My SIL’s Kids Ruined My Newly-Done Wallpaper with Markers – The Truth I Discovered Left Me Fuming

For my spouse and I, purchasing our first house was meant to be a dream come true. Instead, when I discovered that the person ruining our hard work wasn’t a kid with markers but rather an adult with a grudge, one family dinner became a nightmare.

My name is Poppy. I’m thirty years old, and I would have laughed a year ago if you had told me that wallpaper would be my major source of worry rather than work or bills. Chace, my spouse, is twenty-eight. He’s the cool man, the one who, with two hours of perseverance and a YouTube video, can fix a leaking faucet.

After saving for what seemed like ten years, we recently purchased our first house together. It’s ours, even though it’s not particularly fancy or move-in ready. Every dusty corner, creaking step, chipped corner? Ours.

We dedicated our weekends to remodeling. There was a very romantic quality to it, even if we would collapse at night smelling like cheap pizza and paint thinner.

Our favorite area was the living room. In the store, we chose wallpaper that made us both stop—a subdued botanical design with a little shimmer that caught the light in a delicate, enchanted way. We spent evenings matching every strip, smoothing every air bubble, and laughing through our mistakes—it was costly, but we called it our “treat.” The room felt like an embrace after it was all finished.

I had never felt so proud of anything tangible as I did each time I entered that room.

I was completely on board with Chace’s suggestion to host a family dinner to showcase it.

It was straightforward: a salad or two, pasta, and garlic bread. Nothing fancy, just a potluck-style supper. Just a comfortable evening spent with those we loved—or, in certain situations, just put up with.

My sister-in-law, Jess, arrived with her twin boys, Luke and Harry. They are seven years old. Jess, a 32-year-old single mother, is, to be honest, complicated. We’ve never been able to connect. She has a knack for making everything into a contest, including employment, parenting, finances, and even who can make the finest dessert.

I try to be courteous, though. Despite her attitude, she deserves credit for being the sole provider for her two boys.

In the den, I would set up a little children’s area with ready-to-watch cartoons, Goldfish, and juice boxes. To add some fun, Chace even threw in a beanbag chair.

Everything was going smoothly. Glasses clinking, laughter, and the aroma of garlic butter. When I heard it, I ducked into the kitchen to get more beverages.

giggling.

Not the adorable type.

I stopped, put down the Coke bottle, and moved slowly in the direction of the living room.

That’s when I noticed it.

I gasped. Bright red, blue, and green marker swirls with loops and zigzags that extended from the floor to waist height were visible on our just installed wallpaper. The rug was covered in marker caps that looked like confetti. I felt sick to my stomach.

I was momentarily immobile, as if someone had punched the air out of my chest.

Harry gave me a shy little smile as he held out a green cap.

“Oopsie,” he muttered.

Luke smiled. “Great job, bro! Now Mom will reward us!”

I blinked. “What?”

To be honest, I believed I had misheard.

“Jess? Can you come in here for a second?” I said as I turned, trying not to lose my temper.

Probably after helping herself in the kitchen, she walked in drying her hands with a paper towel. She looked directly at the wall.

After saying “Oh,” she burst out laughing.

In fact, she laughed.

As though the hours Chace and I had spent in that room were in vain, her scathing laughter reverberated in my ears.

She shrugged, as if they had spilled a cup of juice rather than vandalized an expensive wallpaper job. “Boys will be boys,” she said. “They’ll get bored eventually. Don’t stress. You can just redo it.”

I was taken aback. “Jess, this wallpaper cost us hundreds. We spent weeks getting this right.”

She gave me a really serious look. “You bought a house. You can afford to redo a wall. They’re just little boys.”

I tightened my jaw. My ears started to burn. I was about to shout, but instead I feigned a grin, excused myself, and left.

I tried wiping the ink off with a cloth, but it just smeared and sank farther into the paper. That gleam of metal? It appeared as though a finger painting session had gone awry.

I visited three stores the following day and purchased every specialty cleaning they carried, but nothing was effective. The discolorations were irreversible. Chace hired an expert, and the cost of redoing just one wall was $450.

That night, we sat on the couch, both of us angry and tired.

I whispered, “She didn’t even apologize,”

“I know,” Chace muttered. “But she’s a single mom. I mean, she’s probably stretched thin.”

I gave a nod. I was aware of that, and I felt bad for even feeling this angry. However, there was a much larger part of me that was angry.

I assured Chace, however, that I would not charge her. I thought she might give me a call or text. She wanted to express her regret or embarrassment. However, nothing appeared. There was not even a “hey, sorry the boys got into trouble.”

Her silence, which demonstrated that she didn’t give a damn about what we had lost, hurt more than the wall’s destruction.

Then the second round began.

Jess returned a week later. She decided to remain for coffee even though she had intended to “drop something off” As soon as they were inside, the twins fled. While we were talking in the kitchen, I kept a half-eye on them, but I didn’t hear anything that sounded like mayhem.

till I heard whispering as I was making my way down the hallway to the living area.

When Harry said, “You draw the tree this time,”

Luke echoed, “No, I want to do the swirls again,” in a whisper. “Mom said if we make a masterpiece on the wall again, she’ll buy us new LEGO sets.”

With my heart racing, I froze. I remained motionless, gasping for air.

Every word they said made it more difficult to act as though this wasn’t intentional, and their tiny voices echoed down the hallway like a hammer to my chest.

“She gave me the green marker,” Harry muttered to himself. “She said, ‘Don’t tell Auntie.'”

I felt cold all around.

This wasn’t a harmless mishap. They had been encouraged by Jess. It was her plan. She was an experienced practitioner.

Stunned, I stared at the corner where the hallway ended and the living room began. I had trembling hands.

This was not something I was going to overlook.

The night I heard the boys whispering in the corridor, I was unable to sleep. I simply laid there, rereading all they had said while gazing up at the ceiling. I was unwilling to accept it. Who, after all, abuses their children in that way?

Because it came from family—the very individuals who were meant to defend your house, not destroy it—the betrayal was more painful than the damaged wallpaper.

However, I wasn’t dreaming. They were instructed to sketch on the wall by Jess. Once more. only to give them a prize.

I required evidence.

I had everything set for when Jess and the twins next visited. On the edge of the kids’ table in the den, I set my phone behind a pile of coloring books, pressed record, and turned to leave. Even though my heart was pounding the entire time, I kept my composure. As if nothing were wrong, I provided juice boxes and grinned.

As expected, a few minutes later, I could clearly hear the guys’ voices once more.

I couldn’t convince myself that I had misunderstood this time, so hearing it aloud made my stomach turn.

With a cheeky little chuckle, one of them exclaimed, “Mom said to draw on the wallpaper again so she gets more mad!”

My palms clenched into fists, but I remained silent.

I only needed that.

A few days passed before I set the trap. Another meal, a little more formal this time, was hosted by Chace and moi. Naturally, Jess was invited. Everyone was. At least that’s how I intended it to appear—it was somewhat of a peace gift.

Jess showed up as usual, boisterous, self-assured, and behaving as though the whole home was hers. She helped herself to a drink, threw her coat on the back of the couch, and ignored me.

She popped a grape from the snack plate into her mouth and remarked, “Smells good in here,” “Hope it’s better than last time.”

I gave a stiff smile. “We’ll see.”

Dinner passed in a routine manner. They were laughing and talking. Once more, the children were in the den, watching television. Jess was seated at the table as usual, conducting herself like the queen of the night and holding court as normal.

I bided my time until dessert arrived. Despite my trembling palms, I got up and cleared my throat.

“Jess, I need to ask you something.”

She glanced up, mid-cheesecake bite, fork in hand. “What’s up?”

My eyes swept across the table. Everyone had fallen silent.

“Why exactly did your boys say you told them to ruin our walls so you’d buy them LEGO?”

Her dish was clattered by her fork.

“What are you talking about?”

I took my phone out of my back pocket, pressed the voice memo, and unlocked it.

The boys’ voices rang out loud for everyone to hear, and the room fell silent.

“Mom said to create a masterpiece… she’ll buy us LEGO.”

I put the recording on hold.

Nobody spoke. Even the sound of cutlery clinking ceased. Jess appeared to have been struck.

She yelled, “They’re making things up!”

I looked her in the eyes while crossing my arms.

“Kids don’t make up that kind of detail, Jess. You laughed when they destroyed our wallpaper. Then you told me we could afford to redo it. Now I know why.”

With a calm yet powerful tone, Chace added his voice. “We gave you the benefit of the doubt. But this? You used your kids to damage our home.”

Jess’s face turned purple after turning crimson.

She yelled, “You don’t get it!” “I’m renting some dump with no backyard while you two live in this picture-perfect house! Do you know how hard it is? Do you know what it feels like watching my boys see everything you have that they don’t? You should’ve offered to let us live with you! Family shares!”

Around the table, there were gasps.

Carla, my mother-in-law, blinked as if she had been struck by a blast of cold water. Michael, my father-in-law, clenched his jaw, while Anna, Chace’s younger sister, simply gazed with her mouth hanging wide.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke evenly.

“You didn’t ask, Jess. You schemed. You had your boys vandalize our home because you were jealous.”

Jess got up so quickly that her chair squealed on the ground.

“This is unbelievable! I can’t believe you’re painting me as the villain. After everything I’ve done to hold this family together!”

Taking her purse, she strode to the door while shouting, “Come on, boys! We’re leaving. Ungrateful people, all of you!” behind her.

The twins followed her, silent and bewildered. Returning to the dessert table, one of them picked up a cookie. Jess hauled him along after swatting his hand.

The door slammed.

There was silence for a while. Then Carla let out a huge sigh.

“I thought you were being too hard on Jess before,” she muttered. “Not anymore.”

Chace gave a nod. “We tried. But that crossed a line.”

Max, his brother, gave a headshake. “Who does that? Who teaches their kids to ruin someone’s property just to score pity points?”

My father-in-law, who always goes to great lengths to support Jess, stated bluntly, “She’s lost her mind.”

For the first time, everyone fully understood what I had been going through all along, and the weight of their words fell upon me like an odd mixture of comfort and sadness.

The texts began to come in that evening.

“Are you okay?”

“Can’t believe she said that.”

“She really thought she could get away with it.”

After that, we stopped inviting Jess. Even if they don’t happen at our home or with her, family dinners nevertheless take place.

As is typically the case in a small community, word spread. I was honest with those who inquired about Jess’s absence from the upcoming family gathering. I wasn’t overly dramatic. I didn’t criticize. I simply said what transpired.

Then the worst part arrived.

I received a screenshot from Chace’s cousin a week later. On Facebook, Jess had shared a picture of the twins holding brand-new LEGO pieces. “Proud of my creative little artists! They earned it!” was the caption.

She herself gave us the evidence.

We had the wall redone for $450. This time, we went with a gentle sage green paint that was far less expensive, washable, and long-lasting. I trailed behind Chace with the roller as he carefully and slowly cut in the edges and taped off the trim.

The air was heavy with the smell of fresh paint, but it felt invigorating, as if we were beginning anew. When a song we both enjoyed started playing on one of our old playlists, Chace began singing off-key, which made me laugh so hard I almost dropped the roller.

I chided, “Don’t quit your day job,” as I re-inserted the roller into the tray.

He smiled. “You love it. Admit it.”

I continued to giggle and shook my head. “You’re lucky no one else can hear you.”

We both had green paint particles in our hair and on our arms by the time we were done. We stood back, exhausted and sweating, yet I felt a profound sense of calm when I gazed at the wall. We had transformed something unpleasant and unsightly into something of which we could be proud.

In a way, the room looked better, yet it looked different. It’s not only the new color. It was serene and clean.

I felt like our house was really ours again for the first time since Jess’s sabotage.

We stood in the entryway later that week, admiring our newly painted wall.

As he put his arm around my shoulders, Chace remarked, “It was worth every penny,”

I grinned. “Just to see her squirm.”

Because karma doesn’t always wait. It doesn’t require assistance. You don’t need to fight, yell, or plan a massive retaliation.

Sometimes it’s best to just hit record, remain composed, and let the facts speak for themselves.

Jess made her own mistakes. She also ensured that the echo was heard by all.