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

Sarah pov.

My second trimester.

The nursery had becmy personal Everest. Every tI walked by that half-finished room, I felt it mocking me-chaotic and incomplete, just like my confidence.

The crib was still in its box, the curtains were too short, and the tiny clothes Richard had folded with so much care looked lost in the clutter.

I stood in the doorway that morning, holding a paint swatch in one hand and a baby blanket in the other. "Alright," I muttered to myself. "Today's the day." But where to begin? The mountain of choices loomed in front of me, each decision feeling like it carried the weight of the world.

Should I pick a light color? A dark one? A theme? Should I do the walls in stripes or leave it neutral? Everything felt like a big deal, even though logically, I knew it probably wasn't. Was I overthinking it? Probably.

I took a deep breath and stood still for a moment. I felt like a million thoughts were swirling around my head at once, and none of them were helping.

The baby was coming soon-whether the room was ready or not. Why was I letting something like paint and furniture take up so much space in my mind? I should have felt excitement. Instead, I felt paralyzed by choices. Shouldn't I be making these decisions with ease? Other parents seemed so confident-maybe too confident. They knew exactly what they wanted. Not me.

I sat down on the floor, my legs suddenly weak under the weight of it all. Maybe I should have let Richard take the lead on this.

He always seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. Maybe I was just too tired. Or too emotional.

I was pregnant, after all. But that thought didn't makefeel better. It only madefeel like I was making excuses.

That's when I pulled out my phone. I needed a little outside perspective. Zoe always had a way of cutting through the noise.

She could talkdown from anything. I dialed her number and waited, watching the cluttered room as I heard the ringing tone in my ear.

"Hey, Mama Bear!" Zoe's cheerful voice cracked through the phone, her usual energy lighting up the room. "Zoe, I'm going crazy," I said, trying to keep my voice steady but failing miserably. "I'm standing here in the nursery, holding this paint swatch, and I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing." She chuckled, the sound comforting in the way only Zoe's laughter could be. "Okay, first of all, deep breaths, Sarah. It's not the end of the world." I sighed deeply. "It feels like the end of the world." Zoe didn't skip a beat. "Trust me, this is normal. You're pregnant. Of course you're overwhelmed. But that's exactly why I'm here to talk you down. You got this." "I don't know. I just... it's like every little thing is a big decision. And what if I choose the wrong thing? What if this isn't good enough?" "Sarah, slow down. What is 'good enough'? A nursery is just a room. It's not going to define how your kid turns out." "What's important is that it's a space where you and the baby feel comfortable, and where you're going to spend a lot of ttogether. That's all. Stop stressing." "I guess. But there's so much to think about." "Look, we'll figure it out. It's just a room. What colors do you like?" I glanced at the color samples again, feeling a bit lost in the choices. "I was thinking of sage green, but then I saw this soft yellow, and now I'm doubting myself." "Sage green is a winner," she said, her voice warm with certainty. "It's calming, neutral, and won't give you a headache every tyou walk in the room. You'll be looking at it a lot, so it better be something that makes you feel good." "Okay, sage green. I can do that." "There you go. One decision down. See how easy that was?" "Yeah," I muttered, already feeling a little better. "But now I need to figure out furniture. Crib placement, changing table... it's like there are a thousand decisions to make." Zoe's voice softened. "Start with the crib. Get that set up where it makes sense to you. No one else is going to care where it is except you and Richard." I nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see me. "Okay. I'll start with the crib." "Good. And listen-don't get too caught up in all the tiny details. It's easy to want everything perfect, but perfection doesn't exist. Your baby won't care if you go with a pink crib or a wooden one. They just want your love and attention." Her words felt like a warm hug, easing sof the tension in my chest. "Thanks, Zoe. I really needed to hear that." "No problem. I'm here for you. Now, go get started. The room won't finish itself." I laughed at that. "I'll try." "Good. You've got this." *** With Zoe's words still echoing in my mind, I felt the weight on my shoulders begin to lift. I knew it wasn't going to be perfect, but that was okay. The nursery would get done, one step at a time. I could do this.

Later that day, when Richard chome, I found myself in the nursery again, staring at the walls and the pile of things I had yet to put together. "Hey," Richard said as he walked in, looking around. "I see the place is still a work in progress." I smiled, though it felt a little forced. "Yeah, I've made sprogress. Sage green, thanks to Zoe." "Nice choice," he said, his eyes lighting up as he cover and kissed my cheek. "Looks good." "I called Zoe for advice. She said I was overthinking it." Richard laughed, running a hand through his hair. "That sounds like Zoe. So, what's next on the list?" "Well," I said, standing up and brushing off my jeans, "I think I'm going to focus on the crib first. I can always rearrange the furniture later." "Sounds like a plan."

We spent the rest of the evening unpacking the crib, laughing at how many pieces there were and how the instructions seemed to have been written in another language.

By the twe were done, the crib was standing tall in and bfelt the middle of the room, and felt a wave of the accomplishment wash over me. "There," I said, hands on my hips. "That's a start." Richard nodded, smiling at me. "You did great, babe." I looked around the room, suddenly feeling hopeful. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was ours. And it was getting closer.

The next day, with Richard's help, we painted the nursery. Sage green, just like Zoe suggested.

We laughed as we splattered paint on each other, the room slowly transforming from a blank canvas into something that felt real.

The smell of fresh paint filled the room, and for the first tin days, I felt like I could breathe.

When we were done, we stood in the doorway, admiring our work.

"It's perfect," I said, smiling up at him.

"No," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You're perfect." I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop smiling. For the first time, I felt like everything was going to be okay.

I stood there, looking at the nursery and imagining our baby in that space, I realized that the room wasn't just about the decisions or the furniture or the color. It was about us-the three of us-and the love we were building together. I couldn't ask for anything more than that.