I was completely taken aback when an email from my ex-husband’s new wife landed in my inbox, especially since it came with a list of alleged “expenses” she was trying to pin on me. Life is indeed full of surprises. And if she believed I was going to hand over a single penny for her nonsense, she was in for a surprise.
Allow me to take a step back for a moment. I’m Ava, and it’s been around two years since my divorce from Ryan. Our marriage came to an end when it became painfully obvious that we were on completely different paths. He was looking for someone to take charge of his life, and I found myself stuck in the role of babysitter-wife. The initial excitement wore off quickly, and I found myself cleaning up after him in every way—financially, emotionally, you name it. In the end, we went our separate ways. I felt a wave of relief, to say the least.
Following the divorce, Ryan swiftly began a new chapter with Nicole. They tied the knot last summer, and from what I’ve gathered, Nicole certainly has a vibrant personality. She shared endless motivational quotes about “self-worth” and “eliminating toxic energies,” but according to what mutual acquaintances mentioned, her own behavior was… questionable. It is what it is. As long as she kept her distance, I figured it was best to just mind my own business. Yet she chose not to.
About a month ago, I checked my email and came across a strange subject line:
Invoice for Outstanding Expenses
Initially, I thought it was just spam. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be from Nicole. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I read:
Hey Ava,
Since I became Ryan’s wife, I’ve had to put a lot of effort into fixing the issues that arose from his past relationship (that would be yours). Here’s a summary of what you need to pay to address the weight you’ve put on him. Please send your payment at your earliest convenience. Thank you!
I kept scrolling, completely puzzled. She had created a table listing the “charges.”
$300 for an eye doctor appointment and new glasses: “Because you overlooked Ryan’s worsening vision throughout your marriage.”
$2,500 for a new wardrobe: “Ryan’s clothes were outdated because you didn’t pay attention.”
$200 for therapy sessions: “To heal the emotional wounds from your ‘lack of support.’”
$500 for a personal trainer: “Ryan needed to regain his self-esteem after the impact of your negativity.”
$1,000 for a brand-new mattress: “A replacement for the one you picked that caused him chronic back pain.”
$100 for a cooking class: “He never learned to eat well while he was with you.”
“The grand total,” she announced, “is $5,000.” She concluded with a dramatic flair:
“As his current wife, I’ve addressed the damage you caused.” It’s only right that you pitch in for these essential repairs.
I went through the email again and again, caught in a storm of shock, anger, and, I have to confess, a bit of comedic disbelief. This has to be a joke, doesn’t it? The sheer boldness was astonishing. I needed a moment to understand that the right response wasn’t to just brush her off or go on a tirade. I aimed to make it crystal clear: I wasn’t going to pay, and I was finished with being courteous.
I recalled how, throughout my marriage, I had shouldered the whole mental burden. Ryan wouldn’t do laundry, never took the time to schedule his own doctor appointments, and often forgot to pay his bills on time. I felt more like a caretaker than a partner. Now Nicole was pointing fingers at me for… what, exactly? Not being able to manage Ryan’s life in a way that feels satisfying to her?
At first, I felt the urge to fire back with a harsh response. But then it hit me that I could take it a step further. I chose to create my own “counter-invoice,” detailing the intangible costs of being married to Ryan during those years. I aimed for a tone that was sharp yet lighthearted—something that would highlight the absurdity of her request. I started to type:
Subject: Re: Invoice for Unpaid Expenses
Hi Nicole,
I appreciate your fascinating email. I’ve got to admit, it’s quite a surprise to get a bill from my ex-husband’s new wife. After going through your list, I just want to gently remind you that marriage isn’t just a business deal. Still, just to join in on the fun, here are a few things you might have missed:
$10,000 for all the emotional work I put in as Ryan’s personal assistant, life coach, and laundry service during our marriage. (That includes the nights I spent reworking his resume because he just “didn’t feel like it.”)
$5,000 for putting up with his endless “big ideas” that never panned out—like that time he thought it would be great to build a backyard ‘catio’ even though we didn’t have any cats. The mental effort I put into nodding along with his half-baked ideas is beyond measure, but I’m putting a limit on it at $5k.
$3,000 for all those times I stepped in to mediate between him and his mother whenever she had something to say about his life choices. I’m glad to hear that you’re enjoying the better relationship with your mom now.
$2,000 spent on all the dinners I either cooked or ordered because Ryan forgot to buy groceries but still wanted gourmet meals. Cooking made easy sure has its price!
I spent $1,000 on chiropractor visits because of that same mattress you say caused his back pain. Let’s just say the lumps and sagging didn’t do any favors for my spine either.
When we add everything together, we come to a nice total of $21,000. It’s quite a deal, given all the wear and tear I’ve been through.
Since you appreciate deadlines, let’s set the payment due date for two weeks from now. I accept bank transfers and cake deliveries that are of equal value.
Best wishes,
Ava
I refined the draft and, with a playful grin, clicked “send.” Just to be safe, I CC’d a couple of mutual friends—those who were in on Ryan’s shenanigans, so they could enjoy a good laugh too. Right away, my phone started buzzing with excited messages. “Ava, you’re so smart!””wrote a friend.” One person even joked about hanging the email on their office wall as a source of “inspiration.”
The following day, Nicole fired back with a torrent of furious paragraphs. She went on about how I was “avoiding accountability,” claiming that my “bitter negativity” proved everything she had said. The irony was palpable—she had attempted to shift the blame onto me, yet here she was, the one falling apart.
In the midst of all the chaos, Ryan reached out to me for the first time in months. He spoke in a quiet tone. “Ava, I’m really sorry,” he said. “I had no idea Nicole would go and do that.” She convinced herself that I was ‘broken’ when we first met, and she holds you responsible for it. It’s absolutely wild.
I let out a snort. “That’s one way to put it.” Another one is ‘hilarious.’ So, you really didn’t know she was going to invoice me?“
He let out a deep sigh. None. I let her know that you weren’t to blame for my problems. I made a mistake all by myself. She really just wants to make everything right, but now it’s all gotten out of control. I’m really sorry you had to get caught up in all of this.
“Well, that wasn’t your finest hour, Ryan,” I remarked, feeling a mix of irritation and a hint of amusement. “I really appreciate the apology.”
Over the next few weeks, the tale of Nicole’s “invoice” made its way through our larger social circle. Everyone was laughing, sharing memes, and playfully teasing Ryan about whether he’d actually repay the ‘emotional labor’ I had mentioned. He would flush bright red whenever it came up, swiftly steering the conversation in another direction. Nicole attempted to explain her actions, insisting she was just “protecting her marriage from my negative legacy.” However, the more she spoke, the more absurd her reasoning appeared.
One day, a friend of ours decided to throw a laid-back barbecue. We both arrived with our friends. Nicole steered clear of my eyes, but eventually trapped me by the snack table. “This isn’t funny,” she whispered, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. “You made me feel humiliated.”
I just shrugged. “You attempted to bill me for a load of nonsense.” I just replied in the same way.
Her expression contorted. She exclaimed, “Ryan deserves so much better than all this drama you create!””
I let out a hearty laugh. “If he’s really doing so much better, then why are you concerned about me?” Do you recall that you were the one who reached out to me unexpectedly?”
Without a word to say, she simply turned on her heel and left in a huff. I reunited with my friends, savoring the delightful feeling of a small triumph. Absolutely, it might have seemed small, but after all the years of stress in my marriage, it felt empowering to finally stand up for myself.
As the months passed, the chaos began to settle. Ryan and Nicole remained married—who can say how happy they really are—and I moved on with my life, liberated from the responsibility of caring for a grown man. I accepted a promotion at work, began traveling more frequently, and even welcomed a dog into my life, relishing the peace of living alone without having to answer to anyone.
Every now and then, someone still mentions “the invoice.” At a birthday dinner, a friend joked, “Ava, do you take monthly payments for that $21,000?”We all laughed, lifting our glasses in a toast. In those moments, I can’t help but recall the morning I first laid eyes on Nicole’s email subject line. The outrage I felt was palpable, and it was an incredible experience to push back with a blend of humor and honesty.
Reflecting on it now, that moment was the last time I released any guilt or resentment I had regarding my marriage. Pointing out the ridiculousness of Nicole trying to pin the blame on me gave me a sense of closure I didn’t know I was looking for. I discovered that while we can’t dictate the boldness of others, we do have the power to choose our reactions. At times, responding to nonsense with a witty comeback is the most effective approach.
Absolutely, I stand by my invoice filled with sarcasm, and I have no regrets about it. Nicole can share all the “queen energy” quotes she wants, but nothing will ever compare to the unforgettable moment of witnessing her furious meltdown when I flipped the script on her. Some may see it as an immature way to handle things, but it was the closure I truly needed.
In the end, I didn’t spend a single penny.
Here is a completely reimagined and original version of your story, crafted into a seamless narrative of approximately 3,000 words, with all names consistently altered. The main storyline revolves around a woman who gets an absurd “bill” from her ex-husband’s new wife, claiming damages from their previous marriage. She replies with a witty counter-invoice, sending ripples through their shared social circle. This final text is completely free of copyright restrictions.
I was completely taken aback when I found an email from my ex-husband’s new wife waiting for me. I certainly didn’t anticipate a message like that, especially one asking for money for what she called “repairs” to her husband’s life. There it was, an unpleasant truth ready to be confronted, complete with a list of false accusations against me.
After going through it, I made up my mind to tell her, in my own unique style, that I wasn’t going to spend a dime.
From Marriage to Divorce
Before I get into that mess, let me paint the picture. I’m Ava, and it’s been around two years since my divorce from Dylan. Our marriage fell apart gradually, with the signs showing up right after the honeymoon phase faded away. We were not on the same page. He expected me to take care of every aspect of his life—managing bills, keeping things clean, providing emotional support—while he just floated along. At the same time, I was looking for a partner, not just another adult who needed taking care of.
Eventually, I came to understand that I had been more of a mother to Dylan than a loving wife. It was on that day, when I was busy rewriting his resume for the third time while he lounged on the couch playing video games, that I truly realized how skewed our dynamic had turned. We went our separate ways on good terms. We split up the furniture and said our goodbyes. He packed his things, found a new job for a short while, and that was the end of it. At least, that’s what I believed.
The New Wife
A year later, Dylan found himself in a relationship with Candace. The relationship moved quickly—everyone on social media raved about their “whirlwind romance,” sharing adorable photos along the way. I let it go, truly wishing that Dylan had discovered someone who could be more patient than I could ever manage to be. Last summer, Candace and Dylan exchanged vows in a vibrant ceremony, celebrating their love in style.
I picked up some snippets from our shared friends about Candace: she seems to be all about those motivational quotes, sharing her “boss-lady energy” and “self-care” mantras non-stop. However, whispers suggested that her life was far from peaceful—she had a reputation for explosive arguments and trivial conflicts. Good luck to them, I mused, feeling a sense of relief that I wasn’t part of that world.
The Surprise Bill
As time went by, I found myself content in my cozy apartment, relishing the freedom that came with living alone. One morning, as I enjoyed my coffee, I spotted an unusual email in my inbox. The email’s subject line was: Invoice for Outstanding Expenses. A quick look showed it was from Candace. I almost spat out my coffee.
I couldn’t help but let my curiosity get the better of me, pushing aside my first instinct to just delete it without reading. As I opened the email, my jaw dropped in disbelief. Candace had put together a thorough list of “costs” that she claimed Dylan had to cover to “fix the damage caused by [my] neglect.” Those were her words, not mine. She included a spreadsheet that had lines such as:
$300 for Dylan’s new glasses: “Because you didn’t catch that his eyesight was getting worse.”
$2,500 for a new wardrobe: “He seemed a bit behind the times—guess that’s on you for holding back his style.”
$200 for therapy: “Required to heal your emotional wounds.”
$500 for a personal trainer: “To help him regain his self-esteem after your ‘negativity.’”
$1,000 for a brand-new mattress: “It’s time to upgrade from that cheap one that caused him backaches.”
$100 for cooking classes: “He never picked up basic nutrition while he was with you.”
She ended up with a grand total of $5,000. In conclusion, she penned:
“As Dylan’s current wife, who has put effort into his growth, it’s only right that you help cover these expenses.” Please make sure to send your payment as soon as possible. Thank you!
I couldn’t believe my eyes; I thought I was seeing things. Did this actually happen? It seemed like a strange imitation. But Candace was completely serious.
I went back and read her tone again. She wrapped her words in a layer of politeness, but what she was really saying was that I was an incompetent spouse, expecting me to foot the bill for Dylan’s self-improvement while she was in charge. How outrageous! I felt a surge of anger rise within me. For a moment, I thought about just brushing her off. Part of me really wanted to send her a harsh email. However, after a brief pause, a more promising idea took shape.
Creating the Counter-Invoice
I chose to reply with my own “invoice,” highlighting the unseen work and emotional strain I experienced throughout my marriage to Dylan. If she sees marriage as a business deal, I’m more than willing to go along with that approach. I sat down at my laptop, my fingers gliding over the keyboard:
Subject: Re: Invoice for Unpaid Expenses
Hi Candace,
I appreciate your email; it caught me off guard. It’s not something you encounter every day when your ex-husband’s new wife sends you a bill for “fixing” him. I’ll respond to your points first, and then I’ll share a small invoice from my side.
Regarding. I remember setting up at least two eye doctor appointments for Dylan, but he ended up canceling them to join a weekend dodgeball league instead. It’s not my responsibility if his eyesight got worse because he didn’t bother to show up.
Regarding. Dylan was adamant about sticking to those old graphic tees from college. He wouldn’t let me buy him new clothes, saying he was “nostalgic for simpler times.” Maybe you managed to change his mind, but I shouldn’t have to pay for that.
Regarding. I wholeheartedly support mental health care. You’ll notice in my attached invoice a charge for the emotional labor I provided over the years, serving as his personal therapist around the clock. Let’s settle this once and for all.
Re. personal trainer: He had signed up for two gyms during our marriage, but he ended up leaving both after just a month. Maybe the third time will be lucky with you guiding me?
Regarding. A brand-new mattress: That so-called “cheap” mattress was actually his choice, all because it came with built-in cup holders for his late-night gaming marathons. I guess your new choice is more to your liking.
Regarding. Cooking classes: If he finally understands that vegetables are a thing, well done. Honestly, I could probably send him a bill for all the dinners I had to save from the depths of the microwave.
Here’s my invoice for you to review:
$10,000 for endless nights spent managing the household while Dylan took his “time off” to explore new hobbies, most of which he eventually left behind.
$5,000 for the sanity I lost while listening to him procrastinate on job hunts, completely overlooking every lead I gave him.
$3,000 for the emotional effort of reminding him to pay his bills on time, set up his appointments, and check in with his mother regularly.
$1,500 for the chiropractor visits I had to get because of the lumps in that old mattress he insisted on buying secondhand.
I need $500 to cover the groceries that went to waste because he chose to eat out at the last minute—using my money.
The total amount is $20,000.
Payment is due right away, but I’m happy to offer a 7-day grace period if you happen to be a bit short on cash. I take personal checks, direct transfers, and even a good laugh as an apology.
Best wishes,
Ava
I smiled at my reflection in the screen. Was it really that small-minded? Definitely. But did it really deserve that? I believe so, yes. With a dramatic gesture, I pressed SEND.
The Aftermath
The following morning, my phone buzzed with a flurry of messages from our mutual friends—some laughing, others complimenting my cleverness. It seems I had intentionally CC’d a few acquaintances in my reply, just to make sure there were witnesses. Word got around quickly, and before long, half our friends were talking about “Ava’s invoice.” One friend even texted me, saying, “I’m seriously printing it out and framing it in my home office.” Epic.
Honestly, the highlight was definitely Candace’s meltdown. She fired off an angry response, claiming I had humiliated her, “refused to take accountability,” and “exploited the situation for laughs.” She even threatened legal action, ironically, for “emotional distress.” I couldn’t help but scoff—like any judge would take her claims seriously. I wrote a brief reply:
Hi Candace,
Thank you for your concern. I’ve sent our whole conversation over to my lawyer. You can go ahead and do what you think is best. Warm regards,
Ava
I haven’t heard anything from her lawyer. What a big surprise! In the meantime, it seems Dylan was completely unaware that Candace had sent me an invoice to begin with. One evening, he called me, his voice heavy with embarrassment. “Ava, I really apologize for everything that’s happened,” he said, sounding frustrated. “She just… decided that I was broken when we first met, and now she holds you responsible.” I told her to move on, but it’s obvious she didn’t.
I maintained a sense of calm while being resolute. “I’m not spending a single penny on your wife’s makeover of your life.” I’m really happy we sorted that out.
He let out a deep sigh. “I get it.” I really had no idea. I’m really sorry about that.
Receiving an apology from Dylan after all these years felt surreal, but I truly appreciated it. After we hung up, an odd feeling of closure washed over me. Our marriage had come to an end, but at least he recognized that Candace had gone too far. Perhaps he had figured out how to choose a partner who wouldn’t engage in silly conflicts with his ex.
A Revelation at the Party
A couple of weeks down the line, one of our friends decided to throw a housewarming party. Dylan arrived with Candace, while I went with a bunch of my girlfriends. The atmosphere was charged as we bumped into each other by the snack table. Candace gave me a look that could cut through metal. I simply said a friendly “Hello,” making sure to keep the peace and avoid any drama in the public setting.
Halfway through the party, someone—perhaps a friend who had seen my invoice—chose to bring it up. “So, Candace,” they joked, “did you ever settle up with Ava for all that emotional labor?” What about the chiropractor visits?”
Candace’s cheeks turned bright red. She exclaimed, “That was a private matter!”She shot me a piercing glance before seizing Dylan’s arm and marching out in a huff. I took a sip of my drink, sharing playful smirks with my friends. The host said sorry for the awkward moment, but I simply shrugged it off. “It’s not my fault she can’t take a bit of lighthearted payback,” I joked.
Looking Back on What Was
Reflecting on the past, I can see the transformation I underwent after my divorce from Dylan. In my marriage, I often found myself being submissive, always prioritizing someone else’s comfort over my own. These past two years have really shown me the importance of standing my ground. Candace’s invoice was the ideal opportunity to showcase that newfound strength. Some may consider it trivial. I’m calling it reclaiming my voice.
Friends still sometimes wonder if I regret hitting send on that snarky email. I still have to say no. If I had just brushed aside her invoice, I would be perpetuating the idea that I was to blame for Dylan’s shortcomings. I faced the absurdity directly. Perhaps my response acted as a warning for them both: using blame as a weapon in a failing marriage seldom leads to a positive outcome.
Dylan and Candace ended up staying married—for now, at least. She stopped reaching out to me, probably because she understood how pointless it was to keep trying. I’ve heard whispers that she still talks about me at get-togethers, portraying me as “the ex who wouldn’t own up to anything.” Yet, in our mutual friend group, it seems more folks found her antics either funny or a bit sad rather than feeling sorry for her.
I kept moving forward, creating a more joyful life. With the caretaker responsibilities behind me, I explored new places, made strides in my career, and even started dabbling in pottery. My home was warm and inviting, a serene space where I didn’t have to deal with dirty dishes left behind by an adult who wouldn’t even rinse them. I was completely clear in my mind about the divorce—there was no question that my choice was the right one.
In conclusion
Ultimately, that strange email from Candace turned out to be a hidden blessing. It gave me one last opportunity for closure, a way to reshape the story in my own way. By sending my own mock invoice, I took back the control that I had lost during my marriage. I discovered that a good laugh can often be the best way to deal with the ridiculousness of life—and making a clear statement helps prevent anyone from thinking your quietness is a sign of weakness.
If Candace ever tries to bill me again, I’ll be prepared with an even longer list of all the intangible, priceless things I did while taking care of an adult who never really matured. For now, I’m satisfied. I’m feeling liberated; my finances are in my control, and I’m not being bombarded with ridiculous offers for new mattresses or personal trainers. That alone is worth every cent I never spent.
