I was deep into my biology textbook at the university library. My laptop was open, and my notes were scattered around me. The smell of coffee filled the air as I sipped from my cup, trying to stay focused. Then my phone rang, breaking my concentration.
Young woman in the library | Source: Pexels
Young woman in the library | Source: Pexels
It was Dad. He never called just to chat. My heart skipped a beat as I answered.
“Emma, I need you to come home right away,” he said. His voice sounded strange, urgent.
“Is everything okay, Dad?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
“Just come home,” he repeated and hung up.
Man on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Man on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I packed my things quickly, my mind racing. Why did Dad sound so urgent? I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I grabbed my bag and headed out of the library, barely remembering to throw away my coffee cup on the way out.
The drive home was a blur. My thoughts were a mess of worry and confusion. Dad never called like this. What could be so important?
A woman driving | Source: Pexels
A woman driving | Source: Pexels
When I pulled up to our modest house on the outskirts of the city, I saw Linda’s car in the driveway. Inside, I found Dad, Linda, and Jacob sitting in the living room. The atmosphere was tense.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked at me, his face grim. “Emma, we need to talk.”
I sat down, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. Jacob looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Linda sat next to him, her face unreadable.
Man staring directly | Source: Midjourney
Man staring directly | Source: Midjourney
“Jacob’s going to be staying with us for a while,” Dad began.
I nodded slowly. “Okay…”
“His old room is now Linda’s office,” Dad continued. “So he’ll be taking yours.”
I stared at him, not believing what I was hearing. “What? Where am I supposed to go?”
“You can stay on campus,” Dad said, like it was no big deal.
Shocked woman holding a pair of eyeglasses | Source: Pexels
Shocked woman holding a pair of eyeglasses | Source: Pexels
“Dad, I don’t have the money to live on campus full-time,” I protested. “I’m working part-time just to save up for next semester.”
“You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart girl!” He tried to laugh it off. “Jacob needs a place to stay now, and you have options. He doesn’t.”
I couldn’t believe it. My own father was kicking me out for Jacob, who had wasted every opportunity given to him. I felt tears of frustration and betrayal welling up, but I refused to cry in front of them.
Two men smiling | Source: Midjourney
Two men smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” I said, standing up. “I’ll pack my things.”
I spent the next hour stuffing my belongings into bags and boxes. Dad didn’t offer to help, and neither did Linda or Jacob. When I was done, I took one last look at the room that had been my sanctuary and headed for the door.
“Good luck,” Jacob said with a smirk as I passed him.
Man smiling by the window | Source: Midjourney
Man smiling by the window | Source: Midjourney
Finding a place to stay on campus wasn’t easy. I moved into a tiny dorm room, crammed with my boxes and bags. Balancing my part-time job and studies was tough, but I was determined to make it work.
Days turned into weeks, and I barely had time to breathe. I studied late into the night, worked every shift I could, and tried to save every penny. Despite everything, I felt a strange sense of independence. This was my life, and I was making it work.
Woman busy on her laptop | Source: Pexels
Woman busy on her laptop | Source: Pexels
A few months later, my hard work paid off. I landed a much better job, one that paid enough for me to rent a small, cozy apartment on the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. And I was incredibly proud of it.
One day, my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter as I was getting ready for work. Seeing Linda’s name flash on the screen, I picked it up, expecting the worst.
“Emma, you need to come home,” Linda said, her voice trembling.
Woman picking up the phone while working | Source: Pexels
Woman picking up the phone while working | Source: Pexels
“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Just come home,” she repeated, and I could hear the panic in her voice.
I grabbed my keys and rushed out the door, my mind racing. What could have happened now?
When I pulled up to my childhood home, my stomach dropped. Fire trucks lined the street, lights flashing. Neighbors were gathered, whispering and pointing.
Firemen extinguishing a fire | Source: Pexels
Firemen extinguishing a fire | Source: Pexels
I pushed through the crowd, my heart in my throat. There, in front of the charred remains of our house, stood Dad and Linda, looking devastated.
I rushed over to them, trying to make sense of the scene before me. “What happened?” I asked, breathless.
“Jacob threw a party while we were at the lake,” Dad said, his voice hollow. “One of his friends was smoking and accidentally set the curtains on fire. The whole house went up in flames.”
A party on fire | Source: Midjourney
A party on fire | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the wreckage, disbelief washing over me. My room, my things—everything was gone. But more than that, our home was destroyed.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on what mattered most.
“Everyone’s fine,” Linda said, tears streaming down her face. “But the house… it’s a total loss. We don’t have enough insurance to cover the full damage.”
Crying woman | Source: Pexels
Crying woman | Source: Pexels
Dad looked at me, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Emma,” he said, his voice breaking. “I should never have kicked you out. This is all my fault.”
I felt a surge of mixed emotions—anger, pity, frustration. “You made your choice, Dad. And now you’re facing the consequences.”
Dad nodded, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Emma, can you help us? We have nowhere else to go.”
Frustrated man crying | Source: Pexels
Frustrated man crying | Source: Pexels
I took a deep breath, my mind racing. Part of me wanted to walk away, to let them deal with the mess they created. But another part of me knew I couldn’t leave them like this.
“I’ll help,” I said finally, my voice firm. “But things have to change. I won’t be treated like a second-class citizen in my own family.”
Emma demands a change | Source: Midjourney
Emma demands a change | Source: Midjourney
“I promise,” Dad said, his voice earnest. “Things will be different.”
I looked at Linda, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll make it work, Emma. Thank you.”
I offered them a place to stay in my small apartment while they dealt with the aftermath of the fire and worked out the insurance and rebuilding plans. It was cramped, but it was a chance to rebuild our relationship.
A small apartment | Source: Pexels
A small apartment | Source: Pexels
Days turned into weeks as we navigated the new living situation. We had to learn how to coexist in such a small space, but slowly, we started to find a rhythm. I watched as Dad and Linda put in the effort to make amends, helping out around the apartment and respecting my space.
One evening, as we sat down for dinner, Dad looked at me, his expression sincere. “Emma, I know I haven’t been the best father. But I’m trying to make things right. Thank you for giving us this chance.”
I nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “We’re family, Dad. We have to stick together.”
Man hugging a woman from behind | Source: Midjourney
Man hugging a woman from behind | Source: Midjourney
Linda smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”
As the months passed, we worked together to rebuild our lives. Dad found a job to help cover expenses, and Linda started an online business to bring in extra income. I continued with my studies and work, feeling a newfound sense of balance and support.
Busy woman working on her desk | Source: Pexels
Busy woman working on her desk | Source: Pexels
The process of rebuilding our home was slow, but it brought us closer. We spent weekends at the site, helping where we could and making plans for the future. The physical work of rebuilding mirrored the emotional work we were doing, piece by piece, brick by brick.
In the end, the fire that had destroyed our house also burned away the old resentments and misunderstandings. We were stronger, more connected, and ready to face whatever came next together.
Happy accomplished woman | Source: Pexels
Happy accomplished woman | Source: Pexels
If you liked this story about a father betraying his daughter and karma hitting back at him, here’s another one!
Husband Leaves Wife & Child for Younger Woman, Years Later Daughter Becomes His Boss — Story of the Day
William abandons his wife and daughter to start a new life with his young mistress. But things change years later, and when William least expects things to go wrong, he comes face-to-face with his grown-up daughter.
William felt a pang of guilt as his wife anxiously looked at him. For a moment, he reconsidered his decision. He knew Linda would be devastated if she learned he had a mistress.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
William and Linda had been married for 20 years, shared a 17-year-old daughter, and had lived a peaceful life in the home Linda inherited from her parents. They even started a beef jerky business a year ago, but it soon stopped making money, so William’s job supported them.
“What is it that you wanted to discuss, William?” Linda broke the silence.
Curious about what happened next? Click here to read the rest of the story!
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
