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

Richard pov.

That morning, I woke up with a grand idea, one of those plans that felt brilliant in my head but had the potential to crash and burn in execution.

I was going to cook. Not just toast or scrambled eggs-no, I had my sights set higher. A real meal, one Sarah could enjoy without lifting a finger.

Lately, she'd been doing so much, and it didn't sit right with me. She was growing a human being inside her, for crying out loud, and still, she found time to organize the nursery, plan meals, and somehow keep the house running. The least I could do was take some of that load off her shoulders.

"Today, I'm a chef for a day," I declared to myself, pulling on an apron I'd found shoved at the back of a drawer. It had some cheesy slogan about grilling on it, but it would do.

Sarah was still upstairs, so I figured I had a solid hour before she'd come down. Enough time to whip up a feast. Or so I thought.

The first challenge was deciding what to make. My initial thought was something simple, but then I remembered her craving for Italian food.

Spaghetti carbonara sounded fancy yet manageable. Eggs, cheese, bacon, pasta-it couldn't be that hard, right?

I grabbed my phone and pulled up a recipe. "Step one: Boil water," I read aloud. Easy enough.

The trouble started when I tried to multitask. While the water heated, I thought I'd get a head start on the bacon. I threw a few slices into a pan, cranking the heat up high.

Almost immediately, the kitchen filled with the sound of sizzling and popping grease.

"Maybe not so high," I muttered, turning the burner down and dodging a flying speck of oil that narrowly missed my wrist.

The bacon, though slightly scorched, smelled amazing. Feeling confident, I moved on to cracking eggs for the sauce.

"Separate the yolks," the recipe instructed. Easier said than done. My first attempt ended with egg white dripping down my fingers and onto the counter. By the third egg, I'd managed to make a slimy mess of the entire process. "Richard?" Sarah's voice floated down from upstairs.

"Stay up there!" I shouted back, quickly wiping my hands on a dish towel. "It's a surprise!"

"A surprise or a disaster?" she called teasingly.

me!" I said, though I wasn't sure I trusted myself

next hurdle was the pasta. The boiling water bubbled aggressively, and I realized I

all at once, some of it sticking out of the pot like

on," I grumbled, pushing the stiff

spoon slipped, splashing hot water onto the

at the timer on my phone. The recipe said eight minutes for al dente, but I couldn't tell if

as I leaned over the pot, the bacon grease caught up with me. The smell of

no, no!" I yelped, grabbing the handle and moving

and piercing, as if announcing my failure to

was closer now. She was coming down

fine!" I lied, waving a dish towel under the smoke detector to

on her hips and a smirk tugging

mouth. "What's going

gestured vaguely at the chaos. "I'm cooking. For you. Because I'm an amazing

scanned the scene-the half-burned bacon, the pasta water boiling over, the egg yolks dripping onto the

amazing husband, huh?" she said, crossing her arms. "Looks like you're waging war

control," I insisted, though we both

into the

the egg yolks with

against the counter, clearly amused. "You know, I

way. Sit down. Relax. This

but didn't argue, taking a seat

I managed to salvage the dish. The pasta was cooked evenly, the sauce came together without scrambling, and the bacon, though crispy, added a smoky flavor

a flourish, sprinkling parsley on top for good

noodles. "Let's see if it tastes

her take a bite, my heart pounding like I was awaiting a Michelin star review.

asked, relief flooding

grinning. "I mean, the bacon's a little... well-done.

there."