His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 653

Pasta and vegetable salad. The two dishes struck a chord with Jonathan. They were the very same dishes he'd once bullied the cafeteria lady into making for Rina back at the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center. His heart began to pound, harder and harder. Jonathan could no longer convince himself it was all just a coincidence.

Inside the hospital room, Niamh watched as Elmer placed the pork and potatoes in front of her, and her stomach immediately rumbled in anticipation. But before she could even pick up her fork, Jonathan, who was supposed to have left, suddenly strode back in.

"Were you ever in the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center during middle school?!" he demanded loudly.

Niamh's fork clattered to the floor.

Elmer, hearing this, looked utterly astonished. He glanced from Jonathan to Niamh, whose expression said it all. So, Nia had been locked up in the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center? Elmer tilted his head, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief on his face. A place like that was for young offenders. And while the one in Aldenville might have billed itself as a 'correctional school,' everyone knew you didn't end up there unless you'd gotten into real trouble. Elmer's gaze fell on Niamh. What could she have possibly done back in middle school? And… how did Jonathan know about it?

As Elmer's mind raced, Niamh's own heart was a maelstrom of emotions. She thought… he probably remembered her. After all this time, Jonathan finally remembered the girl from the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center with the long, ash-gray hair and a mouth full of braces. But… what was the point? It was too late. Niamh gave a self-deprecating smile. For her, that brief time in the center was an unforgettable, defining experience that she had carried with her for a lifetime. But Jonathan was only just now remembering.

"Niamh…" Jonathan's eyes burned with intensity, desperate for a confirmation from her lips.

Yet, Niamh remained silent. She didn't say a word.

Just then, Lana woke up. "Lana!" Niamh's attention immediately shifted to her friend.

Standing to the side, Jonathan sensed that Niamh had no intention of discussing the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center with him.

"No," Jonathan cut him off. "This time, I need to know if Niamh was ever in the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center during middle school."

His decisive tone made everything click for Prescott. "Yes, sir. I'll get on it right away."

By the time Jonathan left the hospital, the rain had stopped. But the sky remained a heavy, oppressive black, with no sign of clearing. He got back into his car but didn't start the engine. He was waiting.

The minutes ticked by. Cigarette butts littered the ground by his car. Finally, his phone rang, its chime piercingly loud in the quiet of the late-night hospital.