His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 532

“Because I’m just the perfect little housewife and your bedwarmer, is that it?”

“……”

Jonathan clamped his jaw shut, silent.

Those labels—every single one—were the ones he’d once slapped on Niamh himself.

Now, each one felt like a knife turning in his own gut.

He couldn’t even imagine how much it must have hurt Niamh, back then, to hear the man she loved sum her up like that. Surely, it was a pain far sharper than anything he felt now.

Seeing Jonathan lost in a long silence, Niamh wrenched herself out of his grip.

“Jonathan, we’re divorced. The only thing left is for city hall to update their records.”

Her voice was crisp, decisive.

“As long as city hall’s system hasn’t changed, we’re still married,” Jonathan replied, far too calm for her liking.

Niamh felt so frustrated she could scream.

“What exactly do you want from me?!”

“Just saying hello to my new neighbor, that’s all.”

“What?”

She stared at him, completely missing his meaning.

Jonathan’s lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Starting today, I’ll be living right next door. As your new neighbor, I hope you’ll look after me.”

He extended his hand. Niamh stared at it, wide-eyed and frozen.

He was moving in next door?

“So what, you’re trying to force me to move out now?” she shot back, slapping his hand away.

Jonathan’s palm tingled, but he only smiled and shook his head.

“You won’t.”

“……”

“This place is full of memories—just you and your mother, making a life together. I know you’re sentimental about things like that.”

“Don’t pretend you know me so well,” Niamh snapped.

Then, drifting through the walls, she heard the sound of a piano.

It was coming from next door—Jonathan’s apartment. Of course, he was the one playing.

She recognized the piece instantly.

A Chopin nocturne—her favorite, and the one she played best.

The lilting melody eased her headache, but her heart only grew more restless.

Why was Jonathan playing that song?

Years ago, at the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, she’d played this very nocturne for him.

But Jonathan didn’t remember Rina from those days, and there’s no way he’d recall the song she played.

It had to be just a coincidence.

Closing her eyes, Niamh finally drifted off to sleep.

Next door, as the final notes faded, Jonathan glanced at his phone and saw a message from Prescott on WhatsApp:

Mr. Thomas, the people from The Vipers’ Nest will arrive tomorrow.