I never imagined I’d come home to find my beloved flower garden bulldozed and replaced with a giant muddy hole, but that’s exactly what happened when my father-in-law Richard decided to build a pool—without asking anyone. I’m Linda, a forty-year-old high school English teacher living with my husband Tom and Richard, who moved in with us two years ago after my mother-in-law passed.

Tom and I have been happily married for fifteen years, and though living with Richard has been challenging, I always tried to make it work out of love for my husband. Our backyard had always been my safe haven. With no children, I had poured my heart into creating a lush, colorful garden, growing every flower from seed and caring for each plant like it was a piece of my soul. Gardening was my passion, my escape from a long day of teaching, my therapy. But Richard never seemed to appreciate that. One night after dinner, he casually said, “We should put in a pool.” I nearly choked.

pool? Where? The yard wasn’t that big, and my garden took up most of the space. Tom supported me, gently reminding his dad how much work I’d put into that garden and how impractical a pool would be. But Richard wouldn’t let it go. He kept bringing it up, insisting a pool would be great for him and his friends during hot summer days. I stood firm and told him, “No, Richard. I love that garden, and we’re not tearing it up for a pool.” I thought that settled it. I was wrong.

That weekend, Tom and I went to visit my parents. We left Saturday morning and planned to return Sunday evening. But the moment we pulled into our driveway, I felt something was off. There were tire tracks across the front lawn, and as we walked around to the backyard, my heart sank. My garden was gone. In its place was a massive dirt pit, and Richard stood in the middle of it, smiling like he’d done us a favor. “I’ve started the pool,” he said. “No need to thank me.” I couldn’t speak. Tom, on the other hand, lost it. “Dad! What the hell is this? We told you no!” Richard just shrugged and said, “You’ll see, it’ll be worth it.” That night, I cried. All my hard work—gone. Tom promised to fix it, to hire a landscaper, and to make it right. The next morning, the diggers returned, but karma arrived with them. Our neighbor Mrs. Jensen, a strict stickler for city codes and no fan of Richard’s, saw the digging and approached with her dog. In her overly sweet voice, she asked Richard if he knew how close to the property line he was allowed to dig. He brushed her off, but she smiled wider and said, “The city inspector is a good friend of mine.

Let’s ask him.” Within the hour, an inspector was at our house, looking unimpressed. “You’re in violation of multiple codes,” he said. “You’ll have to fill this in immediately. And there will be a fine.” Richard tried to protest, but it was useless. The contractors began filling the hole, but not before hitting an old water pipe. Suddenly, water shot out and flooded the yard. Mud went everywhere, and in the chaos, Richard slipped and landed face-first in the swamp. His expensive suit was ruined, and his plans—literally—washed away. In the end, Richard had to pay for everything: the fine, the pipe repairs, cleanup costs, and restoring the backyard. He hasn’t mentioned a pool since. These days, he stays quiet in his room, and if anyone even says “pool,” he gets up and leaves. As for me, I’ve slowly rebuilt my garden. Every new bloom feels like a triumph. Mrs. Jensen and I have become friends, and she always checks in with a wink to make sure no new “pools” are popping up. Tom and I laugh about it now—it’s our favorite story at dinner parties. And looking back, I’m grateful, because Richard’s selfish act taught him a lesson, strengthened my bond with Tom, and proved that sometimes karma really does come with a splash.