Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart by Hayley

Chapter 137 Richard pov.

The sound of forks clinking against plates filled the room, but the lunch conversation-or lack of it-was the real noise.

Marina had planted herself at the head of the table, her voice carrying on as though she were giving a lecture. Sarah had been unusually quiet, her gaze mostly fixed on her plate, and I couldn't decide if she was counting bites or just trying to tune Marina out.

"Oh, Sarah," Marina chimed, cutting into her grilled chicken with exaggerated precision, "I couldn't help but notice the bread basket. You know, too much bread isn't great for the baby." I paused mid-bite, the crust of my sandwich suddenly feeling heavier in my hand. Sarah's fork lingered on her plate, but she didn't look up. She was too polite to retort, or maybe she was just too tired of fighting.

"I think she's managing her diet perfectly," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "The doctor didn't mention anything about cutting carbs." Marina smiled thinly, the kind of smile you knew wasn't real. "Oh, I'm sure. But doctors don't know everything. When Charlotte was expecting, she followed swonderful advice from an old friend of ours-an experienced midwife. You know, natural wisdom sometimes beats all this modern science." Charlotte is her younger sister. For whatever reason, she had decided to not get married but made it a point to be a marriage expert and relationship counselor.

Sarah took a sip of her water, her lips pursed, still saying nothing. I hated seeing her like this.

Usually, she had a witty comeback ready, but Marina had a knack for disarming people, wrapping her critiques in a tone that made it hard to call her out without looking defensive.

"Modern science has gotten us this far," I said, smiling wider than I felt. "And we're pretty happy with how things are going." Marina turned her attention to her plate, but her silence didn't feel like a retreat. It felt like she was gearing up for her next point.

Sarah's eyes flicked to mine for the briefest moment-a silent "thank you" that made my irritation worth it.

Lunch had ended, but Marina's advice hadn't. As Sarah settled onto the couch with her tea, Marina hovered like a self-appointed pregnancy guru.

"Sarah," Marina began, her tone drenched in concern, "you should really consider prenatal yoga. It's great for flexibility and breathing. You don't want labor to be harder than it needs to be." Sarah didn't even look up. "I'm staying active," she said, her voice even.

"But are you doing enough?" Marina pressed, settling herself on the armrest of the couch. "Walking is good, but you need something more focused. A proper routine. My sister swore by yoga, and her delivery was smooth as butter." I cleared my throat from where I stood near the window, fiddling with a loose curtain tie. "She walks every day. I think that counts for something, doesn't it?" Marina turned her sharp gaze on me, her smile almost condescending. "Of course, Richard. But it's not just about physical health. Mental and emotional well-being are just as important. Pregnant women need to avoid stress, you know." The irony was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Sarah's knuckles tightened around her mug, and I could see her patience thinning by the second.

"And I think we're doing okay with that," I replied, my tone firm but not aggressive. "We're trying to keep things calm and positive." Marina chuckled lightly. "Well, you're a man, Richard. No offense, but you don't really understand what women go through during pregnancy. It's a full-body transformation, and Sarah's at the center of it." "That's why we listen to the doctor and follow their advice," I said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "We trust the professionals." Marina wavedoff as though I'd just said something cute. "Oh, I'm sure. But a little extra guidance from someone with experience never hurts." That night, I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sarah brush her hair at the vanity. The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the bristles against her hair.

She hadn't said much after Marina's latest round of unsolicited wisdom, but I knew her silence wasn't peace-it was simmering frustration.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

Sarah glanced atin the mirror, her expression tired but not entirely defeated. "I'm fine," she said, though the faint crease in her brow toldotherwise.

I stood and walked over, resting my hands gently on her shoulders. "I know she's getting under your skin. If you want, I'll talk to her tomorrow. Tell her to back off little:"Sarah sighed, tilting her head back to look up at me. "It's not that simple, Richard. She's your cousin. I don't want to cause a rift in your family. She thinks she's helping." "Helping?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "By implying you're not doing enough for the baby? That's not help, Sarah. That's interference." She smiled faintly, reaching up to touch my hand. "You're sweet, but let's not blow this out of proportion. She's...

a lot, but I can handle it. Besides, she'll only be here for a few more days, right?"

I frowned, not entirely convinced.

"Handling it doesn't mean you have to put up with it. If she says something that bothers you, yʊum ve have every right to shut it down. Or tell me, and I'll do it for you." Sarah chuckled softly, standing to face me. "I appreciate the knight-in-shining-armor act, but I don't want to make waves. Let's just see how tomorrow goes." I nodded, though the tightness in my chest remained. I hated feeling powerless, watching her endure Marina's passive-aggressive comments without stepping in more forcefully.

But Sarah had a point-Marina was family, and family dynamics were rarely simple.

As we climbed into bed, I resolved to •how, keep a closer eye on things. If Marina pushed too far, I wouldn't hesitate to draw the line. For how, though, I'd respect Sarah's wishes. After all, this was her journey, her battle to fight or retreat from. My job was to make sure she knew I'd be there no matter what. "Goodnight," Sarah murmured, her voice soft and steady.

"Goodnight," I replied, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness, but my thoughts were anything but quiet.

Marina might have meant well, but her well-meaning advice was starting to feel more like a storm on the horizon.