When my stepmom “accidentally” smashed the TV I’d saved for over a year to buy, she thought she’d pulled off the perfect crime. But sometimes fate has other ideas, and what happened to her a month later made me believe in karma again.
Life at 23 isn’t quite what I pictured as a kid. I’m in a small one-bedroom apartment across town from my childhood home, working an entry-level job at an advertising agency that barely pays for rent and food.
My dad lives about 20 minutes away with Deborah, the woman he married two years ago.
They have a cozy suburban house with a two-car garage and a backyard. It’s the kind of place I’d love to have someday, but for now, my little apartment suits me just fine.
I lost my mom at 15. Cancer took her after a tough two-year battle that drained our family’s emotions and savings.
After Mom passed, Dad and I grew incredibly tight.
He was my anchor during those awful months when grief felt like it might pull me under.
Dad’s always been there for me, and he was fully behind me when I decided to move out at 18 for college, even though I knew he felt lonely in that big, quiet house.
College was tough but rewarding. I studied media, juggled part-time jobs to cover books and groceries, and slowly figured out how to adult on my own.
Dad and I stayed close, chatting on the phone every few days and grabbing lunch when our schedules lined up.
Two years ago, Dad called with news I wasn’t ready for.
“Sophie, honey, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said. “I’ve been seeing someone. Her name’s Deborah, and we’ve been dating for about six months. I know it’s sudden, but I wanted you to know first.”
My heart did a strange lurch in my chest.
Part of me was glad Dad found someone after being alone so long. But another part felt protective of Mom’s memory and worried about how this would shift things between us.
“Dad, that’s… that’s awesome,” I managed. “I want you to be happy. When can I meet her?”
“Actually,” he went on, and I could hear his smile, “we’re thinking of getting married. Deborah makes me feel alive again in a way I didn’t think I could after losing your mom.”
That’s how I learned about Deborah.
Within three months, they tied the knot in a quiet City Hall ceremony with just a few close friends and family.
For the most part, things went smoothly after the wedding. Since I was on my own and only saw them on holidays or occasional Sunday dinners, Deborah and I didn’t have much chance for tension.
She seemed to make Dad happy, and that was what mattered most.
Until I bought a TV.
The thing is, I’d been saving for over a year for a nice flat-screen TV.
Each month, I set aside whatever cash I could after paying rent, bills, and groceries. I skipped café hangouts, cooked at home instead of getting takeout, and even sold old clothes and books online to boost my TV fund.
It wasn’t easy going without much entertainment, but I had a goal, and I was set on reaching it through hard work and focus.
Finally, last month, I had enough saved.
I spent hours online, checking models, reading reviews, and comparing prices before picking a sleek 43-inch smart TV with all the features I wanted.
The day I brought it home and set it up in my living room was one of the happiest I’d had in ages.
Now, Deborah’s the type who always wants “fairness” to tilt her way.
If she sees someone with something nice, she suddenly needs it too, and she has a knack for making you feel bad if you don’t offer to help her get it.
A week after I got my TV, Deborah and Dad came over for dinner.
The second Deborah stepped inside, her eyes locked onto the TV like it was calling her name. She stopped mid-sentence about the drive over and just stared.
“Wow, this is fancy,” she said, walking right to it and running her hand along the smooth black frame like she was checking for flaws. “Look at this picture, Henry. It’s so sharp.”
Dad smiled and nodded. “Sophie’s been saving for months for this. She worked hard for it.”
“You know, ours is getting old,” Deborah said, ignoring what Dad said about my effort. “The colors are dull, and the sound cuts out sometimes. You should convince your dad to get me one like this, Sophie.”
I laughed lightly, thinking she was joking. “Yeah, maybe when you guys have some spare cash. These aren’t cheap.”
Deborah turned to me with an odd half-smile I’d never seen before.
“Well, you could chip in, right? I mean, you’ve got yours now. It’d be nice if you helped your dad and me get something like it.”
I thought she had to be kidding.
“Deborah, I saved for over a year for this,” I said. “I can barely cover my own bills. There’s no way I could buy another one.”
Her smile vanished instantly, and her whole vibe shifted like a switch had flipped. The warm, chatty Deborah was gone, replaced by someone cold and sharp.
“Selfish,” she muttered, loud enough for Dad and me to hear. “After all your dad and I do for you.”
My face flushed with embarrassment and confusion. What did she think they did for me?
I paid my own rent, bought my own food, and had been on my own since college.
“Deborah, I don’t get what you mean,” I said carefully, trying to hide the hurt. “I handle my own stuff. I’m not asking for anything.”
Dad looked uneasy, shifting in place.
“Let’s just eat,” he said quickly. “Sophie, I’m starving.”
I tried to shrug off Deborah’s comment and focus on a nice dinner, but the mood had soured. She spent the rest of the night making snide remarks about how “nice it must be” to have new things and how some people “forget family” once they get what they want.
When they left that night, Deborah paused by the TV one last time.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said with that fake smile. “These things don’t last forever, you know.”
I thought she was just talking about electronics wearing out.
Now I know she was hinting at what she planned to do.
Two weeks later, Deborah came by my apartment again.
She said she was dropping off mail that had gone to their house by mistake. It was perfect timing since I was at work, so she used the spare key I’d given Dad for emergencies.
When I got home that evening around 6 p.m., I knew something was off.
Then I saw my TV.
The screen was completely shattered. Not just a crack in one spot or a scratch from a brush.
The whole screen was wrecked, with spiderweb cracks spreading from what looked like several heavy hits, like someone had smashed it repeatedly.
I stood there, staring for minutes, trying to make sense of it.
There was no way this was an accident. The TV had been secure on its stand against the wall, exactly where I’d left it.
My hands trembled as I grabbed my phone and called Dad’s number, hoping for an explanation that could make this nightmare make sense.
The phone rang three times before Deborah picked up, which was odd since I was calling Dad’s cell.
“Hey, Sophie,” she said in a syrupy voice that set me on edge. “How was work?”
“Deborah, where’s Dad? I need to talk to him now.”
“He’s in the shower. Can I help you with something?”
“Someone broke into my apartment and smashed my TV. Since you were the only one with a key, I need to know what happened.”
There was a pause.
“Oh, that. I’m so sorry, honey. Total accident. I was trying to help by cleaning your living room, and my cloth slipped. I must’ve knocked something into the screen.”
Yeah, right, I thought. The screen’s obliterated. This isn’t from cleaning.
“Deborah, this isn’t from cleaning. The screen’s destroyed. What really happened?”
“I told you it was an accident,” she said sharply. “I feel awful, obviously, but these things happen.”
“Can you put Dad on now?”
“He’s still in the shower, but I’ll have him call you back.”
She hung up before I could reply, leaving me staring at the ruins of something I’d worked so hard for.
When Dad called back an hour later, he sounded stiff and uneasy, like he knew this wouldn’t go well.
“Sophie, sweetheart, Deborah told me what happened. She feels horrible about the accident.”
“Dad, this wasn’t an accident. Look, I know you love Deborah, but she wrecked my TV on purpose. The damage is way too bad for this to be a mistake.”
“She said it was an accident, and I have to trust my wife. But we’ll help you replace it, okay? Maybe we can shop for a new one together next weekend.”
Tears welled in my eyes. Dad was buying Deborah’s flimsy story over his own daughter’s valid concerns.
“Dad, she came here while I was at work, with the key you gave her, and deliberately broke the one nice thing I’ve bought for myself. How can you not see that?”
“I’m not having this talk now, Sophie. Deborah said it was an accident, and that’s that.”
He hung up, and I realized Deborah had already fed him her version of the story.
Over the next week, things got worse.
Deborah apparently called Dad’s sister, his brother, and several family friends, spinning her sweet tale of what happened.
According to her, she was doing me a kind favor by cleaning my apartment, accidentally broke my TV, and felt so bad she offered to replace it.
But then, she said, I was “rude” and “hostile,” acting like she’d done it on purpose.
My cousins and aunt called, asking why I was being unfair. That hurt more than I expected, since these were people who’d known me forever.
How could they believe Deborah’s fake story?
For the next month, I lived with a broken TV and a family swayed against me by Deborah’s lies. I couldn’t afford a new one, and every glance at the shattered screen left me angry and powerless.
But here’s where it gets interesting, and where I started believing in karma again.
A month after my TV was ruined, Dad called me out of nowhere on a Monday evening. He sounded stressed and annoyed.
“Sophie, you won’t believe what happened,” he said, skipping small talk. “The washing machine flooded the whole laundry room. Ruined the wood floors, damaged the walls, and wrecked a bunch of boxes in the closet. Water even seeped into the kitchen and living room.”
I could hear Deborah arguing with someone in the background.
“How’d that happen?” I asked.
“Insurance says someone tampered with the settings and left the machine running with the door open. They’re calling it carelessness, so they won’t cover the repairs.”
I didn’t need to ask who was doing laundry.
Dad went on, “Deborah was on the phone with her friend Karen, bragging about juggling five tasks at once to be super efficient. She forgot the machine was running and left the door open while she went upstairs to sort the bedroom.”
“So what’s this mean for you guys?” I asked.
“It means we’re paying for everything. New floors, wall fixes, and replacing all the damaged stuff. Deborah’s dipping into her fun money savings to cover it.”
Her fun money savings. The same money she’d wanted me to help with so she could get a TV like mine.
“Wow, Dad. That’s tough. I’m sorry you’re dealing with that.”
“Yeah, well. Stuff happens, I guess.”
When Dad told me the total damage cost, I did quick math in my head. Deborah would have to spend about three times what my TV cost to fix her mess.
I hung up and looked at my broken TV, and for the first time in weeks, I smiled.
I’m not saying I was thrilled Dad had to handle the stress and cost of major repairs.
But I can’t deny it felt like the universe had balanced things out a bit.
Sometimes karma works in strange ways, and sometimes it hits just the way you’d hope.
