My Sister’s Kids Broke My TV & She Refused to Pay for It — but Karma Had Other Plans

“Perfect! You’re the best!”

Famous. Last.

Words.

At first, everything seemed fine. The kids were giggling, bouncing around the living room while I folded laundry and tidied the kitchen. I even snapped a photo of them coloring together and texted it to Sam.

“Look who’s getting along for once,” I typed under the picture, followed by a hopeful emoji.

He sent back a heart.

For a few brief minutes, I thought maybe this’ll actually be okay.

But then… the sound.

CRASH.

That sound that makes every parent’s stomach flip.

You know it the second it hits. It’s never a soft bump or a harmless knock. It’s the kind of crash that’s followed by a silence so loud, your heart drops into your shoes.

I dropped the dish towel and ran in.

And there it was… a nightmare in full color.

Our brand-new flat-screen lay face-down.

Cracked like a windshield after a head-on collision. A trail of orange juice was dripping off the stand, soaking into the rug. A soccer ball rolled lazily under the couch like it knew exactly what it had done.

Mia sat cross-legged, eyes wide and wet.

“Mommy…” she said, voice trembling.

“They were throwing the ball. I told them not to. But they said their mommy lets them.”

My heart clenched.

Jayden and Noah stared at the floor like statues.

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