovna, awkwardly grasped her daughter-in-law:
“Innochka, maybe there’s still a chance to change everything?”
“No, Mama. Sometimes you have to make the right choice and let go.”
Gradually, their friends started arriving.
“Come in, have a seat,” Inna directed them to the head of the table. “Tonight, you are the main characters of the evening.”
Once everyone was seated, Inna stood up, holding a glass:
“Dear friends! Today is a special day. We are gathered here to celebrate the end of one story and the beginning of another.”
She turned to Alexey:
“Lesha, I want to thank you for seventeen years together. For all the ups and downs, for the joys and sorrows we shared. You taught me many things. For example, that love can be very different.”
An awkwardwhisper ran through the room. Natasha played with a napkin, avoiding eye contact.
“And you also taught me to be attentive to details,” Inna continued. “Especially financial ones.”
She began laying out documents:
“Here’s the loan for your car, taken out on our joint account. Here are the tax arrears for your company. And this – particularly interesting – are the receipts from restaurants and jewelry stores over the past year. I suppose you were trying to impress Natasha?”
Alexey became pallid. Natasha abruptly lifted her head.
“But the most important thing,” Inna said as she retrieved the final document, “is our prenuptial agreement. Remember, you signed it without reading? There’s an interesting clause about dividing property in case of infidelity.”
The silence in the room became booming.
“The house is in my name,” Inna continued. “I’ve already blocked the accounts. And the divorce petition was filed last night.”
She turned to Natasha:
“Dear, are you sure you’re ready to tie your life to someone who has neither a home nor savings, but instead has considerable debts?”
“Excuse me, I need to leave,” Natasha said softly.
Vera Pavlovna refused:
“Lesha, how could you? We raised you differently.”
“Mama, you don’t understand…” Alexey began, but was disturbed by his father:
“No, son, you don’t understand. Seventeen years is no joke. And what did you destr0y it all for? For an af:fair with a student?”
The friends at the table remained soundless, avoiding each other’s gaze. Only Mikhail, Alexey’s best friend since school, quietly said loud:
“Lesha, you really screwed up.”
Inna continued standing, holding her glass.
“You know what’s the most interesting? All these years I believed that our love was unique. That we were like those old couples from beautiful stories who stayed together until the end. I turned a blind eye to your work delays, your strange phone calls, your new ties and shirts.”
She took a sip:
“And then I started spotting the receipts. Jewelry store, restaurant ‘White Swan’, spa salon… Funny, isn’t it? You were taking her to the same places where you once took me.”
Natasha returned but did not sit at the table. She stood in the doorway, clutching her purse:
“Alexey Nikolaevich, I think we need to talk. Alone.”
“Of course, dear,” he got up, but Inna stopped him with a gesture:
“Wait. I’m not finished yet. Remember our first apartment? That one-bedroom on the outskirts? We were so happy there. You said we needed nothing but each other.”
She smiled:
“And now look at you. Expensive suits, a fancy car, a young mistress… Only, here’s the catch – all of it was built on lies and debts.”
Natasha’s voice trembled, “you said we were divorced. That we lived separately. That you were going to buy us an apartment.”
“Natashenka, I’ll explain everything.”
A ringing silence tumbled the room.
Without saying a word, Natasha turned and ran out of the apartment. T
“Inna,” Alexey clutched his head, “why are you doing this?”
“Why?” she laughed.“How did you expect it to be? For me to cry, beg you to stay? To roll around at your feet?”
She scanned the room:
“You know what’s the most amusing? I truly loved him. Every wrinkle, every gray hair. Even his snoring at night seemed endearing to me. I was ready to grow old with him, to raise grandchildren.”
“Dear,” Vera Pavlovna whispered, “maybe it’s not worth it.”
“No, Mama, it is,” Inna raised her voice for the first time that evening. “Let everyone know. Let them know how your son took out loans for gifts for his mistresses. How he used our shared money. How he lied to me, to you, to everyone!”
She published another document:
“And this is especially interesting. Remember, Lesha, three months ago you asked me to sign some papers? You said it was for the tax office? It turned out to be a guarantee for a loan. You mortgaged my car, can you believe it?”
“Son,” Alexey’s father said heavily as he rose, “we’ll probably leave too. Call when… when you come to your senses.”
Vera Pavlovna grasped Inna:
“Forgive us, dear. We never thought he…”
“Don’t apologize, Mama. You have nothing to do with this.”
Alexey sat there. His expensive suit now seemed like a silly masquerade costume.
“You know, I could have done a month ago when I found out everything. I could have bought your car, torn up your suits, had a meltdown at your workplace.” Inna said.
“But I decided to do it differently,” she said.
“I’m flying out tomorrow. The Maldives, can you imagine? I’ve always dreamed of visiting there, but you always said it was a waste of money.”
She put the keys on the table:
“The apartment must be bought by the end of the week. I’m selling it. And yes, don’t even try to withdraw money from the accounts.”
Alexey looked at her with a sad expression:
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“That’s no longer my problem,” she said
“You know what’s the funniest part? I’m truly grateful to you. You made me wake up, shake off the dust. I suddenly realized that life doesn’t end with you.”
She walked to the door and turned around one last time:
“Goodbye, Lesha. I hope it was worth it.”
The door closed quietly. Alexey was left alone in the hollow apartment. Inna began a new trip which marked a first step of her new life.
Leave a Reply