Have you ever experienced something that made you truly believe in karma? It’s that notion that what goes around comes around. I was skeptical for a long time, thinking it was just a way to ease the pain when someone wrongs you. But I’ve come to learn, through personal experience, that karma can have a surprisingly playful side.

My ex-husband, Dan, and I shared eight years together. We built a home, cared for our two beautiful children, and formed what I thought was a strong partnership. But unfortunately, it seems I was the only one holding that belief.

The turning point arrived one night when our daughter, Emma, was unwell. As I searched for some children’s medicine in Dan’s drawer, I stumbled upon his phone. A notification caught my eye: a heart emoji accompanied by ‘I love you!’

Unable to resist, I opened the message and felt my heart shatter. There were numerous intimate texts between Dan and a woman named “Jessica.”

Confronting Dan was soul-crushing. His response was devoid of remorse. “These things happen,” he declared with eerie nonchalance. He seemed to disregard all the choices he had made, dismissing them as simple coincidences.

Even when I caught him a second time, his indifference was glaring. Holding a shirt stained with lipstick — one of my least favorite colors — I realized I couldn’t pretend anymore. This wasn’t just a mistake; it was a repeated choice.

My love for him slipped away as I demanded he pack his bags. I initiated our divorce swiftly, without entertaining any further excuses.

The divorce was predictably harsh, yet there was a small victory: the house remained mine, an inheritance from my grandmother. Dan couldn’t legally contest this.

However, Dan insisted on fairness for everything else, from groceries to furniture, splitting possessions to the penny. But when it came to our kids, Emma and Jack, he shocked me most. He casually opted out of joint custody, leaving the entire responsibility to me.

After finalizing the paperwork, Dan requested a week to sort his belongings out of the house. Taking the kids to my mom’s to avoid painful goodbyes, I ignored the gnawing questions about Dan’s absence from my children, offering reasurring platitudes about grown-ups needing time apart.

Upon returning home a week later with the kids, the disaster hit — the wallpaper was gone. The once vibrant floral patterns were stripped away, leaving raw drywall in its wake. Dan, indifferent to the devastation he was causing, was determined to have the wallpaper, shredding it from the walls.

My heart ached as I comforted Jack and Emma, who couldn’t understand why their father would take something so lovely from their home. I promised them that we’d choose something even better together.

Once the week was done, I returned to a gutted home. Dan had stripped away not only the wallpaper but also taken kitchen utensils and ordinary household goods, down to the last toilet roll.

I sought solace in a book club, which became a bright spot in my life. As I recounted the absurdity of Dan’s wallpaper theft, the room filled with laughter and camaraderie. They assured me I was well shot of him.

Months passed, and life was gaining equilibrium. However, Dan hinted at entering a new relationship, a point delivered with arrogance. I didn’t pay much mind until a chance encounter downtown shocked me to the core.

Walking hand-in-hand with a woman was Dan, and recognizing her jolted me — it was Cassie, my book club friend. As awkward introductions unfolded, realization dawned upon Cassie about Dan’s past behaviors, and she confronted him.

Cassie’s outrage was palpable, and she ended things then and there, leaving Dan bewildered and alone on the street. I walked away, sensing justice had played its course.

That night, as I tucked my children into bed, Jack expressed joy over the new dinosaur wallpaper in his room. He had moved on from the floral patterns, proving that change, be it traumatic or otherwise, can bring about something beautiful.

Raising kids solo wasn’t the path I’d envisioned, but together, we’d crafted a home where love and laughter thrived. And the lesson lingered: give karma time, and you might just witness it in action, exacting its own form of justice.