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

Sarah pov.

My second trimester.

The nursery had become my personal Everest. Every time I walked by that half-finished room, I felt it mocking me-chaotic and incomplete, just like my confidence.

The crib was still in its box, the curtains were too short, and the tiny clothes Richard had folded with so much care looked lost in the clutter.

I stood in the doorway that morning, holding a paint swatch in one hand and a baby blanket in the other. "Alright," I muttered to myself. "Today's the day."

But where to begin? The mountain of choices loomed in front of me, each decision feeling like it carried the weight of the world.

Should I pick a light color? A dark one? A theme? Should I do the walls in stripes or leave it neutral?

Everything felt like a big deal, even though logically, I knew it probably wasn't. Was I overthinking it? Probably.

I took a deep breath and stood still for a moment. I felt like a million thoughts were swirling around my head at once, and none of them were helping.

The baby was coming soon-whether the room was ready or not. Why was I letting something like paint and furniture take up so much space in my mind?

I should have felt excitement. Instead, I felt paralyzed by choices. Shouldn't I be making these decisions with ease?

Other parents seemed so confident-maybe too confident. They knew exactly what they wanted. Not me.

I sat down on the floor, my legs suddenly weak under the weight of it all. Maybe I should have let Richard take the lead on this.

He always seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. Maybe I was just too tired. Or too emotional.

I was pregnant, after all. But that thought didn't make me feel better. It only made me feel like I was making excuses.

That's when I pulled out my phone. I needed a little outside perspective. Zoe always had a way of cutting through the noise.

could talk me down from anything. I dialed her number and waited, watching the cluttered room as

cheerful voice cracked through the phone, her usual energy lighting up the

but failing miserably. "I'm standing here in the nursery, holding this paint swatch, and I feel like I have no idea what

be. "Okay, first of all,

feels like the end of

this is normal. You're pregnant. Of course you're overwhelmed. But that's exactly why I'm here to talk you down.

decision. And what

is 'good enough'? A nursery is just a room. It's not going

that it's a space where you and the baby feel comfortable, and where you're going to spend a lot of time together. That's

we'll figure it out. It's just a

at the color samples again, feeling a bit lost in the choices. "I was thinking of sage green, but then

and won't give you a headache every time you walk in the room. You'll be looking at it a lot, so it better

decision down. See

I need to figure out furniture. Crib placement, changing table... it's like there are a thousand decisions

to you. No one else is going to care where it is except you

I knew she couldn't see me.

up in all the tiny details. It's easy to want everything perfect, but perfection doesn't exist. Your baby won't care if you go with a pink crib or a wooden one. They just want your love and

problem. I'm here for you. Now, go

at that. "I'll

"Good. You've got this."

***

words still echoing in my mind, I felt the weight on my shoulders begin to lift. I knew it wasn't going to be perfect, but that was okay. The nursery would get done, one step at a time. I could

of things I had yet to put together. "Hey," Richard

"Yeah, I've

he said, his eyes lighting up as

advice. She said

hair. "That sounds

think I'm going to focus on the

"Sounds like a plan."