Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart

Richard

pov.

The parenting workshop was held in a cozy community center, the kind of place that smelled faintly of crayons and coffee.

The walls were plastered with cheerful posters about child safety and breastfeeding tips, which I pretended to read while we waited for the session to begin.

My hands fidgeted with the pamphlet they'd handed us at the door. It had a smiling cartoon baby on the cover and the words Parenting: You've Got This! in bold, bubbly letters. Somehow, I wasn't convinced. Sarah sat beside me, flipping through the same pamphlet, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Did you know that swaddling can reduce colic?" she asked, nudging me with her elbow.

"Nope," I said, glancing sideways at her. "But I guess we're about to become swaddling experts, huh?"

She laughed, a sound I hadn't heard enough of in the last few days. Ever since Marina had left, Sarah had been quieter, more introspective.

I could tell she was still processing everything, but we'd both been too drained to talk about it much.

The workshop leader, a woman named Jill, introduced herself at the front of the room. She was lively and energetic, wearing a bright yellow sweater that made her seem like the human embodiment of sunshine. "Welcome, everyone!" she chirped. "Today, we're going to focus on practical skills for new parents-things like diapering, soothing techniques, and building emotional resilience as a team."

I glanced around the room. Most of the couples looked just as nervous as I felt, their wide eyes darting between Jill and the tables of baby dolls set up for practice. Sarah, on the other hand, looked calm. Determined, even. The first exercise was diaper changing. Easy enough in theory, but I quickly realized that baby dolls were slipperier than they looked.

My hands fumbled with the tiny diaper tabs, and I muttered under my breath as I tried to secure them.

"Need some help?" Sarah asked, her tone light but teasing.

"I've got it," I muttered, though my doll's diaper was lopsided at best.

Sarah's hands were steady as she adjusted the doll's legs and expertly fastened the diaper in place. "See? Not so bad once you get the hang of it."

"Yeah, sure," I said, glaring at my crooked attempt. "Piece of cake."

She smiled, her confidence infectious. "You'll get there. This is why we're here-to practice, right?"

The second activity involved holding and soothing the baby. Jill demonstrated different techniques: the football hold, the shushing method, the swaddle-and-rock.

I watched as Sarah cradled her doll, swaying gently as Jill had shown us. She looked so natural, so sure of herself.

Meanwhile, my own doll seemed to mock me, its plastic head wobbling dangerously every time I tried to shift my grip.

"You're holding it like a football," Sarah whispered, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Isn't that what she called it? The football hold?"

"Not literally like a football," she said, adjusting my hands with hers.

Her touch was warm, and reassuring. I relaxed a little, letting her guide me. "Better?"noveldrama

"Much better," she said, and the pride in her voice made me feel like I'd just aced a pop quiz.

As the session went on, Jill transitioned to the emotional side of parenting. "Becoming a parent is one of the biggest emotional shifts you'll ever experience," she said, her voice softening.

"It's okay to feel scared, overwhelmed, or even unsure if you're ready. The important thing is to communicate with each other and remember that you're a team."

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Unsure if I'm ready? That hit a little too close to home.

Jill asked us to write down one fear we had about becoming a parent and share it with our partner.

Sarah immediately started writing, her pen moving smoothly across the page. I stared at my blank paper.

What was my biggest fear? That I wouldn't be good enough? That I'd mess this up? That I'd let Sarah and our baby down?

Finally, I scribbled something vague: Not knowing what to do.

When we swapped papers, Sarah's response took me by surprise. She'd written: Not being patient enough with myself.

I looked up at her, my throat tight. "You? Not patient enough? Sarah, you're one of the most patient people I know."

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "I have my moments. But this is all new to me too, you know? I don't always feel as confident as I look."

Her honesty caught me off guard. I'd spent so much time worrying about my own insecurities, that I hadn't stopped to think that maybe she was feeling the same way.

By the time the workshop ended, I was exhausted-not just from the activities but from the weight of it all.

As we walked to the car, Sarah looped her arm through mine, her presence grounding me.

"You were great in there," she said, glancing up at me.

I snorted. "Great? Did you see my diaper attempt?"

"Okay, maybe not great at diapers," she admitted, laughing. "But you were trying. And that's what matters."

Later that evening, as we sat on the couch, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd fallen short somehow-that my clumsy attempts at the workshop were a sign of things to come.

Sarah must have noticed my mood because she nudged me gently. "Penny for your thoughts?"

I hesitated, unsure how to put my feelings into words. Finally, I sighed. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready for this. For being a dad. What if I'm terrible at it?"

Her expression softened, and she turned to face me fully. "Richard, do you think anyone feels ready the first time? Parenting isn't about being perfect. It's about showing up. And you? You're already doing that." I looked at her, my heart aching with gratitude. "You make it sound so simple."

"It's not simple," she said, her voice steady. "It's messy and hard and probably terrifying. But it's also going to be amazing. And we're going to figure it out together."

Her words settled something inside me. She was right-we didn't have to have all the answers right now. We just had to take it one step at a time.

I reached for her hand, intertwining our fingers. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"For what?"

"For believing in me. In us."

She smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Always."

As the evening stretched on, we talked about the future-about baby names, nursery colors, and the kind of parents we wanted to be.

By the time we went to bed, the heaviness I'd been carrying all day had lifted, replaced by a quiet sense of hope.

I didn't have it all figured out. I probably never would. But as long as Sarah and I were in this together, I knew we'd be okay.