Neighbors can become friends or foes, but I never expected mine to turn into both overnight. After my husband, Silas, left six years ago, I, Prudence, 48, had to raise our two kids alone while working remotely. Life was tough, but I managed.

One day, Emery, a new neighbor in her early 30s, knocked on my door, asking for a favor. “Can I ask you for a huge favor?” she said, explaining she needed help cleaning her trashed house after a party. She promised $250 for the job, which I accepted despite my tight schedule.

I worked for two days scrubbing her mess, but when Emery returned, she denied our agreement. “Payment? What payment?” she asked, dismissing me. Furious, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Later, I went to the local dump, filled my car with trash, and drove to Emery’s house. Using the key she had forgotten to take back, I dumped the garbage all over her clean home. As I left, I felt both relief and guilt.

That evening, Emery pounded on my door, yelling about the mess. I calmly denied any involvement, knowing she had no proof. She threatened to call the police but left in frustration. I knew I crossed a line, but sometimes you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means getting your hands dirty