Sitting on the floor, my son Jack*, then eight, looked up from his Lego.
'This is Mummy's friend,' I told him. 'Nice to meet you,' Ashley, then 31, said, as my boy smiled back. I'd felt nervous about introducing Jack to the new man in my life but, before long, the two of them had their heads together building a tower.
It was summer 2014, and I'd been seeing Ashley for around three months. We'd matched on a dating app but it turned out that we went to the same gym. Ashley was gorgeous, with rippling biceps, but, despite his strength, he was a sweetheart, whisking me out for romantic meals and now happily playing with Jack. It was still early days in our relationship, but Ashley was fitting neatly into our lives.
Then, a month later, Jack was in his bedroom while I made dinner in the kitchen. As I chopped veg, me and Ashley started to bicker over something silly and, suddenly, I felt a fist slam into my back. Ashley had punched me - hard. The force knocked the wind out of me and, in shock, I ran upstairs and shut myself in my bedroom. I couldn't believe that Ashley had hurt me, and I just sat on my bed in pain and bewilderment. Had that really just happened?
Soon, I heard Ashley's voice outside. 'I'm sorry,' he grovelled.
Eventually, I came out, not wanting Jack to notice the fuss, and Ashley promised that it would never happen again. I forgave him, but a part of me wondered if the man I'd fallen for was really such a sweetheart after all. Still, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, telling myself that it was just a one-off. I tried to convince myself he didn't know his own strength, and that maybe he'd just meant it as a tap?
CLOTHES CHOICES
This story is from the January 06, 2025 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
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This story is from the January 06, 2025 edition of WOMAN'S OWN.
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