Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
Chapter 76

Richard's

Pov.

After that strange text, my mind wouldn't let it go. "Enjoy the laughs while you can." I'd kept the message to myself, not wanting to worry Sarah.

I didn't even know what it meant, and I didn't want to freak her out for no reason. But the words hung there in my head like a bad smell.

I had to shake it off, though. Tonight was supposed to be fun, light, relaxed - exactly what she needed after that weird guy with the camera.

We'd just gotten back from the comedy club, and Sarah was looking at me with that soft smile of hers, eyes shining.

I figured maybe I could keep things light, get her laughing again. What better way than to cook dinner myself?

"Stay right there," I told her, leading her to the couch and giving her a little nudge to sit. "I'm gonna whip us up something amazing. You just relax." She laughed, raising an eyebrow. "You? Cooking?"

"Hey, I can cook," I said, puffing my chest out a little. I wasn't exactly a five-star chef, but how hard could it be?

She just grinned, sinking into the couch with that amused look that meant she was in for a show. "Alright, Chef Richard, impress me."

I rolled up my sleeves and stepped into the kitchen, ready to take on this "culinary challenge."

I figured pasta would be simple enough. Just boil it, add some sauce, throw in a little extra to make it seem fancy. Piece of cake.

Or so I thought.

The first sign of trouble was the pot of water. I filled it up, placed it on the stove, and cranked up the heat.

But it was taking forever to boil, and I kept glancing at it every few seconds, tapping my fingers on the counter.

"Richard," I heard Sarah call from the living room, trying to stifle a laugh, "you know it doesn't boil faster if you watch it, right?"

"I know that," I muttered, rolling my eyes even though she couldn't see me. "I'm just... checking."

Finally, I saw some bubbles, and I tossed in a big handful of pasta. Too much pasta, probably.

The noodles were already pushing against the rim of the pot, but I figured they'd shrink down or something. That's what happens, right?

Next, I turned to the sauce. I found a jar of marinara in the fridge and dumped it into a saucepan, thinking maybe I'd get fancy and add some spices.

But as I was looking for the pepper, the sauce started bubbling, popping little red spots all over the stove. And, unfortunately, all over my shirt.

"Richard?" Sarah's voice was closer now. She'd peeked into the kitchen doorway, watching me fight the sauce explosion. "Are you okay in there?"

"Totally fine," I said, trying to sound calm. I grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred, hoping it would calm down, but the sauce just kept bubbling, popping, and spitting everywhere. I couldn't help but laugh at myself - this was going so wrong, but it was kind of hilarious.

"Maybe you need some help?" she asked, stepping in with a grin.

"No, no," I insisted. "This is my surprise for you. Go sit. I've got it under control."

She raised her hands in surrender, smirking. "Alright, if you say so."

I could hear her giggling as she walked back to the living room, and I took a deep breath, turning back to the sauce that was now splattered all over the stove.

I finally found the pepper and sprinkled some in, then tossed in a bit of garlic powder for good measure.

But then, I noticed the pasta. It looked like it had doubled in size and was now threatening to spill over the edge of the pot.

I scrambled to get a colander and somehow managed to pour the pasta out without burning myself. The steam billowed up, and I waved it away, feeling like I'd just run a marathon. Finally, I dumped the drained pasta into a bowl, poured the sauce over it, and gave it a quick stir. It wasn't the prettiest thing I'd ever seen, but it was edible. Or at least I hoped so. "Dinner is served!" I announced, carrying the bowl out to Sarah like I was delivering a five-star meal.

She sat up, eyebrows raised, and bit her lip to hide a smile. "Wow, that... looks... interesting." "Hey, don't judge a book by its cover," I said, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "Try it." She picked up her fork and took a tentative bite. Her face lit up in surprise. "Not bad!"

I let out a relieved laugh. "See? I told you I could cook."

We started eating, and despite the mess I'd made, it was actually pretty nice. Just sitting there with her, laughing, feeling normal. Every time she giggled, I felt a little lighter, a little more at ease. The text message, the guy with the camera... it all felt miles away.

"So," I said, trying to sound casual, "if I were a professional chef, would you hire me?"

She smirked, twirling her fork. "Maybe... if you promised not to destroy the kitchen."

I laughed, holding up my hand. "Deal. No sauce explosions next time."

We kept joking and laughing, sharing funny stories, and making silly faces. It was like everything else melted away, and for a moment, it was just us.

Just me and her, sitting in the soft glow of our little kitchen, laughing over a half-disaster meal.

But as the laughter died down, I glanced out the window, and my heart stopped.

There was a car parked across the street. It wasn't anything fancy, just an old, nondescript sedan.

But it hadn't been there when we got home, and now it was sitting there with the engine idling, headlights off. Just... watching.

"Richard?" Sarah asked, noticing the change in my expression. "What is it?"

I forced a smile, shaking my head. "Nothing. Just thought I saw something."

The car was just sitting there, no one getting out, no one moving. It felt like it was waiting.