She Almost Took Him Back — But I’d Seen His True Colors

When my daughter Tasha lost her job last year, I opened my home to her and her four kids. I covered food, school costs, doctor visits—everything—while she tried to get back on her feet. It wasn’t easy, but we managed. Then on her 26th birthday, she sat us down and said the words I feared most: “I’m going to get back together with Howard.” Howard, the man who once seemed charming but quickly turned violent. The man who shoved her over a spilled drink, who left bruises she tried to hide, who once pushed JJ’s high chair across the room.

The night that happened, she finally left him and came to me, terrified and trembling. So hearing she wanted to return to him felt like being punched in the chest. She insisted he had changed—was sober, working, apologetic. But days later, he didn’t even show up to their meeting. Soon she slipped back into old habits: waiting on messages, blaming herself, hoping he’d be better.