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My ex-husband’s petty revenge backfired spectacularly when I came home to see my furniture for sale.

Gina spends the weekend with her parents after she and Brendan break up. However, she returns to discover her possessions scattered across the lawn. Gina finds her ex-husband’s priceless item by chance. Read on for her retaliation…

Brendan, my spouse, changed suddenly after we divorced. The man I spent years with was gone.

His replacement was nasty and spiteful.

“You’re criticizing my behavior? About my speech? Brendan shouted.

I’m only saying you should relax when chatting to me. Screaming won’t help you communicate, I said, holding my head.

“Oh, please, Gina,” he yelled. “You shaped me! All your foolish demands and whining. Please live your life.”

So I did.

While the divorce was pending, Brendan and I organized our belongings to start over.

Brendan said, “Just let me pack these things up, Gina,” while searching through my bookshelf.

I replied, “You’ll just take my things with you. “I have to settle my own things first.”

“Suit yourself,” he said.

It only got worse. I was always queasy from the emotional rollercoaster. I planned to spend the weekend with my folks to clear my thoughts.

“Yeah, run away to your parents,” Brendan snidely muttered as I packed an overnight bag.

“They’re better than you,” I left.

And honestly? The choice was right. I needed time to comprehend everything, even being alone for the first time in twelve years. Even though Brendan and I needed to be apart, I couldn’t see my future.

I also wanted my parents to babysit me all weekend.

“Oh, Gina,” my mother remarked, bringing out a dish of exquisite roast lamb. “Just eat and rest. Tell me what you want to eat and I’ll create it. Just tell Dad what you want from the store. He’ll run for you quickly.”

Slow exhalation. Just where I needed to be.

“Are you sure a divorce is the way to go?” my father questioned over dinner.

“Yes,” I said sad. “If reconciliation was possible, it was long ago. We certainly missed it. Brendan and I no longer agree. I doubt love remains.”

“You do what you need to do, baby,” my mother said. “If your mental health needs a clean break, do it.”

I went on long walks with Pippy, my parents’ dog. To clear my brain and breathe, I needed distance.

“You’re doing the right thing,” I said. “A fresh start is fine.”

On Monday morning, I pulled into our driveway expecting Brendan and his stuff gone, but I found something much more unexpected.

All my furniture—from before I met Brendan and some from while we were together—was spread around the lawn. In the chaos, a big, hand-painted sign reading “Free Stuff!” openly invited passersby to take my possessions.

“What the hell is this?” I mumbled, closing the car door.

This is impossible. I looked at my coffee table, my flea market couch, and my grandmother’s rocking chair. Everything laying there in the sun, waiting to be stolen by strangers.

The sign was flattened by my kick. When I called Brendan, my hands shook frantically. The phone rang three times before he answered.

What’s up, Gina? He replied with a smug, casual tone.

“What’s up?” I repeated. “What’s up?”

“Yes, that’s what I asked,” he said.

“You kidding me? Why is my furniture on the lawn? Is your mind gone?”

He paused before replying.

He said, “You were going to sue for all my money anyway. I overheard you talking on the phone. I know you wanted everything. Or half of everything! So you might as well experience losing what’s yours.”

Unable to speak.

I considered taking him for a ride and taking his money, but the weekend with my parents taught me to let it go.

I said, “You’re absolutely unbelievable,” finally. Think this will solve anything? You’re hurting yourself.”

Scoffed loudly.

“Whatever. Your problem now. Maybe you should charge for your stuff instead of giving it away.”

I wanted to shout but realized it wouldn’t help. Brendan chose, like any dog with a bone, without reason.

After hanging up, I gazed at my life belongings on the lawn. I could not carry all the furnishings inside. Finally defeated, I kicked the bedside table I bought and painted months earlier.

I heard jingling when it fell.

“What now?” Crouching to open the drawer, I sighed.

I found something inside that made me smile despite my fury.

I remarked, “Stupid Brendan,” since he neglected to grab his belongings from the bedside table.

Among the loose coins, stray pencils, and receipts was Brendan’s father’s watch. He valued the family relic and rarely wore it for fear of losing or breaking it. After generations, Brendan inherited it.

But now I held it hostage.

“Checkmate,” I thought.

I felt a little satisfied as I put the watch in my pocket. He had offered it for free. Not stealing anything.

I then texted my friends to help me bring everything home.

Jenny, my companion, held a lamp and remarked, “Brendan is the worst, Gina.” This is new low.”

“Yes, I agree with you there,” I answered. Never fear—I’ll get back at him.”

I told her about the watch and how I kept it in my car. I knew Brendan would realize the watch was missing soon.

When I was finishing up the furnishings that night, my phone chimed. It was him.

“Hi, Gina,” he said. “I may have forgotten something important. May I take it?

“Oh, I don’t know,” I responded, taking another pizza from the box.

“Please,” he said. “Just the bedside tables.”

“The neighbors took some things. Also gone are the bedside tables. However, Cathy will sell it back if you’re polite.”

The silence was long.

My dad’s watch, Gina. My grandfather’s watch. I need it back.”

I paused before speaking.

“I see. Yes, with Cathy. I expect her to be sensible. For the right price.”

He saw my bluff. I heard it in his voice. But he couldn’t prove it, and I wouldn’t let him off the hook. Nope. Brendan had to struggle.

He asked “How much?”

“How much is it worth?” I requested. “A few hundred dollars, maybe?”

“Fine,” he gritted. “Return it.”

“I’ll try, but no promises.”

I turned over the watch after hanging up. My son would have gotten the watch had we possessed one. Thankfully, we split before discussing babies.

Brendan arrived the next morning when I was enjoying coffee on the porch.

“Here,” he handed me an envelope. “$500. But you realize its value.”

I nodded.

“Thanks. Leave now, I said.

I’ll contact you regarding divorce. My lawyer has some questions for us.”

Just “Cool,” I said.

Brendan double-taked, but he took the watch from me and walked away slowly, almost as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

F

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