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

Richard pov Joining Sarah for a prenatal fitness class wasn't exactly what I'd pictured when I thought about preparing for fatherhood.

In my mind, getting ready meant assembling cribs, reading a few books, and maybe practicing how to swaddle a baby without them looking like a crumpled burrito. But when Sarah brought it up, I saw the glint of hope in her eyes, the one that made it impossible to say no.

"Are you sure you wantthere?" I'd asked the night before, already mentally rehearsing my excuses for backing out.

"Of course," she replied, her voice soft but firm. "It'll be good for us. And honestly, I think you'll enjoy it more than you expect." Enjoy it? That was a stretch, but I didn't argue. I wanted to be the kind of partner who showed up, even when it meant stepping into unfamiliar territory.

The stuwas bright and cheerful, with soft instrumental music playing in the background.

It smelled faintly of lavender, the kind of scent that screamed calm, though my nerves were anything but. Couples spread out on yoga mats, chatting and stretching while an instructor-Claire, as she introduced herself- flitted around, adjusting props and greeting everyone.

Sarah set up our mat near the middle of the room, flashinga reassuring smile. "This'll be fun," she said, as if reading my mind.

"Fun, sure," I muttered, tugging at my shirt. It suddenly felt too tight, or maybe that was just my anxiety talking.

Claire started the class with slight stretches and breathing exercises. "Focus on connecting with your partner," she said, her voice as soothing as the background music. "This is about building trust and preparing for the journey ahead." Trust, I had in spades. Flexibility, not so much. As we moved through the stretches, I felt like a tin man in desperate need of oil.

Sarah, on the other hand, looked effortless, her movements smooth and confident despite her growing bump. "You're doing great," she whispered, though I caught the amusement in her tone.

"Sure," I muttered, trying to lower into a squat without my legs giving out. "I'm practically a natural." When we moved on to partner exercises, things got interesting. One drill involved holding Sarah's hands while she leaned back slightly, a move designed to improve balance and coordination.

It seemed straightforward until she actually leaned, and I panicked, overcompensating and nearly toppling us both.

"Whoa!" Sarah exclaimed, clutching my hands tighter as she steadied herself.

"Sorry," I said, my face burning. "I didn't think you'd learn that much." She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think that's the point, Richard. Trust, remember?" I nodded, determined to do better. For the next few minutes, I focused on getting it right, even if my arms felt like jelly by the end.

The final part of the class was a relaxation exercise. Claire dimmed the lights and guided us through a visualization.

"Imagine holding your baby for the first time," she said, her voice soft and steady. "Feel the weight of them in your arms, the warmth, the connection." I closed my eyes, though it felt strange at first. But then I saw it-a tiny bundle, delicate and perfect, nestled in my arms.

The image was so vivid it made my chest tighten, a mix of awe and a flicker of fear. Could I really do this? Could I be the dad this baby deserved? After the class, Sarah and I lingered to thank Claire. She shared spractical tips for supporting Sarah during labor, like how to apply counterpressure for back pain and the importance of staying calm under pressure. I nodded along, taking mental notes.

On the way home, Sarah turned towith a grin. "You survived," she teased.

"Barely," I replied, though I couldn't help but smile. "But hey, I learned a thing or two." "Like what?" "Like how not to pull you over during a trust exercise," I said, earning a laugh from her. "And that I've got a lot of work to do on my squats." At home, I decided to put one of Claire's tips into practice. She'd mentioned using a scarf for a stretching technique, and I figured it couldn't hurt to try.

I rummaged through the closet, finding an old scarf, and approached Sarah, who was lounging on the couch with a book.

"What's that for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me," I said, draping the scarf around her back. "Claire said this could help with tension." She humored me, lettingguide her through the stretch. For a moment, it seemed to work-until I pulled too hard, and the scarf slipped, snapping back like a rubber band. "Ow!" she said, though she was laughing too hard to sound genuinely upset.

"Okay, maybe I'm not quite ready for that one," I admitted, tossing the scarf aside.

"Maybe," she agreed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Later that evening, as we settled into bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the visualization exercise.

The image of holding our baby felt so real, yet so far away. The responsibility ahead waswas starting to sink in; and with it ca nagging doubt. "You okay?" Sarah asked, her voice soft in the darkness.

"Yeah," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure it was true.

"Richard," she pressed, turning to face me. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, then sighed. "Just...

everything. The class today, them baby. It's a lot to take in, you know?"

She reached out, her hand warm against mine. "It is," she said, her tone gentle. "But we're in this together And you're going to be an amazing dad, Richard. I know it." Her words were like a balm, soothing the insecurities I hadn't even fully admitted to myself. "Thanks," I said, my voice quieter than usual.

"Anytime," she replied, her hand squeezing mine.