Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart

Sarah's

pov.

The evening started with a quiet, tense mood that I was determined to shake off. Richard had been distracted ever since his old associate, James, had shown up out of nowhere with some vague warning. I could see it in his eyes-a darkness, a worry that gnawed at him, even though he tried to hide it behind a calm face. I wanted to pull him out of it, just for a while. "Let's play a game," I blurted out, grinning and hoping he'd get into the spirit.

He looked up, confused. "A game?"

"Yes, a game. Something simple, fun." I grabbed a stack of cards from the living room drawer. "Come on, when was the last time we played anything? Besides, I'm feeling pretty competitive tonight." Richard's mouth quirked into a small smile. "You're challenging me to a game night?"

I leaned in, waggling my eyebrows. "Scared?"

He chuckled, finally giving in. "Alright, bring it on. What are we playing?"

Half an hour later, we were knee-deep in cards and dice, with the coffee table covered in snacks.

I could see his tension melting away, replaced by that playful side of him I loved. I held my breath, ready to roll for my turn, when I noticed him sneaking a look at my cards.

"Hey! No peeking!" I smacked his hand, laughing.

"I was just... assessing my opponent," he said, shrugging innocently.

I rolled my eyes. "Assess all you want. I'm still going to win."

We played round after round, laughing and tossing playful insults back and forth. It felt like we were two teenagers again, just enjoying each other's company, with no one else in the world.

For a while, I forgot about James and his warning. But every so often, I'd catch Richard glancing toward the door or out the window, as if expecting someone else to be there.

"Richard, look at me," I said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand.

He looked down at our intertwined fingers and then back up at me. "Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm just... distracted."

"I know," I said, squeezing his hand. "But whatever it is, we'll handle it together, okay?"

He gave a small nod, and I could see a bit of the worry fade from his eyes. "Thanks, Sarah. I... I needed this."

I squeezed his hand back, smiling. "Always."

Hours passed, and the game night turned into one of those endless nights of laughter. Richard had relaxed completely by now, his laughter filling the room as we wrapped up yet another round.

I felt warm and happy, watching him like this. The tension from earlier was gone, replaced by the easy, comfortable silence of just being together.

"So, should I start making the victory speech?" I teased, stretching and trying to suppress a yawn.

Richard chuckled, putting away the cards. "I'll let you have this one. I don't think I could stay up for another round."

I watched him as he packed up, feeling a surge of affection. "Maybe we'll do a rematch sometime?"

"Only if you're prepared to lose next time," he shot back, his eyes glinting with mock

seriousness.

I laughed, brushing crumbs off my lap. "We'll see about that."

As we finally decided to call it a night, Richard leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. "Thanks, Sarah. For distracting me." "Anytime," I murmured, feeling a flutter in my chest.

We had more fun before heading back to bed, I couldn't sleep, and I found Richard tossing on the bed.

When I was sure his breathing had evened, I snuck up to work. Zoe had been such a darling, she had achieved more than I have her credit for.

I looked at the reports, smiling contentedly, we chatted, with her telling me about the events in Madrid, and to be honest, I've missed Madrid. But my life is with Richard, I glanced at his sleeping face under the illuminated glow of the bedside lamp.

He looked so peaceful and handsome in contrast to his worried expression earlier today.

Why had James come back? And why did Rochard look so worried about his presence?

He only told me they had a fallout and nothing else. I finished up with the work with Zoe and headed back to sleep beside Richard.

***

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual, my mind still drifting back to last night. It was peaceful-just us, no stress, no worries.

But as I made my way to the kitchen, the memory of James's strange words crept back in.

Just as I poured myself a cup of coffee, there was a knock at the door. I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was barely nine in the morning. Who'd be here so early?

I opened to see one of the security man saying there's a package for me, confused, I asked him to bring the postman along.

Minutes later, opening the door, I found a man in a postal uniform, holding a small envelope. "Miss Sarah?" he asked, glancing down at the letter in his hand. "Yes, that's me," I replied, trying to hide my confusion.

"Sign here, please," he said, handing me a small clipboard.

I signed, taking the envelope. There was no sender, just my name in neat, small handwriting. My stomach twisted in a strange way.

Who would send me something like this?

"Have a good day," the postman said, tipping his hat before turning and walking back with the security man back outside.

I closed the door slowly, still staring down at the envelope. It was simple, plain. But something about it felt... wrong. I couldn't explain it, just a weird, gut feeling.

Taking a deep breath, I tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The message was typed, cold and blunt.

"Meet me or you'll regret it."

My heart skipped a beat, a chill running down my spine. I read it again, hoping I'd misunderstood. But there it was-clear, simple, threatening.

I leaned against the wall, gripping the paper tightly. Who would send this? Why?