His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 419

Niamh couldn’t miss the subtle note of hope in Jonathan’s voice.

She smiled, brushing it off with a casual reply.

“Because I have a conscience. I’m not about to argue with someone who’s unwell.”

As she spoke, she reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a container of soup.

“That’s it? Just your conscience?”

Niamh’s hand paused for a moment.

“Niamh, is it really that difficult for you to admit you still care about me?” Jonathan suddenly reached out and took her hand.

This time, his palm was warm.

Jonathan half-expected her to jerk her hand away immediately.

But Niamh didn’t.

“Jonathan…” She shot him a sideways glance, her eyes as calm and still as a winter lake.

Jonathan, on the other hand, felt a sudden wave of restlessness.

“We were together for years, Jonathan. You should know me by now. Think about it—three years ago, would I have shown up at your hospital room with some takeout soup from the diner across the street for your dinner?”

As the words left her mouth, Jonathan’s grip on her hand loosened, his palm suddenly cold and clammy.

A deep frown creased his brow, his face darkening with frustration.

She was right.

Three years ago, Niamh would have cooked for him herself, no matter how late it was. She’d have handpicked the freshest ingredients and made sure he had the most nourishing meal.

Jonathan had been sick before during their three years of marriage. Every single time, she made him homemade soup.

When Jonathan let go, Niamh poured the takeout soup into a disposable bowl and handed it over.

“I don’t want this.”

Without a word, Niamh took the bowl back.

“Then order something yourself,” she said.

Jonathan shot her a frosty look and reached out again.

Niamh handed the bowl over once more.

Jonathan took a spoonful. The soup from the little diner tasted bland, almost bitter, nothing like the comforting flavors of Niamh’s cooking.

He found himself missing her food terribly.

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