{"id":3406,"date":"2026-02-04T04:47:25","date_gmt":"2026-02-04T04:47:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/?p=3406"},"modified":"2026-02-04T04:47:33","modified_gmt":"2026-02-04T04:47:33","slug":"he-gave-away-my-designer-bag-to-keep-the-peace-with-his-mom-i-didnt-argue-i-just-gave-his-playstation-5-to-my-nephew-fair-is-fair-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/?p=3406","title":{"rendered":"He gave away my designer bag to “keep the peace” with his mom. I didn’t argue; I just gave his PlayStation 5 to my nephew. Fair is fair"},"content":{"rendered":"

He gave away my designer bag to “keep the peace” with his mom. I didn’t argue; I just gave his PlayStation 5 to my nephew.<\/b> Fair is fair.<\/h2>\n

I spent a year saving for my dream designer bag. I skipped takeout, sold what I could, and watched every penny. Then, during a casual Sunday lunch, my husband gave it to his mom without asking. He thought it was no big deal. He was wrong, and he found that out the hard way.<\/p>\n

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It started with a neighborhood potluck Jake and I hosted a few years ago, and a casserole dish.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019d spent hours making my grandmother\u2019s spinach artichoke casserole in my favorite ceramic baking dish, a vintage piece I\u2019d found in a thrift shop.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Our neighbor Sue couldn\u2019t stop raving about that casserole.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThis is incredible!\u201d she kept saying, going back for thirds. \u201cYou have to give me the recipe!\u201d<\/p>\n

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People dishing up food from a buffet | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When the night wound down and people started claiming leftovers, Jake handed her the entire dish. Not just the food, the actual dish, like some kind of \u201ccompliment the food, get the dish free\u201d deal.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cShe loved it!\u201d he beamed at me like he\u2019d just solved world hunger. \u201cWe can get another one.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNo, we can\u2019t,\u201d I whispered, still in shock.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman staring at someone with a confused frown | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n

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\u201cThat was a vintage dish, Jake. They don\u2019t make them anymore. I found it at a thrift store, and it meant a lot to me.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He tilted his head. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I didn\u2019t realize.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cJust\u2026 don\u2019t give away my stuff without asking me, okay? If you want to gift people things from our house, use your own stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman frowning at someone | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He nodded. \u201cYou\u2019re right, babe. I wasn\u2019t thinking. It won\u2019t happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n

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I believed him then, but we\u2019ve been married for eight years now, and Jake hasn\u2019t changed much.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Don\u2019t get me wrong; I adore my husband and we\u2019re an amazing team, but his propensity for being generous with other people\u2019s stuff still drives me up the wall!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman looking at something with disgust | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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And it\u2019s hard because on one hand, I love that generous spirit and admire his ability to see stuff as just stuff. He doesn\u2019t have a mean bone in his body. He\u2019s just\u2026 thoughtless.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I blame it on his upbringing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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See, I grew up poor. Not \u201ctight on money\u201d poor, but the kind where birthdays meant a single frosted cupcake and secondhand clothes from Goodwill as gifts.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A Goodwill store | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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My mom stretched every dollar until it screamed. We drank powdered milk because the real stuff was a luxury, and I wore shoes until they literally fell apart.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We had our joy, but life was hard. When I landed a decent job and achieved the sort of financial stability I\u2019d dreamed of as a child, I set my sights on something I\u2019d wanted since college: a Louis Vuitton purse.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A handbag displayed in a store window | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The bag was more than a luxury. It was a trophy; a quiet win against every voice that had ever told me I wasn\u2019t worth nice things.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It took me a year to save the $1000 I needed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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During that time, I skipped takeout, took on freelance gigs after work, sold shoes on Poshmark, skipped happy hour, and did whatever it took to achieve my prize.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman working at a desk | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When I finally bought that purse, I cried in the parking lot outside the boutique.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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This was a milestone, a tangible sign that I\u2019d made it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But I didn\u2019t flaunt it. I kept the purse in its dust bag and only took it out for dates, brunches, and moments that felt worth celebrating.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"A<\/picture><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

A luxury purse | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake knew all of this. He\u2019d watched me work the extra hours and pinch every penny. He\u2019d seen me tear up when I brought it home, and had even said he was proud of me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That made what happened next so much worse.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Three months later, Jake\u2019s mom visited for Sunday lunch. She\u2019s not exactly warm, but polite enough.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A smiling woman | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I stepped into the kitchen to grab drinks. I was only gone for a few minutes, but when I walked back in, my purse was gone.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I looked around in a daze. The purse had only been out because I took it to my best friend\u2019s birthday brunch yesterday\u2026 had it fallen off the table?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cBabe, have you seen my purse?\u201d I asked Jake.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A confused-looking woman | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake smiled. \u201cOh, Mom was admiring it while you were fetching drinks, so I said she could have it.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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At first, I thought I\u2019d misheard him. \u201cYou\u2026 what?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI let Mom take it,\u201d he repeated, like he\u2019d just donated a box of old sweaters. \u201cBabe, she loved it, and you hardly ever use it.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A man smiling at someone | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Before I could say anything else, Jake\u2019s mom returned to the room with my purse over her arm.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI left everything from the purse in the bathroom, dear,\u201d she said as she settled on the sofa. \u201cIt\u2019s such beautiful craftsmanship,\u201d she murmured. \u201cI\u2019ve always wanted one of these.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I stood there watching his mother pat the purse fondly like a cat in her lap, and felt an explosion building inside me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A furious woman | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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But I didn\u2019t scream or make a scene. Not then. I waited until Jake\u2019s mom left before turning to confront him.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWhat the hell were you thinking, Jake? How could you give my Louis Vuitton purse away? You know how hard I fought to get it, how much it meant to me.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He blinked, confused.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A confused-looking man | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYeah, but you hardly ever use it, and it\u2019s just fabric and leather. What\u2019s the big deal? You make good money; that was the point of getting it, right? You can just get another.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cNo, Jake! That one was special. It meant something to me.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He sighed and crossed his arms. \u201cMom does so much for us, and it\u2019s just a bag. You proved what you wanted to prove\u2026 I can\u2019t believe you\u2019re choosing a bag over family.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A frowning man shrugging while speaking | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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That was the breaking point.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Over the years, I\u2019d watched Jake give away more things than I could count, but this time, he\u2019d gone too far.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It was clear to me now that he only understood the value of something when it was his\u2026 so maybe it was time he got a taste of his own medicine!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A frustrated woman | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake loved a lot of things, but nothing the way he loved his Titleist golf clubs. He cleaned them more often than the kitchen and kept them in a special corner of the garage.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I\u2019d watched him research each club for months before buying it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He\u2019d compared reviews, tested them at the pro shop, and agonized over every detail. The whole set had cost him nearly $3000, money he\u2019d saved from his bonus at work.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A set of golf clubs | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When the upstairs bathroom faucet started leaking and we called in Travis, our longtime plumber, I saw my opening.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Travis, mid-sink repair, mentioned he\u2019d always wanted to golf but couldn\u2019t justify the cost.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cMy dad used to play,\u201d he said wistfully. \u201cAlways said he\u2019d teach me, but then cancer got him first.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A bathroom basin faucet | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cOh?\u201d I said with a smile. \u201cWell, the minute you\u2019re done there, I must show you my husband\u2019s clubs.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Less than half an hour later, I was standing in the garage watching Travis try out Jake\u2019s prized golf clubs.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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You should\u2019ve seen his face when I asked if he\u2019d like to have them.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A happy man | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The next morning, Jake came thundering into the kitchen, panic in his voice.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWhere are my clubs?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I sipped my coffee calmly. \u201cOh. Travis really liked them. You weren\u2019t using them this week, and he needed a set, so I let him have them\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake\u2019s face turned white.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A shocked man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYOU WHAT?!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I tilted my head. \u201cIt\u2019s just metal and rubber, babe.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThey\u2019re not! Those clubs are irreplaceable. You had no right to give them away. God, I can\u2019t believe you did that! You completely disrespected my belongings and the hard work I put in to get those clubs.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A man speaking angrily to a woman | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I leaned in real close then, and looked him in the eye. \u201cExactly. Just like how you disrespected my belongings and my hard work when you gave my purse to your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The silence that followed cracked something open. His face cycled through a whole range of emotions: confusion, anger, understanding, and finally, something that looked like shame.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThat\u2019s\u2026 that\u2019s not the same thing,\u201d he said weakly.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A couple arguing | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIsn\u2019t it?\u201d I asked, taking another sip of coffee. \u201cTravis needed them. He does so much for us. I can\u2019t believe you\u2019re choosing golf clubs over helping people.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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The words hung in the air like smoke. Jake opened his mouth, then closed it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake raged, paced the kitchen like a caged tiger, and then he called Travis.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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AN angry man making a phone call | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cOh yeah,\u201d Travis said over speakerphone. \u201cYour wife gave them to me. But she was just messing with you. They\u2019re still in the garage, but we moved them behind some boxes.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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For two days, Jake didn\u2019t speak much.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But when he finally did, he said something unexpected: \u201cI didn\u2019t get it. I do now.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A thoughtful man sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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We sat at the dining table, not arguing, just unraveling years of misunderstanding.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThe purse felt abstract to me,\u201d he said. \u201cLike, yes, you loved it, but it was \u2018just a thing.’\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIt was never just about the bag,\u201d I told him. \u201cIt was about the fact that you treated my feelings like they were optional, that you didn\u2019t respect what the purse represented.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A stern-looking woman | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He apologized and promised to stop making choices that weren\u2019t his to make, but I cut him off.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI\u2019ve heard that before, Jake, after you gave away my favorite casserole dish and said your ten-year-old niece could have my diamond earrings.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI mean it this time, I swear! I\u2019ve learned my lesson, and I\u2019ll prove it to you\u2026 I\u2019ll buy you a replacement for the purse I gave Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A remorseful man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIt\u2019s not about replacing the purse. It\u2019s about respecting me, so the next time you get the urge to give away something of mine without asking me first, think of your golf clubs, the watch you got from your dad, the PlayStation\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Jake nodded eagerly. \u201cI get it, I swear.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A few days later, Jake\u2019s mom texted: \u201cThanks again for the lovely gift!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A woman holding a cell phone | Source: Unsplash<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I replied, polite as ever: \u201cI\u2019d love to grab lunch sometime soon. I\u2019ll bring a real gift, something wrapped. With a receipt.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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You see, some lessons can\u2019t be taught with words. Sometimes you have to let people feel the weight of their own choices.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

He gave away my designer bag to “keep the peace” with his mom. I didn’t argue; I just gave his PlayStation 5 to my nephew. Fair is fair. I spent … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3404,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3406","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-real-life-story"],"brizy_media":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3406","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3406"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3406\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3408,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3406\/revisions\/3408"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3404"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3406"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3406"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyreadin.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3406"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}