Все главы Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart : Глава 141 - Глава 150

Richard pov.The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the kitchen table. Marina was seated there, her coffee cup cradled in her hands as she scrolled on her phone. For once, there was silence—a brief reprieve after days of subtle jabs and unsolicited advice. I noticed her suitcase by the door and felt a flicker of relief. Marina’s departure was imminent, but as much as I wanted to celebrate the end of this stressful visit, a part of me wanted to ensure we ended things on good terms.She was still family, after all, even if she had an uncanny knack for pushing Sarah’s buttons. “Heading out soon, Marina?” I asked casually, leaning against the counter with my own coffee. She looked up and gave a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I should be on the road in about an hour. It’s a long drive back.” I nodded. “Safe travels. Do you need anything for the trip? Snacks? Water?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, no, I’m fine. You and Sarah have been… accommodat

Richard povThe hum of the kettle filled the kitchen as I leaned against the counter, waiting for it to boil. It had been a peaceful morning—no sharp comments, no awkward silences—just Sarah and me enjoying the calm. But as my phone buzzed on the counter, the name flashing on the screen made my stomach twist: Marina. I hesitated for a second before picking up. “Hey, Marina,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Richard, hi! I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” she chirped. Her voice was overly sweet, the kind of tone people use when they’re about to dive into something uncomfortable. “No, it’s fine. What’s up?” I replied, keeping my voice even. “I just wanted to check in after I left. You know, make sure there’s no hard feelings. I feel like things got... tense while I was there.” I gripped the counter, reminding myself to stay calm. “It’s been fine. We’re good.” She sighed, a dramatic sort of sigh that made my eye twitch. “Look, I know Sarah can be a bit... sensitive.

Richard pov.The parenting workshop was held in a cozy community center, the kind of place that smelled faintly of crayons and coffee. The walls were plastered with cheerful posters about child safety and breastfeeding tips, which I pretended to read while we waited for the session to begin. My hands fidgeted with the pamphlet they’d handed us at the door. It had a smiling cartoon baby on the cover and the words Parenting: You’ve Got This! in bold, bubbly letters. Somehow, I wasn’t convinced. Sarah sat beside me, flipping through the same pamphlet, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Did you know that swaddling can reduce colic?” she asked, nudging me with her elbow. “Nope,” I said, glancing sideways at her. “But I guess we’re about to become swaddling experts, huh?” She laughed, a sound I hadn’t heard enough of in the last few days. Ever since Marina had left, Sarah had been quieter, more introspective. I could tell she was still processing everything, but we’d both been to

Richard pov.The morning was off to a slow start, but I didn’t mind. Sarah looked like she needed the extra few minutes in bed. I watched her for a moment, her hand resting on her growing belly, her hair messy from sleep. It hit me again, like it had been hitting me every day for months now: I was going to be a dad. “Richard,” she mumbled, her eyes barely open. “Don’t stare. It’s creepy.” I chuckled, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “It’s not staring, it’s admiring. Totally different.” She groaned, throwing the blanket over her head. “Go admire the coffee machine.” She wasn’t wrong. We had a hospital pre-registration appointment later, and I figured a cup of coffee might help me face the mountain of paperwork that probably awaited us. The hospital was about as inviting as hospitals could be—sterile, bright, and slightly intimidating. We sat in a small office, and a nurse handed us a clipboard full of forms. I took one look at the stack and whistled. “Looks like they wa

Richard pov Joining Sarah for a prenatal fitness class wasn’t exactly what I’d pictured when I thought about preparing for fatherhood. In my mind, getting ready meant assembling cribs, reading a few books, and maybe practicing how to swaddle a baby without them looking like a crumpled burrito. But when Sarah brought it up, I saw the glint of hope in her eyes, the one that made it impossible to say no. “Are you sure you want me there?” I’d asked the night before, already mentally rehearsing my excuses for backing out. “Of course,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “It’ll be good for us. And honestly, I think you’ll enjoy it more than you expect.” Enjoy it? That was a stretch, but I didn’t argue. I wanted to be the kind of partner who showed up, even when it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory. The studio was bright and cheerful, with soft instrumental music playing in the background. It smelled faintly of lavender, the kind of scent that screamed calm, though my ne