Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart by Hayley

Chapter 114 Richard's POV Sitting across from Isabelle in the dimly lit living room, her words lingered in the air like smoke. I don't want to lose you too.

I didn't know how to respond. It felt like she was pouring her heart out, but the timing was strange-too convenient, too calculated. I tried to brush it off.

"You're not losing anyone, Isabelle," I said, my tone careful. "You've been through a lot, I get it. But Sarah and I are here for you." Her eyes glistened as she smiled, that ssweet, innocent smile that had started to make my stomach churn. "Thank you, Richard. That means more tothan you'll ever know." I nodded, standing awkwardly. "Well, uh... it's late. Maybe you should get srest." She stayed seated, her gaze holding mine a beat too long. "Goodnight, Richard," she said softly.

I turned and left, but the unease followedupstairs.

*** The next morning, I found Isabelle already in the kitchen. She was humming to herself, flipping pancakes like we were in ssort of sitcom.

"Morning," she chirped, flashinga smile.

"Morning," I muttered, grabbing a mug for coffee.

"Pancakes?" she offered, sliding a plate towardbefore I could answer. "I made them just how you like-light on the syrup." I stared at the plate. How did she know that? I hadn't even mentioned it to Sarah. "Uh, thanks," I said, forcing a smile.

She beamed, sitting across fromat the table. "I thought it might be nice to start the day with something cheerful. Things have been so tense lately." I nodded, though I didn't say much. My thoughts kept drifting to Sarah, who hadn't cdownstairs yet. She'd been sleeping more, her energy drained. I was starting to worry. "Sarah still sleeping?" Isabelle asked, as if reading my mind.

"Yeah," I said, sipping my coffee.

Her expression turned thoughtful. "She seems... distant. Is everything okay between you two?" "Of course," I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.

Isabelle tilted her head, her smile soft and understanding. "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just... I know how hard it is when someone you love starts keeping secrets." Her words hit a nerve, but I brushed it off. "Sarah's not keeping secrets," I said, my tone firm.

"Of course," Isabelle said, holding up her hands like she was backing off. "Forget I said anything." Later that day, I found Sarah in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket. She looked exhausted, her skin pale, her eyes heavy.

"Hey," I said gently, sitting beside her. "You okay?" She nodded but didn't say anything.

"You've been so tired lately," I said. "Maybe you should take a break, and get srest. I can handle things around here." Sarah's head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. "Rest? What's your solution? While she's downstairs making herself at home?" "Sarah, please," I said, sighing. "Not this again." "She's not just here, Richard," Sarah said, her voice rising. "She's in everything. She knows things about us- personal things. Don't you see how wrong that is?" I rubbed my temples, trying to keep my patience. "She's been through a lot. She's just trying to connect." Sarah let out a bitter laugh. "Connect? Is that what you call it? You don't even see it, do you?" "See what?" I asked, exasperated.

"She's manipulating you," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "She's crossing lines, and you're letting her." I shook my head. "Sarah, you're reading too much into this. Isabelle's just-" "Stop defending her!" Sarah shouted, cuttingoff.

The room fell silent. Sarah's chest heaved as she stared at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place-hurt, frustration, maybe even fear. "Fine," she said finally, her voice cold. "If you won't see it, I'll deal with it myself." She got up and walked away, leavingsitting there.

Over the next few days, I couldn't shake the tension between Sarah and me. It was like a wall had gone up, and neither of us knew how to tear it down. Meanwhile, Isabelle's behavior only grew bolder. She started finding excuses to touch me-a light hand on my shoulder, brushing pastin the hallway. One evening, as I was sitting at my desk going through spaperwork, she appeared in the doorway.

"Working late?" she asked, leaning against the frame.

"Just catching up," I said, not looking up.

She stepped into the room, placing a cup of tea on the desk. "I thought you could use a break." "Thanks," I said, though her presence was starting to feel stifling.

She lingered, her eyes scanning the papers on my desk. "Busy man," she said, her tone almost... admiring. "Yeah," I said shortly, hoping she'd take the hint.

But she didn't. Instead, she moved closer, her hand brushing against mine as she reached for one of the papers. "What's this?" she asked, her voice light and curious.

I pulled the paper away, my tone firmer now. "Just work stuff." She smiled, unfazed. "You're so protective, Richard. It's one of the things I admire about you." My stomach churned. "Isabelle, I need to focus," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course," she said, stepping back. "I'll let you work. But... if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Sometimes it helps to have someone who understands." She left the room, but her words stayed with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind.

A few nights later, I noticed something strange. Sarah had been avoiding Isabelle, keeping to herself more and more But what really O caught my attention was a small, tattered photo I found on the coffee table. It looked old, the edges worn, the image faded. It was a picture of a man and a little girl, their faces familiar but hard to place. I picked it up, studying it. "Isabelle must've left this here," I muttered to myself.

It didn't seem important, so I set it aside. But later, when I mentioned it to Isabelle, her reaction was odd.

"Oh," she said quickly, snatching the photo from my hand. "That's... just something from my past. Nothing important." Her tone was light, but her grip on the photo was tight, her knuckles white.

The breaking point cone afternoon when I walked into then kitchen to find Saran sitting at the Sarah-sitting table, her face pale, her hands clutching a stack of papers. Isabelle was standing nearby, her expression calm, almost smug.

"What's going on?" I asked, my gaze darting between them.

Sarah looked up at me, her eyes blazing. "Ask her." "Askwhat?" Isabelle said, her voice dripping with innocence.

"Enough," Sarah snapped, slamming the papers down. "I'm done playing e this game, Richard. You can either open your eyes, or you can deal with her yourself." "Sarah, what are you talking about?" I asked, my voice rising. She shook her head, grabbing her coat and heading for the door. "Figure it out," she said coldly before walking out.

I turned to Isabelle, who stood there, her face a picture of concern. "I don't know what I did to upset her," she said softly.

But for the first time, I wasn't sure I believed her.