When Nicole’s stepmother phoned her to say she had a gift for her, Nicole went over with excitement. But once she saw what the so-called gift was, she found herself torn between keeping her father happy or pushing back in retaliation. In the end, she decided to accept it — but with a plan to turn it into something completely different. Eventually, Nicole was ready to enjoy the fruits of her own hard work.
You ever have one of those moments where you wish you had just trusted your instincts? That was me — standing in my stepmother’s basement, staring at the ugliest, most foul-smelling couch I had ever laid eyes on.
That morning, my stepmother Susan had called, saying she had a grand birthday surprise for me. She claimed it was a “priceless” gift that was too large for her to move on her own.
“You’re going to love it, Nicole!” she gushed. “It’s absolutely priceless! Come by later today, and we’ll show you.”
Now, let me be clear — Susan and I were never close. In fact, if I’m being honest, she barely tolerated me. So you can imagine my surprise when she offered me a gift at all.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Nic,” I muttered to myself as I got into the car.
I just wanted to see what it was. Part of me hoped she might, for once, be sincere.
When I got to my dad’s house, he told me Susan was busy.
“She’s sorting out the basement, honey,” he said. “She’s finally clearing out her clutter — about time, too. Come have a cup of tea.”
“No, let me see the gift first, Dad,” I replied. “I’m too curious!”
He chuckled, completely unaware of my apprehension. Susan had a history of strange gifts. Last year, she gave me socks and water bottles for my birthday. I wondered if this year would be any better.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll get Susan, and then we can have tea and some lemon cake. She baked it this morning.”
I paced in the foyer while my dad went downstairs. A few minutes later, I heard them coming up.
And then I saw it.
My dad and Susan emerged from the basement with a hideous, battered old couch. The fabric was torn and stained, and the stench was so strong it could knock a grown person out. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades.
“Happy Birthday!” Susan said with an exaggerated smile, as though she were handing me a brand-new car.
My dad watched me expectantly, clearly hoping I’d be pleased. But this thing was awful. I knew rejecting it would upset him — and Susan knew it too. I could see the smugness in her expression.
Swallowing my irritation, I called my boyfriend, Derek, to bring his van.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said.
“Thanks,” I replied. “They want it gone today, so I’ll take it home.”
“No problem, Nic,” he said. “I’m just gaming — I’ll wrap up soon.”
I knew exactly what was happening. Susan was using me to get rid of her junk. But for my dad’s sake, I decided to go along with it.
Derek arrived while I was finishing my tea, and we loaded the couch into the van. He followed me home so we could have dinner together afterward.
“This couch is rough,” he said. “Looks like it’s been through a hurricane or two.”
Originally, I planned to dump it on the curb for someone else to take. But something in me shifted. I decided I wouldn’t let Susan win.
I was going to restore the couch — give it a brand-new life. That decision kicked off a project I never expected would lead to something surprising.
First, I tackled the smell.
The stench was almost a living thing, getting worse by the hour. Luckily, I found a homemade deodorizing recipe online — white vinegar, water, and a few drops of lavender essential oil. I mixed it up, sprayed it liberally, and let it sit for a few hours.
The vinegar smell was intense at first, but once it faded, it took most of the odor with it.
Next came the stains.
Years of spills had left ugly marks, so I made a cleaning solution with baking soda, hydrogen peroxide, and a little dish soap. Using a soft brush, I scrubbed the worst spots and let the mixture sit before wiping it away. The stains began to lift, and I felt encouraged.
But the rips were another story.
“Nic, you’re going to need fabric,” Derek said while seasoning chicken in the kitchen. “You’ll have to do some creative patching.”
“I know,” I said. “Will you be fine here while I make a quick trip to town?”
He nodded.
“Why the rush?” he asked.
“Because if I don’t do it now, it’ll end up unfinished like half my other projects.”
“Go,” he laughed. “Dinner will be ready when you get back.”
At the thrift store, I found fabric that almost matched, along with decorative buttons, frills, and two throw pillows.
I used fabric glue for large holes and an iron-on mender for smaller ones. To make it look intentional, I added tufting and decorative buttons in strategic spots.
“Take a break, Nic,” Derek said later, pulling the last flatbread from the pan. “You can finish tomorrow.”
My arms ached from scrubbing, so I agreed.
The next morning, I went back to work with my steam cleaner, carefully going over every inch. Hours later, the couch looked like something from a luxury furniture showroom.
“Damn, Nic,” I said to myself. “You nailed it.”
Feeling proud, I listed it online for $5,000 — partly as a joke, just to see if anyone would bite.
When my phone pinged, I nearly dropped it. Someone named Maggie wanted to buy it.
Within a day, a buyer from the upscale part of town made an offer, and I accepted.
“This is perfect for my art studio!” Maggie said when she came to see it. “Why would you get rid of it?”
“I’m just redecorating,” I said. “It’s all yours now.”
A few days later, Susan stormed to my door, fuming. She had seen my listing and knew it sold for $5,000.
“You ungrateful brat! How dare you sell my gift?” she yelled.
“Susan, you gave me junk. I put in the work to restore it — that’s the only reason it’s worth anything now.”
She glared. “It was my couch! I want half the money — $2,500!”
I was stunned by her nerve.
“No. If you wanted the money, you should’ve sold it yourself. Every cent is from my effort.”
“You’ll regret this!” she snapped before leaving.
I haven’t seen her since, but I’m expecting a call from my dad.
What would you have done?