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

Sarah

pov.

I woke up that morning with an idea buzzing in my mind like a persistent fly. It wasn't about reorganizing the nursery or tackling the endless list of baby-related tasks.

No, this was different. I wanted to create something lasting, something that could capture the whirlwind of emotions, changes, and funny little moments we'd experienced during this pregnancy.

A photo album. It seemed simple enough, but as I sat at the dining table with my laptop, scrolling through photos, I realized this was about more than just pictures.

It was about preserving memories, the kind we might laugh at or cry over years from now. The first snapshot I found was of me holding a pickle jar in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, grinning like a lunatic.

"I forgot about that night," I murmured to myself, smiling. Richard had taken the picture after catching me sneaking into the kitchen at midnight. I remembered how he'd teased me for days, calling me his "sweet-and-sour queen." "Perfect," I said, adding it to the album template.

The next few photos I found were more routine-belly shots we'd taken every month, selfies from doctor's visits, and a few pictures of me surrounded by baby clothes. But as I scrolled further, I realized something was missing: Richard. Later that morning, I decided to change that. Richard was outside tinkering with something in the garage, so I grabbed my phone and quietly followed him.

Peeking through the doorway, I saw him hunched over a small bookshelf he'd decided to build for the nursery.

He was muttering to himself, a pencil tucked behind his ear and a tape measure in his hand. I couldn't resist. I snapped a quick photo.

"Caught in the act," I teased, stepping inside.

Richard looked up, startled. "What are you doing?"

"Future generations need to know how hard their

you're going to take pictures, at least wait until I finish.

I'm taking it now," I said, clicking another photo. "The

went back to measuring, but I

became a stealthy photographer, capturing candid moments

of baby toys, his brow furrowed in concentration

a tiny onesie, looking both amused and slightly terrified at how small it

couch with a baby book open on his chest. I almost didn't take

were silly moments, like my midnight craving picture, and heartwarming ones, like Richard working on

he asked, glancing at the

on," I

laughed. "Oh, I remember

it," I said, nudging

the album, his laughter turned into soft chuckles, then quiet smiles. When we reached

I admitted. "You didn't think I'd let you off the hook, did you? This is our journey, and you're just as much a

the screen for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to me, his voice softer. "I didn't

arm. "You're always doing these little things-building shelves, reading baby books, even just being there when I need you. I wanted to make sure you knew how much it matters."

the nursery-a work in progress at the time. Richard pointed at the half-painted walls in the picture. "Remember when I accidentally

forget? You were so determined

you to be disappointed," he

the color, but because you cared