My Wife’s Dad Destroyed Her Home Library – I Didn’t Let It Slide

When a father’s fury almost dashed his daughter’s hopes of becoming a writer, her spouse came up with a clever scheme to exact revenge. Rather than seeking retribution, he opted to impart a profound lesson about the actual cost of crushing someone’s passion, and in the process, he rebuilt more than just her library.

Emma, my spouse, has always aspired to be a writer. For as long as I can remember, she has been pursuing her ambition and writing whenever she has any free time. She has been working really hard for the past five years, managing a demanding career and still finding time to write late at night.

She made a significant choice a few weeks ago. She chose to give up her career to devote herself full-time to writing. I was ecstatic for her. She has always been there for me, even during the few years I was unemployed. She never once voiced any complaints. It was my turn to help her now. I had faith in her, even though we both knew it would be difficult. I knew she was capable.

I thought her father would be concerned and distant when she told him about her choice. Frank, Emma’s father, is a constructor. Janet, her mother, is a cook. They have been hands-on workers all of their lives. They value the kind of hard effort that wears you out at the end of the day. They were unable to comprehend her need to express herself creatively.

In the hopes that it would soften him, we chose to tell him after he had a few beers.

Frank yelled, “Emma, this is ridiculous,” projecting his normal volume. “It’s not a true job to write. For what purpose are you discarding everything? A pastime?”

I made an attempt to intervene. “Maybe we should all calm down and talk about this tomorrow?”

With a gleam in his eyes, Frank faced me. “Leave this place! This is my daughter and I talking about it. I was aware that such little books wouldn’t be beneficial.

Emma got to her feet, shaking palms. No, it goes beyond our relationship. I’ve made my choice; this is my life.”

Frank yelled, “You’re making a mistake.” With a smash of the door, he stormed from the house. Emma fell into the sofa, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Sitting next to her, I felt powerless. “He’s just angry. He will change his mind.”

I called Frank later and recommended that he spend the night in our guest room. He was too inebriated to drive home. He complained but nodded.

I headed out early for work the following morning, thinking that things would calm down. When they were both more relaxed, I assumed they would discuss it. I was unaware that the situation would only worsen.

I knew something wasn’t right when I arrived home that evening. It was too quiet in the house. Emma was nowhere to be found when I called out for her. She was seated on the floor in her library when I found her. My heart broke seeing that.

Her books, which she had accumulated over the years and which served as inspiration for her writing, were destroyed. There were pages all over the place. Every book has been taken out of the shelf or destroyed.

“Emma,” I knelt next to her and whispered. “What happened?”

With tears flowing down her cheeks, she glanced up at me. He returned this morning. After another argument between us, he did this. He ruined everything. I know I’m an adult and his viewpoint shouldn’t count, but it’s ridiculous still.

I had a rush of rage and despair. I gave her a strong hug while attempting to contain my own tears. “Emma, I’m very sorry. We’ll address this.

Emma gave me a painful look as she glanced at me. “How?”

I inhaled deeply as my resolve grew stronger. “Believe me. I’ll force him to observe.”

I knew exactly what I had to do after that.

I stayed up that night, my mind racing, while Emma slept next me, weary from sobbing. I realized that I could not ignore this. Frank could not simply replace what he had taken from her, something priceless. I didn’t want to become like him, but I also needed to make him realize the seriousness of what he had done. Taking everything from him would not benefit anyone.

I considered the tools Frank had. They brought him delight and pride. He’d acquired them one by one throughout the years. In his garage, every tool had its own spot, meticulously organized on the wall or in specially made cabinets.

Like Emma’s books meant to her, I understood how much they meant to him. That’s when it occurred to me to take his tools away and conceal them somewhere secure rather than destroying them. He had to experience what it was like to lose something dear to his heart.

I went to the store the following day and purchased the strongest safe I could find. After putting it in the back of my truck, I headed over to Frank and Janet’s residence. When I got there, Janet was outside in the garden.

“Hey, Tom,” she smiled and said hello. “What brings you here?”

I said in a firm voice, “I need to grab something from the garage.” “Is Frank around?”

“No, he’s at work,” she answered, appearing a little perplexed. “Go on in.”

With a nod, I headed for the garage. Even though my heart was racing, I knew I had to do this. I began gathering up all of his tools and put them carefully in the safe I had purchased specifically for this purpose. Almost an hour was needed to lock everything up.

After it was finished, I chained the safe to the floor and wrote the following letter atop: “I assumed you wouldn’t need these anymore because you like to destroy dreams. You’ll have to reconstruct everything you destroyed in Emma’s library, right down to the last page, if you want your tools back.”

I stepped back and inhaled deeply. Frank needed to understand the repercussions of his actions, even if I didn’t want to harm him. My head spinning with feelings, I said farewell to Janet, walked out of the garage, and headed home.

Frank picked up the phone quite quickly. My phone started ringing as soon as I left the front door. Taking a deep breath, I responded.

“Hey, Tom! How on earth did you accomplish that? Anger was vibrating in his voice.

“Frank, please calm down,” I murmured, attempting to maintain my composure.

“You’ve secured my equipment! Every single one of them! “Are you crazy?” he cried out.

“I just did what I had to do,” I firmly stated. “You broke Emma’s dream apart. Something she’s been working on for years was ruined by you. You know what needs to be done if you want your tools back.”

He yelled, “You’re insane!” “I’m not working at all! Return my tools to me, or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what, Frank?” I cut in, speaking softly but clearly. Bullying won’t get you out of this. Do you want your instruments back? Restore her library. Express regret to your daughter.”

On the other end of the line, there was only labored breathing. After that, he hung up. I was aware of his rage, but I also understood that he was powerless. His livelihood depended on those tools. He could not just swap them out.

Emma gave me an anxious look. “What did he say?”

I sighed, “Exactly what I expected,” “He’s insane. But he’ll change his mind. He must.

There was silence for a time. However, a knock on the door followed. I looked at Emma and then I went to answer it. Frank was standing there, looking worn out and defeated.

Quietly, he said, “Can I come in?”

I gave a nod and moved aside. Uncomfortably, he glanced about before focusing on Emma.

With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, he apologized. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

Emma fixed her gaze on him, tears welling up in her eyes. “Dad, you ruined everything. Why not?”

“I felt upset,” he said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t get it. However, I’m prepared to set things right. I will assist in rebuilding your library. If it’s okay with you.”

After a protracted period of silence, Emma nodded. “Okay.”

Emma was cautious at first, but I could see the hurt in her eyes go away as they worked side by side. Frank was not flawless, but he made an effort. All she needed was that.

The library appeared even better after they were finished. Frank had made a special effort to locate every book he had destroyed. The redesigned shelves were more robust and thoughtfully arranged. Emma stood in the center of the space, surveying her surroundings while sporting a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Dad,” she muttered.

Frank gave a misty eyed nod. Emma, I’m proud of you. I simply had no idea how to express it.”

I felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders when Emma gave him a hug. She had returned, stronger and more resolved than before.

I can tell she’s going to succeed when I watch her typing away at her most recent story in her library. Not only because to her talent, but also because she have the courage to pursue her goals. And now she has our combined support behind her.