When Mia’s stepmother, Trudy, decided to throw herself an extravagant party for her 45th birthday, Mia knew she’d be roped into the role of an invisible helper. Little did Trudy know, karma was on Mia’s side, waiting to dish out a lesson she’d never forget.

Get ready, because this is one of those moments where the universe steps in at just the right time, and let me tell you—it’s satisfying.

Meet the main characters: I’m Mia, a 16-year-old living with my dad and stepmom, Trudy. Trudy’s been around for about two years now, and she’s nailed the “wicked stepmother” role like it’s her job. If entitlement had a mascot, it would be Trudy.

Life with her feels like living in a bad reality TV show, except there’s no camera crew, and I’m definitely not getting paid.

My dad? Well, he’s more of a “keep the peace” kind of guy. He follows the “happy wife, happy life” mantra, but with Trudy, happiness is a rare commodity. She expects the world to revolve around her.

Then came last Saturday—Trudy’s birthday bash. She went all out, like it was a royal event. The party was more of a wedding reception than a birthday celebration. It was all part of her attempt to cling to her youth, strutting around the house like a queen in the days leading up to it.

“Mia, make sure you get me something special this year,” she said one morning as I was making my smoothie. “A dishwasher would be nice. I’ve done a lot for you, after all.”

Sure, Trudy. By “a lot,” she meant treating me like Cinderella’s understudy.

“Uh, Trudy,” I replied, blending my smoothie, “I’m saving up for my prom dress.”

Her face twisted into disbelief. “Your prom dress? That’s ridiculous! Just get something cheap from a store. A dishwasher is way more practical. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

Excuses? Really? She expected me to drop my prom dress savings on a dishwasher for her? Like, where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?

To make matters worse, Trudy had convinced my dad that I was “too young” to get a job. Babysitting the neighborhood kids was my only way to save money, and my prom dress savings wouldn’t even come close to buying a dishwasher.

Fast forward to the day of the party. The house was a flurry of activity with caterers, an event planner, and floral arrangements that could put a botanical garden to shame. Meanwhile, I was wiping down mirrors and setting up drink stations, just trying to stay out of the way.

As soon as Trudy’s friends arrived, she transformed into the star of her own show, tossing around fake smiles and basking in compliments. “Mia! Refill the drinks!” she called out. Of course, I had to comply.

I floated through the party like a ghost, waiting for the cake to be cut so the day could finally be over.

Later, I managed to sneak a plate of food and find a quiet corner. My dad spotted me and chuckled, “Taking a break, Mimi? I’ll get you a fancy milkshake from the milkshake station.”

Soon after, it was time for the cake. My dad lit the candles, and Trudy did a little dance, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. But when the party started to wind down, she clinked her wine glass and looked at me with that all-too-familiar, smug expression.

“Mia, since you didn’t bother to buy me a dishwasher, the least you can do is wash all these dishes.”

The room went silent. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at me. I was mortified. Did she really just say that out loud?

“You didn’t get your mom a gift?” one of her friends said, feigning pity. “That’s so rude.”

I swallowed hard, keeping my voice steady. “Trudy, I told you—I’m saving for prom.”

She waved me off, dismissing my words. “Just wash the dishes, Mia. Do something useful.”

I wanted to scream, but instead, I forced a smile and said, “Fine.” I spent the next hour scrubbing dishes, my frustration boiling over as I worked.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by Trudy’s screams coming from the kitchen. When I rushed downstairs, I found her in the middle of a kitchen disaster. The floor was flooded, and the air smelled like burnt plastic.

“What happened?” I asked, still groggy.

“The pipes! The kitchen is ruined!” Trudy shrieked, flailing her arms.

Turns out, Trudy had poured meat oil down the sink the night before and tried to flush it with drain cleaner—totally wrecking the pipes.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. Karma, anyone?

For the next week, the kitchen was out of commission. Repairs cost so much that my dad announced they’d have to cut back on expenses.

“Except for Mia,” he added. “I have $500 for her prom dress.”

Trudy was furious. “You’re spoiling her, David! What about the kitchen tiles?”

“You spoiled yourself with that party. I can spoil my daughter for her prom.”

Trudy fumed, but in the end, she backed off. She even agreed to let me get a part-time job and made an effort to patch things up with me.

“I’ll help you find a prom dress,” she offered.

Do you think her change of heart will last?

What would you have done?