After my divorce, I found myself at a crossroads, not just emotionally but financially as well. The split from my husband of three years had left my bank account bleeding. So, the only apartment I could afford was a tiny, sketchy, rundown place.

The apartment was managed by a landlord who gave me the creeps. His name was Mr. Thompson. I was thirty-five, trying to piece my life back together, and moving into that apartment felt like a step backward. But I wasn’t in a position to be picky.

The first thing Mr. Thompson told me when I wanted to sign the lease was that he had one rule he wanted me to follow. His weird request was that I had to take care of his plants. Now, his rule might not have been a problem, but the entire apartment was filled with them!

I mean, they were EVERYWHERE! From the living room to the bathroom, it was like stepping into a jungle! It was obvious that this man was OBSESSED! I didn’t mind the plants that much, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming!

“If you want to live here, you have to take care of these plants,” he said sternly, his eyes boring into mine.

I nodded, thinking it was a strange request but not something worth arguing about. I figured I could manage with them; besides, I didn’t have much of a choice.

Little did I know, this was the beginning of Mr. Thompson’s peculiarities. Without wasting any time or allowing me to get used to the new place and arrangement, he started calling me from day one!

He called me many times a week, always checking up on the plants. “Did you water the ficus today?” he’d ask. “Have you checked for aphids on the spider plant?” “Have a look at the money plant and ensure it doesn’t have bugs. Did you rotate them for adequate sunlight?”

His calls were RELENTLESS, and it wasn’t long before I felt like I was living in a horticultural boot camp!

I remember one day vividly. I had just returned from work, exhausted and looking forward to a quiet evening. As I unlocked the door, I heard my phone ring. It was Mr. Thompson.

“Miss Davis, did you remember to water the philodendron today?” he asked, his voice overly concerned.

“Yes, Mr. Thompson.” I sighed. “I watered it this morning.”

“And the peace lily? It looked a bit droopy last time I saw it.”

“I took care of it, too. Everything’s fine,” I replied, trying to keep my frustration in check.

“Good, good. You know how important these plants are to me,” he said before finally hanging up.

But little did I know that the worst was still to come!

One evening, I came home from a long day at work and noticed something was off. My mail, which I always left on the kitchen counter, was scattered across the table. The remote control wasn’t where I’d left it, and a mug that should have been in the sink was back in the cupboard!

At first, I tried to brush it off as forgetfulness or that I was just losing it, but it kept happening. Almost every day, I started noticing weird things. I’d come home to find things slightly out of place as if someone was moving them around.

The unease eventually settled into my bones, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been in my apartment. I decided to take action.

I bought a small, discreet camera and that night, I set it up.

I placed it in the living room, aimed at the front door with a good view of the main area. I figured if anyone was entering my apartment, I’d catch them red-handed.

You won’t BELIEVE what I discovered through the camera!

A few days later, I couldn’t focus at work. My mind kept drifting back to the footage waiting for me at home. As soon as I got back, I rushed to my laptop and played the video. When I reviewed the footage, my heart almost stopped!

There, in broad daylight, I saw Mr. Thompson unlocking my door with a key and strolling in like he owned the place (Well, he did, but you know what I mean). He went straight to the plants and started checking them all meticulously, one by one.

The most disturbing thing is that he didn’t only check on the plants; he RIFLED through my belongings! He also sat on my couch, and even had the nerve to help himself to MY coffee! At one point, he disappeared into the bathroom, and I could only imagine what he did in there!

I was LIVID! This wasn’t only about his plants; he was violating my privacy in the worst way possible! I decided to confront him, but not before collecting more evidence. For a week, I gathered footage of him entering my apartment DAILY!

He seemed completely unaware of the camera as he continued his invasive routine with a disturbing level of comfort. By the following Friday, I had a week’s worth of evidence that I could use against him by taking it to the police if he didn’t stop.

Armed with my evidence, I knocked on his door. He opened it with a smile that made my skin crawl. “Ah, Miss Davis, what can I do for you? Do you want to come in?” he asked while holding the door open with a look that could only be described as sinister.

“No thanks, there won’t be any need for that. I’m here to talk to you about a very serious matter.” Before he could respond, I held up my phone, showing him the footage. His smile faded.

“Mr. Thompson, you need to stop coming into my apartment without my permission. If you don’t, I’ll go to the police.”

His face went pale, and he tried to laugh it off. “I was just making sure the plants were okay. You know how delicate they can be.”

“I don’t CARE about the plants. This is about MY privacy. If you don’t stop, I will press charges.” I was shaking with anger, but I stood my ground.

He muttered an apology and promised it wouldn’t happen again. I didn’t trust him, but I hoped the threat would be enough to keep him out.

For a few days, things seemed to go back to normal. But karma, as they say, has a way of catching up! IT HIT HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING I COULD EVER DO! It turned out that one of his plants was more than just a leafy green!

A friend had recently given it to him, and he proudly added it to his collection without doing any research on it. He didn’t know that the new addition was poisonous but not deadly! The plant caused severe skin irritation, something HE discovered the hard way!

I came home one evening to see an ambulance outside the building. Curious, I approached one of the paramedics. “What happened?” I asked.

“An older man had a bad reaction to something he touched. We’re taking him to the hospital.”

It didn’t take long for me to connect the dots! Sure enough, the next day, I overheard some neighbors talking about Mr. Thompson’s rash. His hands and arms were covered in angry red welts, and he was in a lot of pain. Part of me felt a small, vindictive satisfaction!

One time, I went to his front door to check on him out of concern after I noticed that he hardly came out of his apartment. The footage in my place also showed that he was not snooping around there anymore.

When I placed my ear against the door, I heard him cussing in pain. Taking time to think about knocking, I decided it wasn’t a good idea to show care to the man who kept breaking into my apartment without my consent.

I also wasn’t sure how he’d receive me seeing as the plant that made him sick was at my place, especially after our recent fallout. I dropped my hand and walked back to my place, hoping he’d get better and that he’d learned his lesson.

A few weeks later, I found a better job that allowed me to move into a nicer apartment. As I packed up my things, I reflected on my time in that tiny, plant-filled space. It had been a rough period, but it also taught me about the unexpected ways life can turn around.

As I loaded the last box into my car, I took one final look at the old building. The experience had been unsettling, but it had also shown me how to stand up for myself. I was ready for a fresh start, leaving the past and Mr. Thompson behind.

As I drove away, I couldn’t help but think about the twists and turns my life had taken. Sometimes, karma works faster than we expect, and sometimes, it takes a while. But in the end, it all balances out!