Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
Chapter 60

Richard's

POV

Driving home after game night, I couldn't get the image of Sarah laughing out of my mind.

It had been a long time since I'd seen her like that-her guard down, her smile easy, eyes bright with genuine joy.

I caught myself smiling, too, the kind that didn't feel forced, or worse, plastered on to meet someone's expectations.

I pulled into my driveway, turned off the car, and just sat there in the dark for a while, my thoughts drifting back to the night.

Sarah had invited me into a part of her life I'd hardly ever seen, and I realized it had been her friends-her laughter-that had helped pull down the invisible walls between us, even if just for a few hours. How had I missed this side of her before?

Walking inside, I left the lights off and dropped onto the couch, the silence of the house settling around me.

I closed my eyes, replaying the way Sarah had thrown herself into that charades game without a second thought, belting out that song off-key, shaking her head like some rockstar at a sold-out concert. She'd never been one to hold back, not in her heart or in her actions.

"Who knew Mr. Serious could actually be a lot of fun?"

Her words rang in my ears, bringing a small chuckle out of me. If I was being honest, I'd always had a hard time loosening up.

Somewhere along the way, I'd gotten so wrapped up in ambition, in making every right move, that I'd forgotten how to let go, how to just enjoy myself.

The past few years hadn't helped either, but seeing Sarah's surprise at my "fun" side made me realize how little she'd ever seen it.

She'd probably felt alone in our marriage more often than I'd realized. And as much as it stung to think about that, it was finally clear to me.

I was getting a second chance, though. A chance to show her a part of me I hadn't let her see before. To find that part of myself again, the part that could just be... me.

A couple of days later, I found myself knocking on Sarah's door again, only this time without an invitation.

I wasn't even sure if she'd be home, but when she opened the door, her face shifted from surprise to that soft smile I hadn't seen enough of lately.

"Richard," she greeted, crossing her arms playfully. "Back so soon?"

I shrugged, trying to keep it casual. "Figured I'd bring a peace offering," I said, holding up a small bag from the bakery down the street. "They had fresh croissants."

Her smile widened. "Okay, you're forgiven." She opened the door wider and waved me in. "Though I don't know what you're apologizing for."

"Neither do I," I admitted, stepping inside. "But I figured peace offerings never hurt."

We sat at her small kitchen table, the soft light making everything feel warmer, closer. As we ate, I noticed her watching me between bites, her gaze thoughtful.

"So," she began, brushing a crumb off her lip, "what brought you by?"

There it was. I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Honestly? I just... I had fun the other night," I finally said, looking down at my coffee. "It reminded me of... what I'd been missing out on. With you." Her gaze softened, and she set her cup down, waiting.

"I know I wasn't always around, Sarah," I continued, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. "And even when I was, I don't think I really was there, if that makes sense."

She nodded slowly, her expression unreadable.

"I got so caught up in work and... Susan that I forgot what actually mattered." I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt and regret. "But the other night, it felt different. I felt like... maybe I could make it right. Be different."

She didn't respond right away, and the silence stretched between us. Finally, she looked up, her eyes searching mine.

"Richard," she began softly, "you know, I spent a long time thinking I'd never hear those words from you."

She paused, looking down at her hands. "For a while, I blamed myself. Thought maybe I wasn't interesting enough, or that you'd just gotten bored."

Hearing her say that stung in a way I hadn't expected. "Sarah, you were never the problem. I was... I was too wrapped up in my own world to see what I had right in front of me."

She glanced up at me, a small, hopeful smile playing on her lips. "Then maybe," she said, "we can try to make this work. I know I already said that but we start small. Do something together, without any expectations." I nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over me. "I'd like that."

Two days later, I met her at the park, where a small fair had popped up. It was crowded and noisy, filled with kids running around, couples holding hands, families laughing.

The whole scene felt surreal like I'd walked into a memory I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

Sarah showed up a few minutes later, wearing a casual dress, her hair pulled back. When she saw me, her face lit up, and for a moment, I felt like I was seeing the woman I'd first fallen for, back when things were simple. "Ready to lose in a game of darts?" she teased, gesturing to the game booths lined up in front of us.

"Oh, I'll let you win a few times," I replied, smirking, "but don't get used to it."

We spent the day moving from game to game, laughing as we each missed our targets, cheering each other on when we managed a rare win.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed so freely, so easily. And every time I looked over at Sarah, and saw her smiling up at me, I felt that sense of belonging, that feeling I'd lost somewhere along the way.

As we were walking back to the car, Sarah stopped and looked up at the Ferris wheel, the lights glowing against the darkening sky.

"Let's go on it," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"Ferris wheels aren't really my thing," I admitted, looking up at it with mild apprehension.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Mr. Serious. What's the worst that could happen?"

With a groan, I followed her to the line, letting her take my hand as we stepped into the cart.

As it started to move, I couldn't help but feel a little tense, but Sarah was leaning out slightly, eyes wide as she took in the view.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.

I looked at her instead, feeling my heart skip a beat. "Yeah," I murmured. "It really is."

As the ride slowed to a stop, we stayed there, looking out over the city, the lights twinkling below us.

I didn't say anything, just let the moment wash over me, hoping that maybe, just maybe, we could build something new out of the fragments we'd left behind.

When I dropped her off that night, she lingered by the door, her hand resting on the handle.

"Richard," she began, glancing up at me, "thanks for tonight. It... it really meant a lot."

"Anytime," I replied, meaning it. "I'll see you soon?"

She nodded, giving me that soft smile again. "Yeah. Soon."