Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
Chapter 42

Sarah's

pov.

I didn't think much of it when Richard first started sending those messages. At first, it was a simple "Congrats on the deal!" or "Hope the expansion's going well!"

I'd glance at my phone, roll my eyes, and go back to my emails, telling myself that it was nothing. But slowly, those little check-ins started to pile up, and I couldn't ignore them. "Why is he doing this?" I muttered to myself one evening, staring at another message from Richard that read,

"Heard about your new office space! Sounds exciting!" My thumb hovered over the reply button for longer than I'd care to admit, but I put the phone down instead.

I wasn't about to start up a casual text relationship with my ex-husband like we were long-lost friends.

Emma's voice played in my head. "You're not a robot, Sarah." Right, not a robot. But still, I was trying to move on, and Richard's friendly little notes weren't helping. Days passed, and it didn't stop. It was always something small, nothing intrusive, but it was consistent.

No requests to meet up, no pressure. Just... support. Was this the same Richard?

One afternoon, I was in the middle of reviewing some financial reports when my phone buzzed again.

I glanced at it, fully expecting another Richard message, and wasn't wrong. This one was short: "Just saw the feature in the magazine. Proud of you."

I let out a groan. "Proud of me?" I muttered under my breath. Since when was Richard, Mr. Emotionally Constipated, proud of anything I did? The man barely noticed when we were married, and now he's a cheerleader?

Shaking my head, I fired off a quick reply without thinking: "Thanks." The moment I hit send, I regretted it. I didn't want to encourage him.

But then again, was it so bad that someone cared enough to check in? I sighed, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else.

***

The charity event had been on my calendar for weeks. I was in no mood to go, but it was one of those things you couldn't skip without raising eyebrows.

I put on a smile, dressed to impress, and showed up, expecting the usual rounds of polite conversation and schmoozing. What I didn't expect was to run into Richard.

Of course, he looked annoyingly good, standing by the bar with a glass of wine in hand, laughing at something someone had said.

I almost turned around and made a beeline for the door, but it was too late-he saw me.

"Sarah," he said, his eyes lighting up. I could tell he wasn't sure how to approach me, like a kid testing the waters before jumping into the deep end. "I didn't think you'd be here." I gave him a tight smile. "It's for charity. I'm not that heartless."

He chuckled, and I hated that the sound of his laughter still got to me. "Right, of course."

We stood there awkwardly for a moment, and I mentally kicked myself for not replaceing an excuse to leave sooner. But then, Richard spoke up again, softer this time.

"You've really been doing well, Sarah. I've been keeping up with your business... and, well, I'm proud of you."

I rolled my eyes, but the words did something. I could feel my defenses cracking just a little.

It was the second time he'd said he was proud of me, and for some stupid reason, it felt... nice. Even though I didn't want it to.

"Thanks," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "It's been a lot of hard work."

Richard nodded, looking thoughtful. "I always knew you had it in you. I just wish I'd realized it sooner."

I blinked, caught off guard. The old Richard wouldn't have admitted something like that. I didn't know what to say, so I went with the first thing that came to mind. "Well, you didn't."

He smiled, but there was something sad in his eyes. "Yeah, I didn't."

For a moment, it felt like the air between us shifted, like we were two people just standing there, not exes with a tangled past, not a woman and a man with years of hurt between them. Just... people.

"I'm glad you're doing well, though," he added. "Really."

I looked at him, trying to see if there was some angle, some hidden agenda. But I didn't see any of that.

All I saw was Richard, standing there, just as vulnerable as me. And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel angry. I just felt... tired.

"Look, Richard," I said, my voice softer now, "I appreciate what you're trying to do. I really do. But we can't go back. I've worked hard to get to this point, and I'm not going to let anyone-especially you-get in the way of that." He nodded, but there was something hopeful in his expression. "I'm not asking for that. I just... I want to be a part of your life, even if it's just as friends."

Friends. Right. Could we ever really be friends? I wasn't sure, but I didn't have the energy to fight it tonight.

"We'll see," I said, giving him a small smile. "But for now, let's just... keep it simple."

"Simple," he repeated with a smile. "I can do that."

We chatted a little longer, nothing deep-just small talk about business, the event, and some random things that reminded me why I used to love him.

But I kept my guard up. I wasn't about to let him waltz back into my life just because he was showing up now.

That night, after the event, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation. For all the hurt Richard had caused, I couldn't deny that there had been good moments too.

There were times when we'd laughed, when he had mistakenly told me I was beautiful, before it all crumbled.

But I wasn't that person anymore. I wasn't the Sarah who bent over backward to make things work, even when it was obvious they wouldn't.

I wasn't the woman who let her personal life bleed into her professional goals, losing sight of what she wanted.

I'd changed. I was stronger now. More in control. And yet... part of me wondered if I was completely over Richard.

The way he'd shown up, not asking for anything, just supporting me-it was new. And it was confusing. Did I miss him? Or did I just miss the idea of what we could've been?

"Ugh," I groaned, turning over and burying my face in the pillow. Why was this so complicated?

I'd forgiven him, hadn't I? I'd told myself I was moving on. But maybe moving on wasn't as clean-cut as I thought it'd be. Maybe there were layers to it.

I sighed, grabbing my phone. I opened our conversation, staring at the last message he'd sent. "Proud of you." The words felt heavier now than they had before. "Am I really over him?" I whispered to myself.

Maybe I wasn't. But that didn't mean I was ready to jump back into anything. I'd worked too hard to get here-to this place where I was finally focusing on myself.

My business was thriving, I had people in my life who believed in me (thanks, Emma), and I wasn't going to let anyone derail that. Not even Richard.

But I couldn't deny that he was breaking down some of the walls I'd built around my heart. And that scared me.

"Get a grip, Sarah," I muttered, tossing the phone aside. "You're in control now."

And I was. I had to be. I wasn't about to let my past cloud the future I was building. Still, as I drifted off to sleep, Richard's voice echoed in my mind, soft and genuine: "I'm proud of you." Maybe, just maybe, I could be proud of myself too.