Fifteen years of marriage, two children, and countless memories—gone. Josh, my husband, stood behind her, cold and unbothered. “I’ve moved on,” he said, refusing to even meet my eyes. Worse, he was keeping our kids, claiming I had nowhere to take them.

I didn’t fight. I gathered my things and left, heartbroken but determined.

A month passed in misery until karma knocked—Josh’s grandfather, Theo, the real owner of our home, decided justice was due. “The house is yours now,” he told me, honoring the kindness I had once shown him.

The next day, I returned with the legal documents. Josh and Victoria were stunned. “Pack your things,” his mother, Jeanne, ordered. “And get out.”

By nightfall, they were gone. My children were home. As I tucked them in, my daughter asked, “Are we going to be okay?”

I smiled. “We already are.”

Because in the end, karma always collects its debts.