Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
Chapter 40

Sarah's

pov.

I sat there, staring at my phone for a good fifteen minutes. Just staring, no calls, no texts, just pure silence.

My mind was racing, bouncing between the two people I knew I had to call-Richard and Wesley.

This was going to be awkward, painful even, but it was necessary. I had spent days reflecting, mulling over everything.

I had forgiven them, sure. That part was done. But now I had to tell them what came next.

I picked up the phone and dialed Wesley first. Of course, he answered on the second ring.

"Sarah?" His voice had that hopeful edge to it, like maybe I was calling to give him another chance. Spoiler alert: I wasn't.

"Hi, Wesley," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "I wanted to talk. About everything."

There was a pause on his end, but I could hear him shifting, probably adjusting himself in whatever fancy leather chair he was sitting in. "Yeah, of course. I've been waiting to hear from you."

I let out a slow breath, gathering my thoughts. "I've had a lot of time to think, and I want you to know that I forgive you."

There it was. The words I'd been practicing in my head for days now, out in the open.

Wesley let out a breath, like he'd been holding it this whole time.

"Wow," he said softly. "I don't know what to say. I-thank you, Sarah. You don't know how much that means to me." "Don't get too excited," I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "There's more."

"Right," he said, his voice dropping a bit. "I figured."

"I've forgiven you, Wesley, but I can't go back to the way things were. I need space. You need to stay away from me." There was silence on the line, and for a second, I thought he might argue. But then I heard him sigh.

"I get it," he said, sounding surprisingly mature.

"I really do. I messed up, and I hurt you, and I can't take that back. If space is what you need, then... I'll give it to you."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Thank you. I hope you replace whatever it is you're looking for, Wesley. But it's not with me."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I get that now. I'm sorry, Sarah. Truly."

"I know you are," I said softly. "Goodbye, Wesley."

"Goodbye, Sarah."

I hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight lift slightly.

One down, one more to go. And, of course, the next one was going to be more difficult. Much more difficult.

I scrolled through my contacts and found Richard's name. My finger hovered over the call button for longer than I'd like to admit.

I already knew how this conversation would go. Richard wasn't Wesley. He wouldn't take this as calmly.

But I had to do it. I had to close this chapter for my own sanity.

I pressed call, and after a few rings, he picked up.

"Sarah." His voice was steady, as if he'd been expecting this call too.

"Hi, Richard." I took a deep breath. "We need to talk."

"Okay," he said cautiously. "What's on your mind?"

I could feel the tension already building in my chest, but I pushed through it.

"I've been thinking a lot about everything that happened. And I want you to know that I forgive you."

There was a pause, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He wasn't sure where this was going, and honestly, neither was I.

"That's... good to hear," he said slowly. "Thank you."

"But," I continued quickly, "I need space. I need you to stay away from me."

"Wait," he interrupted, his voice sharper now. "What do you mean, stay away?"

"I mean exactly that, Richard," I said firmly. "I've forgiven you, but I need to focus on myself, on my business, and I can't do that with you constantly... lingering." "Lingering?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. "I'm not lingering, Sarah. I'm trying to make things right."

"I know you are," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "But what I need right now is space. I need to move on." There was a heavy silence on his end, and I could practically feel the frustration radiating through the phone.

"Sarah," he started, his voice lower now, "I've already lost you once. I'm not going to let it happen again."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Richard, this isn't about you anymore. This is about me."

"I need time to heal, to focus on my future without constantly being reminded of the past."

"But I've changed," he insisted. "I'm not the same person I was back then. You know that."

"Maybe you have," I admitted, "but that doesn't change what I need right now. And what I need is distance."

"Distance," he muttered, like the word tasted bitter in his mouth. "So that's it? You're just going to push me away?"

"I'm not pushing you away," I said, exasperated. "I'm asking for space. There's a difference."

"Right," he said, his tone hardening. "Sure. Space."

I sighed, knowing this wasn't going the way I'd hoped. "Richard, I appreciate that you're trying, but this is what I need. Please respect that."

There was a long pause, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "Fine. I'll give you space. But I'm not giving up on us, Sarah."

I shook my head, feeling the familiar frustration bubbling up again. "I'm not asking you to wait for me, Richard. I'm asking you to let me move on."

"And I'm telling you, I can't," he said, his voice firm. "I've lost too much already. I'm not losing you again."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't. I just let the silence hang between us until finally, I spoke.

"Goodbye, Richard."

He didn't respond right away, and for a moment, I thought maybe he wouldn't. But then, just before I could hang up, I heard him say, "See you soon, Sarah."

I hung up the phone and let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. That was... exhausting.

But it was done. I had said my piece, and now, it was up to him to accept it.

Except, of course, he didn't.

The next few weeks were filled with little reminders that Richard wasn't giving up as easily as Wesley had.

Handwritten notes, flowers delivered to my office, small gifts that I didn't need or ask for.

It was like he thought he could win me over with gestures, but I wasn't buying it.

"Another one?" Zoe asked one morning, holding up a small box wrapped in shiny paper.

I rolled my eyes. "Just toss it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? It looks expensive."

"I'm sure," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I don't need his gifts."

Zoe shrugged and dropped the box into the trash bin. "Well, at least he's persistent."

"Yeah, and annoying," I muttered.

But it wasn't just the gifts. He showed up at events, always managing to be in the same room as me, always replaceing a way to catch my eye.

I could feel his presence even when I wasn't looking at him, like some magnetic force that refused to leave me alone.

And the worst part? It was working. Not in the way he probably wanted, but it was working nonetheless.

I found myself thinking about him more than I wanted to, wondering what he was really after.

Was it just guilt? Regret? Or was there something more?

I hated that I still cared. I hated that despite everything, part of me still felt something when he was around.

But I wasn't going to let that cloud my judgment. Not again. I had worked too hard to build this life for myself, to get where I was.

I wasn't going to let Richard Wright waltz back in and derail everything.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this wasn't over. Not yet.

"Do you think he'll ever give up?" Zoe asked one day, after tossing yet another bouquet of flowers into the trash.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "Honestly? I don't know."

"Well," she said, smirking, "if he keeps sending gifts, we might need a bigger trash can."

I laughed, but the truth was, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to stop. Because if he stopped, what did that mean?

That he'd finally moved on? That I was really, truly alone?

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. I couldn't let myself go down that road. Not now. Not when I had so much ahead of me.

I had forgiven him. That was enough. At least, it had to be.