His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 2

The girl who loved pink roses was the one on the chart.

That night, Niamh couldn't sleep at all.

Jonathan hadn't come home—he was working late, finalizing a deal with a company in Blackspire. Still, he'd promised that wouldn't stop him from taking her to the hospital in the morning.

For days now, Niamh had been feeling a dull ache in her lower belly. Jonathan had already booked her an appointment with a specialist—nine o'clock sharp the next morning.

Honestly, what she'd discovered tonight didn't really mean anything.

Even if Jonathan had only pursued her in the first place to get back at another woman, that was all before they got married.

Since then, Jonathan hadn't exactly been the world's best husband, but he hadn't been a bad one either. Every month, he transferred her living expenses and pocket money on time.

He never forgot holidays or birthdays. This year, he'd given her a pink Burberry suit for her birthday, even though pink was her least favorite color.

As CEO of The Thomas Group, Jonathan was always surrounded by beautiful women. Yet in three years of marriage, there hadn't been a single scandal.

Just once, a gossip blog posted a photo of him with one of the country's hottest young actresses. Jonathan's crisis team sprang into action—by morning, the post had vanished without a trace.

Niamh tossed and turned, unable to sleep, telling herself to stop overthinking.

It wasn't like Jonathan was cheating. Maybe he just didn't love her as much as she'd hoped.

Her mother used to tell her, "Marriage is about compromise. If you're lucky enough to marry someone you love, you need to cherish it."

Niamh had always cherished her marriage.

She loved Jonathan. She'd loved him since she was thirteen—ten whole years now.

But Jonathan didn't know that. He still didn't know.

She picked up her phone and unlocked a password-protected album she hadn't opened since their wedding.

Inside was only one photo. It looked like it had been taken in a cafeteria, though the harsh lighting and drab setting made it feel more like a prison.

A teenage girl stared out from the photo, braces gleaming, her hair dyed a stormy silver and styled in wild waves. No one would ever guess that awkward girl was Niamh—but in the background, leaning against the wall with that confident, boyish grin, was Jonathan.

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