Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
Chapter 15

Richard pov.

Weeks passed, and it was the same thing every time Susan and I went out.

People always found a way to bring up Sarah, to compare them. It was grating on my nerves.

Why did they have to pick on Susan? It wasn't her fault that I didn't love Sarah. If anything, Sarah was the other woman. Susan was the one I'd loved from the start. I stood outside our bedroom door, listening to her muffled cries. We had just come back from another event, and it had happened again.

Someone had called her 'the other woman.' My hands balled into fists. Why couldn't they just let it go?

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Susan was on the bed, face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

I walked over and sat beside her, reaching out to touch her back.

"Susan," I said softly.

She jerked away from my hand. "Don't," she snapped. Her voice was raw. "You just stood there, Richard. You just watched while they called me the other woman."

I felt a knot in my stomach. "I... I didn't know what to say," I muttered. "You know it's not true. They don't know our story."

She lifted her head, her eyes red and puffy. "But they keep saying it! Every single time!"

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "It's like... it's like I'm some kind of villain. And you... you just stand there."

I felt the sting of her words. "That's not fair," I said quietly. "You know it's not fair."

She sat up, her hands clenched into fists. "Fair? Richard, they called me the other woman! They say I stole you from your sweet, perfect wife. And you say nothing. You just... you just look at them." I sighed, rubbing my temples. "What do you want me to do, Susan? Yell at them? Cause a scene?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Or... or at least tell them it's not true. Tell them that you love me, that you always did. That it was never her!"

A sharp pain hit my chest. "I do tell them," I said, feeling helpless. "But it doesn't matter to them. They've made up their minds."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "It's not enough, Richard. It's never enough."

I looked away, anger and helplessness mixing in my gut. "I know you're hurting," I said, my voice low. "But... this isn't helping. We can't control what they think."

She let out a bitter laugh. "No, you just stand there, all calm and collected, while I get called names. I'm the one who has to listen to it. And you... you don't defend me."

Frustration bubbled up inside me. "Susan, I'm trying my best here," I said, my voice rising. "It's not easy for me either."

She glared at me. "Not easy? Not easy is when you love someone, and the whole world says you shouldn't. Not easy is being looked at like you're a homewrecker every time you walk into a room." I opened my mouth to argue, but her eyes stopped me. She was right, in a way.

I ran a hand through my hair. Susan would never listen.

"Look," I said, softer this time. "We'll figure it out. I'll talk to them if it happens again. I'll tell them to stop."

She sniffled, turning away. "You always say that."

"I mean it this time," I insisted. "I'll make them see it's not what they think."

She kept quiet. Finally, she nodded, but I could see she wasn't convinced.

"Okay," she whispered. "But next time, if it happens again... you say something. You don't just stand there."

I nodded, feeling the tightness in my chest grow. "I promise," I said, but the words felt heavy.

I wasn't sure if it was a promise I could keep.

I knew what I had to do. I couldn't keep standing by while people whispered and pointed fingers.

Susan didn't deserve that. No, we didn't deserve that. So I decided to go big, and make a statement.

Something that would end all the talk for good. That's how I ended up sitting across from Martins at the rooftop bar.

It's the kind of place with a view of the whole city, where you can have a private conversation without anyone eavesdropping.

Martins took a sip of his drink, looking at me with that calm expression of his. "You wanted to talk. What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, then said it. "I want to propose to Susan."

He almost choked on his drink. "Propose? Richard, that's-" He shook his head. "It's too soon. People are already talking."

"I don't care what people think!" I snapped, louder than I meant to.

A few heads turned, so I lowered my voice. "I'm sick of the whispers, Wes. It's about my happiness, not theirs."

Martins leaned back in his chair, eyes on me. "You think this will make you happy? Look, Richard, I get it."

"But if you do this now, it'll just make them talk more. They'll say you're rushing into it, trying to prove something."

"I'm not trying to prove anything," I shot back. "It's not like I loved Sarah. You know how it is."

Martins frowned, not saying anything at first. Then, "Are you sure you're happy, though? Because when Sarah was with you... even if you didn't love her, you seemed... happier. The house felt different. Since Susan came-" "Stop it!" I cut him off, anger boiling in my chest. "You're doing exactly what everyone else is doing-comparing Susan to Sarah."

Martins's eyes narrowed, frustration clear on his face. "Maybe they're right, Richard! You think hundreds of people are all wrong? You think it's just rumors?"

I clenched my fists under the table. "I love Susan. More than anything. And you're supposed to support me. You're my best friend."

He sighed, rubbing his temples like he had a headache. "I do support you. But supporting you doesn't mean I won't tell you if you're making a mistake."

"This isn't a mistake," I said through gritted teeth. "This is the best thing for me to do."

Martins just looked at me, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to replace something I wasn't saying.

Then he nodded, slowly. "I hope so," he said, his voice quiet, almost resigned.

He picked up his drink again, taking a long sip.