His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 587

A ripple disturbed the calm surface of Jonathan’s deep eyes. He remembered it too. Back when they were newly married, Niamh would constantly ask if her cooking suited his taste. He could now clearly recall the cautious hope that had filled her eyes, a detail he had never noticed—or cared about—at the time.

More than once, he had given her a casual, dismissive review. And after he’d uttered that single word, “average,” the light in her eyes would shatter and vanish. The next time she made the same dish, the flavor would be subtly improved. She had always been trying in her own way, striving to be the perfect wife in his eyes.

Though Niamh was the one drinking the coffee, a bitter taste flooded Jonathan’s mouth. It was a bitterness that seeped deep into his heart. But Niamh had been the one suffering back then. He had no right to complain, not then and not now.

“If you don’t like it, don’t drink it. I’ll go make you a new cup.”

Just as Jonathan reached for her mug, Niamh’s hand moved to secure it. Their fingers brushed.

In that instant, a strange jolt, like a tiny electric current, shot up Jonathan’s finger, the tingling sensation spreading all the way to his chest. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers.

Niamh didn’t look away, but her fingers curled slightly. Jonathan’s eyes were beautiful. They were the kind of eyes that could captivate anyone without even a hint of a smile. It would be hard not to be moved by such a gaze—if she didn't know the man they belonged to.

To Jonathan, Niamh’s eyes were just as beautiful, but her gaze was as cold as day-old coffee. This was the woman with whom he had shared countless intimate moments, yet now she seemed as remote and untouchable as a flower on a high, snowy peak.

He instinctively reached out, but Niamh intercepted his hand before it could touch her cheek.

“Ms. Rivers, I can read palms.”

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