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

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 hitagain, like it had been hittingevery 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 helpface 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 want my entire life story," I joked, flipping through the pages. "I'm surprised they didn't ask what I had for breakfast in 1997." Sarah shota look that said, Behave, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Just fill it out, Richard." I tried to focus, but the questions felt overwhelming. Name, address, emergency contacts, insurance information- it all seemed so official, so adult.

"Do you think they'll still let us take the baby hif I accidentally spell something wrong?" I muttered, scribbling my signature.

"Richard," she said, this tfull-on smiling, "you're not getting out of this with sarcasm. Keep writing." Her voice was soft, though, and I could tell she was a little nervous too.

I glanced at her. "You okay?" She nodded but didn't meet my eyes. "Just feels... real. Like, really real." It did. Sitting there, filling out those forms, it hithow close we were to this baby actually being here. It wasn't sfar-off idea anymore. It was happening.

When we handed the forms back, the nurse smiled and gave us a little folder with hospital info and birthing class schedules.

I joked about how we should frit, our first official parenting paperwork. Sarah rolled her eyes, but she laughed, and I felt like I'd done my job.

Later, I stopped by a small takeout place to grab dinner while Sarah rested at home. The place smelled amazing, and I found myself lingering near the counter, scrolling on my phone while I waited for our order. "Richard?" I looked up to see Greg, an old friend, grinning at me. He looked a little older, a little rounder, but still the seasy going guy I remembered.

"Greg!" I shook his hand, genuinely glad to see him. "Man, it's been years. How've you been?" "Good, good," he said, leaning against the counter. "Married, three kids now. Life's chaos, but you know, in a good way." I raised an eyebrow. "Three kids? You're braver than me. We're just gearing up for our first, and I'm already terrified." Greg laughed, the kind of belly laugh that made everyone around smile. "Oh, man, you're in for it. But it's the best kind of terrifying. Trust me." He started sharing stories-how his youngest once painted the dog with peanut butter, how he'd accidentally put a diaper on backward in the middle of the night.

"You just have to laugh," he said, wiping his eyes. "Because if you don't, you'll cry, and nobody's got tfor that." It was weirdly comforting, hearing his stories. Parenting wasn't going to be perfect, and maybe that was okay.

When my food was ready, Greg patted my shoulder. "You'll do fine, Richard. Just remember: no one knows what they're doing. You figure it out as you go." At home, Sarah was curled up on the couch, a blanket over her legs and a soft glow from the lamp beside her. She looked up when I cin, her face lighting up at the sight of the takeout bags. "You're a hero," she said, reaching for the food.

"Don't I know it," I teased, handing her a container.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of forks scraping against plastic the only noise in the room.

"You okay?" I asked after a while. She'd been quiet since the hospital, and I could tell something was on her mind.

She nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Just thinking. Today made it feel... close, you know? Like, this is really happening."

I set my fork down, leaning back in my chair. "Yeah, I know what youn mean. Filling out those forms, sitting in that office-it kind of hittoo. But it's a good thing, right?" She looked at me, her eyes soft. "It is. It's just... a lot. But I'm glad we're in it together." Her words warmedin a way I couldn't quite explain. I reached over, taking her hand. "Always." That night, I couldn't stop thinking about Greg's stories. About how parenting wasn't about getting everything right, but about figuring it out as you went.

When I finally drifted off to sleep, my mind was still swirling with thoughts of the future.

I dreamed about the baby. It was one of those dreams that felt real, like I could actually feel the tiny weight in my arms.

I looked down, and there was this little face staring up at me, completely helpless and completely perfect.

I felt this overwhelming mix of emotions-love, fear, joy, responsibility-all crashing overat once.

When I woke up, the dream stayed with me, lingering in the corners of my mind. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling my heart m el pounding in a way that wasn't unpleasant but was definitely new. Sarah stirred beside me, her breathing soft and steady. I turned to look at her, my chest tightening with a kind of love I didn't know I was capable of. "Morning," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Morning," I whispered back, brushing her hair out of her face.

I didn't tell her about the dream, not yet. But as I got up and started the day, I carried it with me, this quiet excitement bubbling under the surface. I was going to be a dad. And for the first time, that thought didn't feel so scary. It felt like a gift.