I used to think I was the kind of person who could just go with the flow—avoid conflict and keep things pleasant. But that changed the morning Karen knocked on my door.

“Hey, Lena! I’m so sorry to bother you this early,” Karen said, flashing an overly sweet smile.

I was still in my pajamas, halfway through my first cup of coffee. My eight-year-old daughter, Sophie, was upstairs getting dressed for school. A surprise visit from the neighbor was the last thing I expected.

“No problem, Karen,” I replied, stifling a yawn. “What’s up?”

“I have an early meeting today, and I was wondering if you could take Emily to school with Sophie. Just this once? I’m really in a bind.”

I hesitated, unsure if I could juggle two kids on the morning rush. But then I remembered how much Sophie liked Emily, and how sweet Emily always was, so I shrugged it off. “Sure, I can drop them both off.”

Karen’s face lit up like I’d just handed her a winning lottery ticket. “You’re a lifesaver, Lena. I owe you one!”

I waved it off, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a quick favor.”

But that quick favor turned into something much more.

The next morning, there was Karen again, all smiles. “I have another early meeting today. Can you take Emily again? She loves riding with Sophie, and it’s such a help.”

This went on for weeks. Each morning, Karen would show up, her gratitude still there but starting to feel more like expectation. I didn’t mind at first—Emily was well-behaved, and Sophie loved having her along—but it wasn’t long before I realized this had become routine. Karen wasn’t asking anymore; she was assuming.

One particularly chaotic morning, I’d hit snooze too many times. Sophie couldn’t find her shoes, the cat knocked over a vase, and I hadn’t even brushed my hair. Just as I scrambled to get us out the door, my phone buzzed—Karen, again: Can you take Emily today?

I stared at the message, frustration boiling over. Then, I had an idea. I texted back: Actually, we’re running late today. Can you take Sophie instead?

The reply was immediate: Sorry, the car’s too full today.

I blinked at the screen. Too full? Karen drove an SUV—there was no way it was “too full” for one extra child. She was lying.

That was the moment I realized I’d been played. Karen had taken advantage of my kindness, and now she didn’t even have the decency to help out when I needed it. My goodwill had been mistaken for weakness, but I wasn’t about to let it slide.

The next morning, the text came again: Can you take Emily today? I could practically picture her smug smile as she sent it, fully expecting me to say yes. And I did say yes—only this time, I had a plan.

I called upstairs to Sophie. “Hey, how about we stop at Rosie’s Donuts on the way to school today?”

“Really? On a school day?” Sophie squealed, her excitement making me smile.

“Yep, a special treat.”

As expected, Karen was waiting outside with Emily, as cheerful as ever. “Thanks again, Lena. You’re such a lifesaver.”

“No problem,” I replied, hiding my smirk. As the girls climbed into the car, I turned left at the next intersection, heading straight for the donut shop.

Emily noticed immediately. “Miss Richards? Aren’t we supposed to go the other way?”

“We’re making a quick stop for donuts this morning, Emily,” I said with a wink.

Emily looked nervous. “Won’t we be late?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” I reassured her. But truthfully, I wasn’t in any rush. We took our time at Rosie’s, letting the girls pick out their favorite treats. Sophie was over the moon, and I savored the moment.

By the time we finally left the donut shop, the roads were quieter, and we were cutting it close. I dropped the girls off at school just as the staff was wrapping up the morning drop-off. I knew Karen would be fuming.

Sure enough, when I got home, Karen was waiting on her porch, arms crossed. “Lena, what happened? Emily was late for school! I thought you were dropping them off on time!”

I met her glare with a calm smile. “Oh, sorry about that, Karen. We made a quick stop for donuts. You know how mornings can be.”

Karen’s jaw clenched. “I see,” she said through gritted teeth. “Well, try not to let it happen again.”

I shrugged. “Or maybe you could take Emily yourself sometime?”

Without another word, Karen turned and stormed inside, clearly seething. But I felt a wave of satisfaction wash over me. I’d stood up for myself, and it felt good.

That was the last time Karen ever asked me to drive Emily to school. From then on, she made sure to get her daughter ready early and handle the school drop-off herself. She avoided me whenever possible, clearly embarrassed by her behavior, but I didn’t mind.

I’d finally learned that being a good neighbor didn’t mean being a doormat. Sometimes, you’ve got to stand up for yourself—and maybe enjoy a donut or two along the way.