On a long flight, a woman’s patience is tested by a child who kicks her seat and parents who ignore the disruption. What begins as a frustrating ordeal soon takes a surprising turn, revealing that karma has a way of delivering unexpected lessons.
As I settled into my aisle seat for a seven-hour flight, I hoped for some much-needed relaxation. With a book in hand, noise-canceling headphones on, and a good playlist ready, I thought I was prepared for the journey ahead. The cabin was packed and the air felt stuffy, but I was willing to endure it for a peaceful trip.
Then it began. A soft thumping at the back of my seat started to grow louder. Initially, I dismissed it, thinking a child was just adjusting in their seat. But the thumping became a steady rhythm, kick, kick, kick, each hit harder than the last.
I turned around and saw a boy, around six or seven, swinging his legs and grinning as if he were having a great time. His sneakers repeatedly slammed into my seat, creating a mini drum concert. His parents, seated nearby, were glued to their phones, completely unaware of the chaos their child was causing. I hoped the boy would tire out soon, or that his parents would notice, but the kicks only intensified.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I turned around, offering a polite smile and asked the parents to ask their son to stop kicking my seat. The mother barely acknowledged me, dismissing my request with a “He’s just a kid!” before returning to her phone. I tried again, but the father was too engrossed in a video to care. Sensing his parents’ indifference, the boy kicked even harder, laughing as if he were winning some game at my expense.
I pressed the call button for the flight attendant, hoping she could help. She arrived, friendly and professional, and I explained the situation. She approached the family, asking them kindly to stop the boy from kicking my seat. For a brief moment, there was silence.
But as soon as she walked away, the kicks resumed, even more forceful this time. Frustrated, I stood up and spoke louder, asking them again to control their child. The mother rolled her eyes, and the father muttered something dismissive. The boy laughed and kicked harder. At this point, I was fed up. I called the attendant again, asking if I could switch to another seat. She returned shortly with good news: there was a seat available in first class.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my belongings and followed her to the front of the plane. The first-class section was a welcome relief, spacious, quiet, and free of children. I settled into my new seat, and the tension melted away. I was finally able to relax, enjoying a drink and diving into my book.
As the flight continued smoothly, I overheard the attendants talking about my old seatmates. The boy had found a new target for his kicks, an elderly woman who had taken my place. When she asked him to stop, the mother snapped at her, escalating the situation to a shouting match that caught the attention of the flight crew. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the elderly woman but couldn’t deny the poetic justice unfolding. As we prepared to land, I noticed security vehicles waiting by the gate.
When we disembarked, I saw the family being escorted off the plane by security officers. The boy, who had been so bold earlier, was now crying, clinging to his mother. The parents looked embarrassed, no longer the dismissive people they had been. I left the airport feeling a sense of satisfaction that surprised me. Karma had intervened, allowing me to enjoy my first-class experience and witness a bit of justice served.
As I walked past the family, I couldn’t help but smile at them. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the closure I needed. Sometimes, the universe has a way of balancing things out, and that day, it certainly did. With my book finished and my flight experience greatly improved, I walked away with a story that would surely entertain friends in the future.
Mother Came Out of Coma After 17 Years and Took Revenge on Her Own Daughter – Story of the Day
After a difficult delivery, Olivia’s mother became comatose, but she woke up years later, not realizing how long it had been. She hated her daughter for everything that happened until she saw something on Olivia’s computer.
“Dad, can you tell me what happened back then?” Olivia asked her father once again. Heath had always been reluctant to tell his daughter this story, but she was old enough to know now.
“I met your mother the night I saw her performing for the first time. Renata was the best ballerina this town had ever seen, and I had to meet her. I thought she would reject me, but she didn’t. We started dating immediately,” Heath reminisced.
Olivia visited her mother constantly for 17 years. | Source: Shutterstock
“What happened?”
“I really wanted a child after we got married, but she would have had to give up her career. Eventually, Renata agreed, and we were so happy. When she was about 7 months pregnant, the doctors told us that she had a big spinal problem,” Olivia’s father continued.
“Oh no!”
“Yeah, honey. It was bad. They told her it would be better to induce her labor then and try to repair it. You were born premature but healthy and thriving. Unfortunately, Renata’s surgery was complicated. The doctors said she pulled through, but she never woke up,” Heath said sadly.
Doctors couldn’t explain exactly what happened. | Source: Pexels
“They didn’t explain why?” Olivia asked.
“No. They said that she could wake up any minute. That’s why we visited her so often. I’ve been waiting, but it doesn’t seem like it will happen. I’m losing hope,” her father added.
“No, dad! She’ll wake up! She’s my mom!” Olivia exclaimed. Coincidentally, the doctor called the next day, as Renata had miraculously awakened.
“How is this possible, Dr. Green?” Heath asked when they arrived at the hospital.
“There’s no explanation right now, Mr. Haney. We’ll have to run some tests, but there might never be an answer,” the physician answered.
Heath wanted to see Renata before she met Olivia. | Source: Pexels
“Honey, let me go in first. Remember, she doesn’t know that 17 years have gone by,” Heath told Olivia. She agreed and stayed back, although the teen girl was dying to talk to her mother after all these years.
Heath walked into Renata’s room. “My love! You’re here! Why am I so tired? Did the surgery go well?” she wondered and hugged Heath. He didn’t know how to answer her questions but settled on hugging her back.
“Where’s the baby? Can I see her?” Renata wondered.
“Yes, darling. But you might be a little surprised,” Heath began. “Olivia, can you come in here, please.”
Olivia greeted her mom happily. | Source: Pexels
Olivia stepped into the room, and there she was. Her mother was sitting up on the bed and smiling. She had been dying to see this after so many years of talking to her sleeping form. “Hello, Mom!” Olivia said.
“What is this, Heath? Is she the nanny? Where’s our baby?” Renata asked in confusion, frowning when Olivia called her “mom.”
“No, darling. It’s a long story,” Heath started. He explained everything to Renata slowly, and at first, she refused to believe it.
“No! You’re lying! This is a prank! That’s impossible!” Renata yelled and cried. “Get that girl out of my room and bring me my baby!”
Renata didn’t want anything to do with her daughter. | Source: Pexels
“Renata, calm down, please,” Heath said. But just then, Renata saw herself in the mirror. She saw all those 17 years on her face, and any chance to be the best ballerina in the world was gone now. She went quiet.
After a few days, the doctor cleared her to go home, but Renata refused to speak to Olivia. Olivia did everything around the house, hoping to please her mother. “Mom, what do you want for dinner?” she asked one evening.
“Don’t call me ‘mom.’ I don’t want anything from you,” she replied disdainfully and went upstairs. That night, she made Heath have dinner alone with her, while Olivia stayed in her room. Over the next few days, Renata treated her daughter worse.
Renata made messes that Olivia had to clean. | Source: Pexels
When Olivia cleaned, Renata purposely made another mess like cracking a raw egg on the kitchen table, which Olivia had to clean again. “Why are you doing this to me?” Olivia asked.
“I’m not doing anything. I just don’t want you in my house,” Renata said nonchalantly.
“I’m your daughter!” Olivia wailed.
“That’s what Heath says, but I don’t care! I don’t want you here! You need to leave now!” Renata added angrily. She walked into Olivia’s room and decided that the girl had to leave immediately. She started packing her things until she saw her computer.
She looked through Olivia’s computer and discovered heartwarming videos. | Source: Pexels
She started clicking stuff and discovered a folder named “For Mom.” It was a collection of videos Olivia made dedicated to her. She was there in the hospital on Renata’s birthday. She talked about missing her mom and how she couldn’t wait to see her wake up.
It brought tears to her eyes and she suddenly grieved all the years she had lost and how she blamed her child for it. “Mother! Why are you packing my things? Is this revenge for what happened when you got pregnant with me?” Olivia exclaimed when she entered her room.
“No, baby. I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have blamed you. None of this was your fault! Waking up from a coma and discovering everything was overwhelming. I love you!” Renata cried. They both hugged and started to build a relationship right there.
Olivia practiced ballet, and Renata was her teacher. | Source: Pexels
Eventually, Renata opened her own ballet studio, and Olivia started taking lessons directly from her mother.
What can we learn from this story?
- You can’t blame others for what happens to you. Sometimes, freak incidents happen, and there might not be someone to blame.
- Pregnancy is a serious matter. You have to research thoroughly before taking that important step because it can derail your life and plans.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who refused to care for her mother in her old age.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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