After my painful divorce from Roger, I thought my life had hit rock bottom. We were married for 15 years and shared two amazing daughters, Veronica, 14, and Casey, 12. The breakup was tough — endless arguments, cold silences, and Roger’s late nights eventually tore us apart. When we finally split, I got custody of the girls while Roger had weekend visits. Two years later, I was ready to move on and find love again, hoping it would also bring some stability to my daughters’ lives. But I had no idea what was really going on behind the scenes.

Every time I introduced a new boyfriend to my daughters, things seemed fine at first. But shortly after, the relationship would fall apart. David, my most recent boyfriend, had seemed perfect — kind, considerate, and interested in getting to know my family. But the night he came over for dinner, everything changed.

Halfway through the meal, David suddenly went pale. Without explanation, he stood up, grabbed his coat, and left. “David, what’s wrong?” I asked, following him to the door. But he didn’t respond. He just left, leaving me standing there confused and hurt. Veronica and Casey sat quietly, refusing to meet my eyes.

“What happened, girls?” I asked, my voice shaky. But they stayed silent, staring at their plates. That night, I tried calling David multiple times, only to receive a single text message the next morning: “It’s over, Melinda. I can’t marry into this. Goodbye.”

My heart broke all over again. This wasn’t the first time. Earlier that year, Shawn had also bolted after meeting my daughters. And before him, there was Victor. Each relationship ended the same way, leaving me wondering what I was doing wrong.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, I confided in my friend and colleague, Jose. “It’s like every guy I date disappears after meeting my daughters,” I told him, on the brink of tears.

“Come on, Melinda, it can’t be that bad,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. But I was serious, and eventually, he agreed to help me figure out what was going on.

@abbymedcalfphd If your kids are having difficulty getting used to your new partner, focus on the pace. #datingafterdivorce #stepparenting #divorcedparents #parenting ♬ original sound – Dr. Abby Medcalf

A few weeks later, I asked Jose to pretend to be my new boyfriend and join us for dinner. When I introduced him to Veronica and Casey, their polite smiles quickly faded. “Jose, why don’t you talk to the girls while I finish setting the table?” I suggested, hoping to observe what was really happening. As I pretended to busy myself in the kitchen, I kept an ear on their conversation.

When I returned, I noticed Jose’s face had turned ghostly pale, and he was nervously gripping his fork. Dinner couldn’t end fast enough, and as soon as it did, Jose made a hasty exit. That night, I called him, desperate for answers.

“Jose, what happened? What did the girls say to you?” I asked, barely able to keep my voice steady.

“Melinda, we need to talk in person,” he replied, his voice tense. My heart sank, knowing whatever he had to say couldn’t be good.

The next morning, I found Jose at work before our shift started. “Tell me everything,” I insisted.

“Your daughters think you and Roger will get back together,” he confessed. “They’ve been scaring off your boyfriends on purpose.”

I was stunned. “What? Why would they do that?”

“They told me awful things about you,” Jose continued. “They said you’re terrible at cooking, that you’re a shopaholic, and even that you’ve brought home a different guy every night. It’s all lies, Melinda. They just want their old life back.”

Tears streamed down my face as I listened. That evening, I confronted Veronica and Casey. “Girls, we need to talk. Now,” I said firmly. They exchanged worried glances but finally sat down.

“I know what you’ve been doing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’ve been lying to my boyfriends to chase them away. Why?”

At first, they denied everything, but when I threatened to cut off their allowances and privileges, they finally broke down. “Mom, we just want you and Dad to get back together,” Veronica confessed, her voice cracking with emotion. “We miss having both our parents.”

My heart shattered as Casey nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with tears. “We thought if you were single, maybe you and Dad would work things out,” she whispered.

I hugged them both, tears streaming down my own face. “I understand why you’re hurting, but this isn’t the way to fix things,” I told them softly. “You can’t keep sabotaging my relationships. It’s not fair to me or to the people I care about.”

We talked late into the night, with me reassuring them that while I understood their feelings, I also needed to move on. “But, Mom, is it really too late to try with Dad?” Veronica asked, her voice hopeful.

I sighed deeply. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But what I do know is that we need to be honest with each other from now on. No more secrets, okay?”

They nodded, and I tried to lighten the mood by joking, “And remember, I’ll be just as tough on your boyfriends one day.”

The conversation with my daughters lingered in my mind, and the next day, I decided to reach out to Roger. “Hey, can we talk? It’s about the girls,” I said when he picked up.

Roger agreed, suggesting we meet at our old coffee shop. When we sat down, I told him everything. “The girls have been pushing away every man I’ve tried to date because they still hope we’ll get back together.”

Roger looked shocked. “I had no idea they were struggling like this,” he said, rubbing his temples.

“I think it’s worth a shot for their sake,” I suggested cautiously. “Maybe we can try counseling and see if there’s anything left worth saving.”

Roger hesitated but finally nodded. “Alright, let’s try. For the girls.”

In the weeks that followed, Roger and I attended counseling sessions. It wasn’t easy, but we were both committed to trying. The girls were thrilled when we told them about our efforts, their faces lighting up with hope.

One evening, as we all sat together for dinner, I realized how far we’d come. Veronica smiled and said, “This is really nice, Mom and Dad.”

“It really is,” I agreed, feeling Roger’s hand squeeze mine under the table. We still had a long road ahead, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, we could piece our family back together.