Arrogant student slapped an old woman unaware who she was until something unexpected happened to her…

So when Joy came home, her aunt pounced on her.

“Where are you getting money from? Are you sleeping with men?”

Joy opened her mouth, but the warning held her tongue shut.

Her silence became fuel.

And the village began to talk louder.

Joy lost sleep. Lost peace. Lost Tracy completely. Their friendship cracked like dry ground.

Then, one day, Tracy came back smiling with apology in her mouth like honey and a bottle in her hand.

“Joy… I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Joy’s heart—soft as always—wanted peace. She agreed to forgive.

Tracy poured the drink.

“It’s not alcoholic,” she promised. “Just sweet.”

Joy sipped. Then sipped again.

Her head grew light. Her tongue loosened. Her laughter came too easily.

And Tracy leaned in, voice soft as a trap.

“Joy… that day you followed the old woman… what happened?”

Joy giggled, half-dreaming.

“She gave me… a pot…”

Tracy’s eyes flashed.

“A pot? Where is it?”

Joy pointed lazily.

“Under my bed…”

Tracy didn’t hesitate. She grabbed it and disappeared into the night.

Joy woke up with a heavy head and a hole in her memory.

Something felt wrong in her spirit. She rushed out to Tracy’s house—

and stopped dead on the road.

The old woman stood there again, leaning on her stick, eyes deep like they could see through walls and lies.

“My daughter,” she said quietly, “there is trouble.”

Joy’s voice trembled.

“Mama… what trouble?”

“That your friend Tracy… she has stolen your pot.”

Joy’s body went cold.

“No… it can’t be.”

The old woman nodded.

“She is already on her way to the city.”

Joy’s tears fell hot and helpless.

“What will I do?”

The old woman held her hand gently.

“You trusted someone you loved. That is not your sin. But evil does not run forever. It always meets judgment.”

In the city, Tracy locked herself in a cheap room and placed the pot on the floor like stolen treasure. She touched it three times.

“Give me ten million!”

Money appeared.

Tracy screamed, covered her mouth, and then laughed until she cried. She spent like madness—hair, clothes, phones, club nights, strangers calling her “madam.” She sprayed money like she was spraying pain.

The next day, she wanted more.