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

Richard

pov.

I couldn't stop smiling. Even the next morning, as I stumbled into the kitchen half-awake and with Sarah's cheery "Good morning!" ringing in my ears, the grin stayed plastered on my face. "A girl," I muttered, grabbing the coffee pot. The words still felt unreal. A little girl who would someday wrap me around her tiny finger before I even saw it coming. "We're having a girl." Sarah sat at the table, humming as she flipped through a baby catalog, her plate of toast forgotten.

Every so often, she'd point to a random page and say something like, "Do you like this crib better?" or "What do you think of lavender walls?"

I nodded along, still more focused on my coffee than cribs. Truthfully, she could pick anything, and I'd agree.

How could I argue with someone who already seemed to know what this kid needed? I just hoped I could measure up to that.

"You're quiet this morning," Sarah said, looking up from her catalog.

"Just thinking," I replied.

"About what?"

I hesitated, swirling the coffee in my mug. "You ever feel like... like you've got this gigantic responsibility coming at you, and no matter how much you prepare, it still feels overwhelming?" She tilted her head, studying me. "You're talking about the baby?"

"Yeah," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I mean, don't get me wrong-I'm excited. But I keep wondering... what if I mess up? What if I'm not a good dad?"

Sarah reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. "You're going to be an amazing dad," she said firmly.

"I see it every day-in the way you take care of me, the way you're already planning for her. She's lucky to have you, and so am I."

throat and cleared it quickly. "Thanks, babe. I

she said with a soft smile,

her mom, I decided to tackle the nursery. I figured it was about time I contributed something more than moral

a storage closet-boxes of baby clothes, unopened toys, and a stack of books about parenting that I hadn't touched yet. Alright, time to make this place look like it

started by unpacking some of the clothes. Tiny socks, onesies, and little

and I couldn't help but imagine our daughter

Sarah's smile? My laugh? What kind of person would she grow up

on it and chuckled. "Well, you've got me pegged already, kiddo,"

voice startled me, and I turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms

her grin softening into something warmer as she took the onesie from my

to look adorable in this. And you're going

was absolutely right. "Probably. I mean, how do you say no to someone who's this tiny?" I gestured

folding them into neat stacks. "It's funny, isn't it? We're

beside her and picking up a pair of socks. "But I think that's what makes it special. It's like... every decision we make now is part of building this life for her. Even the little things, like this nursery." She paused, looking around the room. "It's starting

mountain of baby things, the faint smell of paint still lingering in the air from when we'd repainted the walls last week. "It is. And a

doesn't end after two minutes," I pointed out, making

on her bump.

dinner-nothing fancy, just spaghetti and garlic bread, but I figured she deserved a break from cooking. "This is nice," she said, twirling a

replied. "Can't have you thinking

off? You do realize you're the one who built that crib, right? And put together the stroller? And dealt with the mountain

you're the one who's, you know, growing a human," I said, gesturing at her belly. "Kind of hard

I could tell she was trying not to smile. "Fine, you win. But only because you made garlic bread." We