Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart

Richard pov.

Weeks passed. Life felt like a blur of hospital visits, endless updates from doctors, and quiet moments spent in Sarah's room.

I was there every day, holding her hand, speaking softly to her, willing her to wake up. Zoe and Martins tried their best to keep things light whenever they visited, cracking jokes or telling stories, but even they couldn't hide their worry. The NICU had become another constant in my life. Our daughter was thriving despite her premature birth, a tiny fighter who seemed determined to make it through.

I'd visit her every evening after sitting with Sarah, watching her tiny chest rise and fall under the glow of the incubator's lights. She was the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark time.

"Hey, little one," I whispered one night, my hand resting on the incubator. "Your mom's going to wake up soon. She has to. She wouldn't leave us like this."

It was a quiet morning when the miracle happened. I was sitting in Sarah's room, flipping through a book that Zoe had left behind.

She and Martins had gone out to grab coffee, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I glanced up at Sarah, as I always did, and for a moment, I thought I was imagining it. Her fingers twitched.

"Sarah?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I stood up, leaning closer. "Sarah, can you hear me?"

Her eyelids fluttered, and then, slowly, they opened.

"Richard?" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it was her.

My heart nearly stopped. I pressed the call button for the nurse, my hands trembling. "You're awake," I said, my voice breaking. "You're really awake."

She looked confused, her gaze darting around the room. "What... What happened?"

"You've been out for weeks," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "There was an accident, but you're safe now. And so is our daughter." "Our daughter?" Her eyes widened, a mixture of wonder and fear.

"She's perfect, Sarah. She's been waiting for you to meet her."

The nurses came in then, followed by a doctor. I stepped back, giving them space to check on her, but I couldn't stop smiling. She was back. Later that day, after the doctors had cleared her, I wheeled Sarah into the NICU. Her hand rested on mine as we approached the incubator.

"She's so small," Sarah whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she looked down at our daughter.

"She's a fighter," I said, my voice soft. "Just like her mom."

The nurse opened the incubator and carefully placed our daughter into Sarah's arms.

The moment was breathtaking. Sarah held her close, her tears falling freely as she whispered to her.

"Hi, baby girl," she said, her voice trembling. "I'm your mommy. I'm so sorry it took me so long to meet you."

I crouched beside them, wrapping my arms around Sarah as we both gazed at the tiny miracle in her arms. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right.noveldrama

A few days later, we were finally discharged. Zoe and Martins insisted on coming along, making a big production out of decorating the house with balloons and a giant "Welcome Home" banner. "Careful, Martins," Zoe said as he tried to hang the banner. "You'll fall and we'll have two invalids to take care of."

"I'm fine," Martins shot back, wobbling on the ladder. "Unlike you, I've got balance."

"Sure you do," Zoe said, rolling her eyes.

Their banter filled the house with laughter, and for the first time in months, it felt like a home again.

Sarah was still weak, but she was determined to care for our daughter. Every time she held her, it was as if the weight of everything we'd been through lifted just a little.

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you," Sarah said one evening as we sat in the nursery. She was rocking the baby to sleep, her voice soft and full of emotion. "For what?" I asked, sitting beside her.

"For being my rock," she said. "For not giving up on me."

I took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don't have to thank me. We're a team, remember? We get through everything together."

A week later, Sarah was strong enough to have a proper conversation about everything that had happened. She wanted to know everything, and I didn't hold back. "Susan planted Isabelle into our lives?" she said, her voice full of disbelief.

"Yes," I said, my tone bitter. "She manipulated her, made her believe I was her dead fiance, and convinced her you were the villain. All because she wanted revenge." Sarah shook her head, cradling our daughter closer. "That woman is unhinged. And Isabelle... I don't even

know what to say."

"She's back in the psychiatric hospital," I said. "And Susan's in prison. They won't hurt us again."

Sarah nodded, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. "It's terrifying, isn't it? How far someone will go when they're consumed by hate."

"It is," I admitted. "But they didn't win. We're here. We're together. And that's all that matters."

Over the following weeks, life slowly returned to normal. Sarah's strength improved daily, and our daughter continued to thrive.

Zoe and Martins were constant fixtures in our lives, their antics providing much-needed comic relief.

"Uncle Martins, you're holding her wrong," Zoe said one afternoon as he tried to cradle the baby. "I'm doing fine," Martins protested, looking slightly panicked as the baby squirmed in his arms. "She's not a football," Zoe said, grabbing the baby from him. "Here, let me show you how it's done." "You're impossible," Martins muttered, but he was smiling.

Their playful arguments became a regular occurrence, filling our home with warmth and laughter. One evening, as we sat together in the living room, Sarah turned to me, her expression serious.

"I don't want to live in fear," she said. "I don't want what happened to define us."

"It won't," I said, taking her hand. "We've been through hell, but we've come out stronger. This is our chance to start fresh."

She smiled then, leaning against me as our daughter slept peacefully in her bassinet. "I love you," she said softly.

"I love you too," I replied.