The phrase “MIL destroys garden out of spite” might sound like something from a drama series—but for me, it became painfully real. One quiet morning, I stepped into my backyard expecting to see the lush green space that had become my refuge. Instead, I found devastation. My tomato plants were flattened, herbs ripped out, and the soil trampled into chaos. It looked as though someone had poured anger into the ground.
My name is Samantha, though most people call me Sam. I’m 29, married to Jake, 33, and together we have three children under ten. Earlier this year, I decided to create something of my own—a small vegetable garden behind our home. What began as a neglected patch of grass quickly turned into my therapy, a project that bonded me and my kids.
We planted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and strawberries. My daughter Emily drew the layout, Ben dug holes with a little shovel, and Sophie carried watering cans that nearly outweighed her. Every evening, we’d stand outside together, watching the first green shoots break through the soil.
But my mother-in-law, Linda, despised it from the start. She would visit and comment:
“You spend more time with that garden than with your husband.”
“You’ll never keep it alive, Sam. Some people just don’t have a green thumb.”
I brushed it off—until that July afternoon. After running errands, I came home to find the gate wide open, flower boxes overturned, and every plant destroyed. The destruction wasn’t random—it was personal. Then I saw it: a pink silk scarf, tangled on the fence. Linda’s.
I called her immediately.
“Linda, did you come to our house today?”
“Maybe I did,” she replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Because someone destroyed my garden. Everything’s gone.”
Her tone turned cold: “Oh sweetheart, maybe next time don’t ignore my advice.”
When Jake confronted her later, she admitted it—claiming she was just “cleaning things up.” Yet, somehow, he still defended her. That broke something inside me.
I didn’t scream or argue. Instead, I cleaned up quietly, choosing patience over anger. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that karma was already planting its own seeds.