We had just settled into our dream home when curiosity turned to betrayal. Our new neighbors—Pamela and Robert—started loitering in our yard, peering into our windows and complimenting our garden. Their friendly facade felt off, but we didn’t suspect the trap they were setting.
Then came a frantic call from our landlord—Pamela claimed the house reeked of fish and rotting trash, demanding we fix the mess or risk eviction. My heart raced, but I remained calm. “I’m so sorry,” I lied smoothly. “We packed fast and must’ve missed something.” Click. I hung up. Pamela—frantic and furious—was left holding the bag as we smiled and shrugged.
Groggy from their own scheme, they never saw our small victory coming. We unpacked in peace, coffee warm in our hands, while karma quietly closed the door on their plan. “Well,” I murmured, “they got what they wanted,” and I meant it—in the most satisfying way.
Behind the tranquility of our move-in lay a lesson: assumptions make the best revenge. And yes—we basked in every ironic drop of it.
