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?"

said, holding up my phone. "Future generations

take pictures, at least wait until I finish. This

clicking another

shook his head and went back to measuring, but I could see

the next few days, I became a stealthy

a box of baby toys, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to

of him holding up a tiny onesie, looking both amused and slightly terrified at how

asleep on the couch with a baby book open on his chest. I almost didn't take it because it felt too sweet to

ones, like Richard working on the nursery. I couldn't wait to show

he asked,

working on," I said,

"Oh, I remember this!

it," I

we clicked through the album, his laughter turned into soft chuckles, then quiet smiles. When we reached the photos of him, his eyes widened. "Wait a minute,"

did you? This

unreadable. Then he turned to me, his voice softer.

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." Richard didn't say anything for a while, but his hand found mine,

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

were so determined to fix it that

you to be disappointed," he

of the color, but because you cared so much. That's what made