The child was born deaf? Leave him at the hospital, I’m not going to raise a child like that!” — said my wife, raising her voice.

— Our boy was born deaf? Leave him at the hospital, I’m not ready to nurture such a child!” — my wife’s voice rang with a fury I had never noticed before.

“— Olga, what are you saying? This is flesh of our flesh,” — I looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

The doctor put his hand on my shoulder: “Congenital deafness, complete. Unfortunately, there’s no chance of recovery.”

In these sounds, which my son would never hear, reality was terrible.

“— You don’t understand, Sasha,” — Olga said.

“This is a sentence for us for life. Special conditions… We’ll just destroy ourselves. When will we live?”

I shifted my gaze to the tiny bundle. A small, wrinkled face, gently pink and peaceful.

“— I’m taking him home,” — I said quietly but firmly. “— What?” “— I said I’m taking the baby. Alone.”

For illustrative purpose only

“— Are you out of your mind? You’re working part-time as an electrician! How are you going to raise such a baby?” “— Exactly the same as any other. Day by day.”

In the morning, I found that Olga had abondoned, leaving a note with two lines: “Sorry. I can’t control it.”

Five years of life together were only four words on a torn notebook page.

A week later, I delivered my son to my home.

“— And how are you going to manage alone?” — our neighbor Marina Petrovna called out from behind the fence as I approached the house. “— No idea,” — I answered honestly. “— But there’s no choice.”

The first months transformed into an endless survival race. I learned to alter diapers with one hand while working part-time job.

The village commented: “Poor guy,” “He shouldn’t have let his wife go,” “It’s not a man’s job to suffer from diapers.”

I realized a simple truth: my son didn’t know he was missing anything. To him, the world had always been peaceful. But that didn’t make him imperfect. In his world, there were just unsimilar rules.

For illustrative purpose only

Every day, we learned a new language. Seeing my sleeping son in his crib, I often thought: “How can anyone reject their own child just because he’s not like everyone else?”

Fortunately, I had recently received a house from my parents and sold it, so I had enough money for living expenses, and I could only work in my free time when the neighbors could watch the baby.

Thus, we began a new life. 

After 5 years, Denis grew into a smart, smiled boy with unruly brown curls.

Our house was full of a language without sounds — a language of images and touches. I mastered the sign language for objects, actions, and feelings. My son also learned.

At night, when Denis fell asleep, I would call the representative of schools to register for study. 

“— Alexander, you understand that our school is not equipped to teach a child like yours?” — the principal, Nadezhda Igorevna, said softly but firmly. “— Specialists are needed, special methods…”

“— What if I accompany him to classes? Translate everything the teachers say?”

“— And when will you work?” — she sighed. “— Sasha, understand, he needs a boarding school for the hearing impaired in the city.”

For illustrative purpose only

The solution came unpredictedly with the arrival of a new teacher.

Anna Sergeevna transferred to our village school from the city. I met her for the first time in our local store, where she was unsuccessfully trying to explain to Nina Fyodorovna that she was prepare for the local press.

“— We don’t have any newspapers,” — I intervened. “— But there’s Zinaida Petrovna. She delivers the mail and also collects and expands all the gossip. A walking newspaper, you could say.”

Anna laughed said:
“— Thanks for the tip,” — she extended her hand. “— I’m Anna, the new elementary school teacher.”

“— My son says you have a beautiful smile,” — I translated.

“— You understand sign language?” — she quickly questioned.

“— Yes,” — Denis responded with gestures. “— Dad taught me.”

To my surprise, Denis already understand a lot — he had learned to read some words by lip-reading and had taught himself the basics of math.

“— And an incredible attention to detail. He can’t hear, but he notices what others miss.”

One evening, when Denis was already in the middle of the tenth dream, we sat on the veranda.

“— You know,” — Anna said quietly, “— I’ve never met a father like you.”

“— What kind of father?”

“— A real one. The kind who doesn’t take the easy path.”

Six months later, their marriage came true.

For illustrative purpose only

No fanfare, no noise, just the closest ones. Denis carried the pillow with the rings, beaming with pride over the task entrusted to him.

And then, six months later, a little miracle occured in our life.

Anna brought back from a trip to the city an experimental hearing aid she got through old connections.
“— It won’t improve full hearing,” — she concerned, “— but it may help distinguish very loud sounds.”

We installed the device, not expecting much. Anna picked up a bell and rang it right next to Denis’s ear.

My son’s face transformed — his eyes widened, his lips parted in amazement.

“— I felt something! What was that?”

And over time, Denis called Anna “Mom” for the first time.

“— Tell me about my real mom,” — Denis’s gestures were confident.

I knew this question was undeniable. But it still caught me off guard.
“— Why now?” — my hands moved slower than usual.

“— I want to know everything that’s left in the past before moving forward,” — Denis smiled.

“I’ve been offered a job,” — Denis smiled. “— At an IT company. Remote development. They liked my contest project.”

Despite deafness, he developed an amazing ability to see patterns in code that others missed.

“— Congratulations, son!” — I hugged him. “

“— A new stage is coming,”

“— I want to settle everything that’s left in the past before moving forward.”

When the doctors shared her about your deafness, she broke down.

For illustrative purpose only

She was scared she wouldn’t deal with, scared of the life that awaited us.

“— She wanted to leave me at the hospital?” — Denis said.

“— Yes,” — I admitted. “— She said she couldn’t nurture a special child.”

“— Did you ever tell her about me? Did you try to find her?”

“— No,” — I mutted. “— She left for good. I heard she got married in the city, had more kids. I didn’t seek out a meeting. I thought — if she wants, she’ll find me.”

“— Do you regret it?” — His gaze was piercing. “— Staying with me alone?”

I smiled:

“— Not a single day, son. Not a single minute.”

“— What’s this serious conversation about?” — her hands fluttered in the air, creating words.

“— The past,” — Denis answered, then turned to me. “— I forgive her, Dad. But I don’t want to meet her. My real mom is here,” — he threw a warm glance at Anna.

“— He’s grown into an amazing person,” — she said, resting her head on my shoulder.

“— Thanks to you,” — I kissed her on the temple.

“— No,” — she shook her head. “— Thanks to your decision.”

So we sat together under the evening sky — not a perfect family, but a true one. She left because she couldn’t deal with my health. And we stayed. And became a family.

My Neighbor Refused to Pay Me ($250) for Cleaning Her House as We Agreed — I Taught Her a Fair Lesson

They say neighbors can either become friends or foes, but I never imagined mine would turn into both overnight. What started as a simple favor turned into a bitter feud and a twist that left us both reeling.

When my husband, Silas, walked out of our lives six years ago, I never imagined I’d be standing in my kitchen, scrubbing the same countertop for the third time, wondering how I’d become this version of myself.

I’m Prudence, 48, a mother of two, trying to make ends meet while working remotely for a call center. Life didn’t exactly turn out as I’d hoped.

A closeup of a sad and tired lonely woman | Source: Midjourney

A closeup of a sad and tired lonely woman | Source: Midjourney

Silas and I used to talk about our dreams, you know? The kind of life we wanted to build together. But somewhere along the way, those dreams shattered, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone.

He walked out one evening, saying he needed “space to find himself,” leaving me with our then eight-year-old son Damien and just a few months old daughter Connie. I guess he found more than space because he never came back.

A photo showing a sad woman in the foreground with her husband's silhouette in the background | Source: Midjourney

A photo showing a sad woman in the foreground with her husband’s silhouette in the background | Source: Midjourney

“Mom, can I have some cereal?” Connie’s small voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Her wide brown eyes, so full of innocence, stared up at me from the kitchen table.

“Sure, honey. Just give me a second.” I forced a smile, grabbing the cereal box from the top shelf.

Damien, now 14, shuffled into the kitchen, earbuds plugged in as usual. He barely looked up from his phone. “I’m heading out to meet up with Jake, okay?” he mumbled.

A young boy standing in the kitchen with his earbuds plugged in | Source: Midjourney

A young boy standing in the kitchen with his earbuds plugged in | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t stay out too late. And remember, homework first when you get back,” I called after him as he stormed out the door, not waiting for my reply.

It was just another day in the life I’d been patching together since Silas left. Balancing the responsibilities of raising two kids alone while trying to keep a roof over our heads wasn’t easy.

My work at the call center helped, but it wasn’t exactly my dream job. It was a job, though, and in times like these, that’s all that mattered.

A woman working from home | Source: Midjourney

A woman working from home | Source: Midjourney

That’s when Emery, the new neighbor in her early 30s, knocked on my door. I opened it to see her, eyes red-rimmed, looking like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Hey, Prudence, can I ask you for a huge favor?” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

I nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “Sure, Emery. What’s going on?”

A tired and sleepless woman standing outside a house door | Source: Midjourney

A tired and sleepless woman standing outside a house door | Source: Midjourney

She sighed, sinking into the couch like she was about to collapse. “I had this crazy party last night, and then I got called out of town for work. The place is a disaster, and I don’t have time to clean it up. Could you, um, help me out? I’ll pay you, of course.”

I hesitated, glancing at the clock. My shift was due to start in a couple of hours, but the idea of earning some extra cash was tempting. Lord knows we could use it.

“How much are we talking about?” I asked, folding my arms across my chest.

A curious woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

A curious woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” she said quickly. “I just really need the help, Prudence. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“Alright,” I agreed after a moment. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” Emery hugged me quickly before rushing out, leaving me to wonder what I’d just signed up for.

Emery’s house was a wreck, and that’s putting it mildly. It looked like a tornado had blown through it, with empty bottles, plates with half-eaten food, and trash strewn everywhere.

A messy house with empty bottles, dirty plates, and trash strewn everywhere | Source: Midjourney

A messy house with empty bottles, dirty plates, and trash strewn everywhere | Source: Midjourney

I stood in the middle of her living room, hands on my hips, trying to figure out where to even begin.

Two days. It took me two solid days of scrubbing, sweeping, and hauling garbage out of that house. By the time I was done, my back ached, and my hands were raw. But I kept reminding myself of that $250 Emery promised. That money would go a long way for us.

A woman looks sad and thoughtful while cleaning | Source: Midjourney

A woman looks sad and thoughtful while cleaning | Source: Midjourney

When Emery finally got back, I marched over to her place, ready to collect.

“Emery, it’s done. Your house is spotless,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “So, about the payment…”

She blinked at me like I was speaking another language. “Payment? What payment?”

I frowned, my heart sinking a little. “The $250 you promised for cleaning up your house. Remember?”

Emery’s expression shifted into one of confusion, then annoyance. “Prudence, I never agreed to pay you anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A woman looks confused and annoyed while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman looks confused and annoyed while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, I just stood there, dumbfounded. “You… what? You said you’d pay me! We had an agreement.”

“No, we didn’t,” she snapped. “Look, I’m late for work, and I really don’t have time for this.” She pushed past me, heading towards her car.

“Emery, this isn’t right!” I called after her, but she was already backing out of her driveway, not giving me a second glance.

As I watched Emery’s car disappear down the street, I stood there, fuming. How could she just walk away like that?

An extremely angry woman | Source: Midjourney

An extremely angry woman | Source: Midjourney

Two days of back-breaking work, and she had the nerve to pretend like we never made a deal. I could feel my anger bubbling up, but I knew better than to act on impulse.

I went back to my house, slammed the door behind me, and paced the living room, trying to think. Connie was playing with her dolls on the floor, and Damien was still out with his friends. I didn’t want to drag my kids into this mess, but I also wasn’t about to let Emery get away with it.

A woman lost in her thoughts | Source: Midjourney

A woman lost in her thoughts | Source: Midjourney

“Alright, Prudence, you’ve got to be smart about this,” I muttered to myself. I looked out the window at Emery’s house and an idea started to form in my mind. It was risky, but I was beyond caring at that point. If she wanted to play dirty, I could get down in the mud too.

Twenty minutes later, I was at the local garbage dump, pulling on a pair of old gloves I kept in the car. I wasn’t proud of what I was about to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

A woman standing at a garbage dump site | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing at a garbage dump site | Source: Midjourney

I loaded up my trunk with as many garbage bags as I could fit, the stench nearly making me gag. But I gritted my teeth and kept going.

On the drive back, I kept replaying our conversation in my head, her dismissive tone, her refusal to acknowledge what she’d promised. The more I thought about it, the more justified I felt.

She didn’t even have the decency to respect the hard work I’d put into cleaning her filthy house. Well, she was about to see just how dirty things could get.

A woman driving an old car | Source: Midjourney

A woman driving an old car | Source: Midjourney

When I pulled up in front of Emery’s house, the street was quiet. No one was around to see me pop the trunk and start hauling the garbage bags to her front door. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through me as I worked quickly.

It was then I realized something: Emery had forgotten to take her house key back from me. She was in such a hurry when she left, she didn’t even think about it.

A closeup of keys lying on a wooden surface | Source: Midjourney

A closeup of keys lying on a wooden surface | Source: Midjourney

I hesitated for a moment. But then I thought of the look on her face when she told me there was no agreement, the way she dismissed me like I was nothing. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house was still spotless, just as I’d left it, but that was about to change. One by one, I tore open the garbage bags, dumping the contents all over her floors, her counters, and even her bed. Rotten food, old newspapers, dirty diapers: everything mixed in a disgusting heap.

A dirty room filled with trash dumped all over the place | Source: Midjourney

A dirty room filled with trash dumped all over the place | Source: Midjourney

“This is what you get, Emery,” I muttered under my breath as I emptied the last bag. “You wanted to play games, well, game on.”

I closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it, and slipped the key under her welcome mat. As I walked back to my car, I felt a strange surge of satisfaction and guilt. But I shook it off. Emery had brought this on herself.

That evening, just as I was putting Connie to bed, I heard furious banging on my front door. I knew who it was before I even opened it.

A woman hugging her little girl | Source: Midjourney

A woman hugging her little girl | Source: Midjourney

“Prudence! What the hell did you do to my house?!” Emery screamed, her face red with anger.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe, playing it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Emery. How could I have gotten into your house? We never had any agreement, remember? So, I never had the keys to your house.”

She stared at me, speechless for a moment, before her face twisted in rage. “You—you’re lying! I’m calling the police! You’re going to pay for this!”

A woman screaming in anger | Source: Midjourney

A woman screaming in anger | Source: Midjourney

I shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Go ahead and call them. But how are you going to explain how I got in? You can’t because according to you, I never had the key.”

Emery opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out. She looked like she was about to explode, but all she could do was turn on her heel and storm off, muttering something under her breath.

I watched her go, my heart still pounding, but this time it wasn’t just from anger. There was a sense of justice, of balance restored.

A happy and determined woman | Source: Midjourney

A happy and determined woman | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know if she’d call the police, but I wasn’t worried. Emery had learned a valuable lesson that day: don’t mess with Prudence.

As I closed the door, I let out a long breath, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. I knew I’d crossed a line, but in that moment, it felt like the only way to make things right.

Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means getting your hands dirty. And as for Emery? Well, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be asking me for any more favors anytime soon.

A depressed and exhausted woman | Source: Midjourney

A depressed and exhausted woman | Source: Midjourney

Do you think I handled things well? What would you have done differently in my place?

If you enjoyed this read, here’s another one you might like even more: When my new neighbor knocked on my door at 2 a.m., I had no idea I was about to be dragged into a web of lies and infidelity. What started as an act of kindness quickly spiraled into a moral dilemma that would force me to question everything I thought I knew about trust and doing the right thing.

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.

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