His Housewife Had Secret Identities novel Chapter 691

“This… is for you…”

As he held out the gift, Niamh noticed that Jonathan wasn't looking at her. It was a nervous avoidance, a sign of his unease. His hands were unsteady, and a few beads of sweat had even formed at his temples. She hadn't intended to accept the gift, but his reaction made her instinctively reach out.

The palm-sized gift box was exquisite. Niamh opened it immediately. Inside was a necklace.

In Niamh's experience, if Jonathan were to give her a necklace, he would have chosen one with a large carat gemstone or a dramatic design, something that matched his bold and ostentatious style.

But this one was different. It was a delicate rose gold chain perfect for everyday wear. The pendant was a uniquely crafted firefly, studded with various tiny gems, with a single, glowing fluorite stone at the bottom serving as the perfect finishing touch.

“This is…”

“It’s a firefly,” Jonathan explained.

Niamh’s heart skipped a beat.

A firefly… She was certain he had chosen this necklace for a reason.

Once, during a night at the youth detention center, Jonathan had secretly caught a firefly for her. A real one. It had been like a guiding beacon in the night, bringing a glimmer of hope to the oppressive confines of the center. The next day, however, the firefly had died, and Niamh couldn’t help but cry.

“You didn’t even cry when you were thrown in solitary. It’s just a dead firefly!” Jonathan had meant to comfort her, but he didn’t understand. What she was mourning wasn’t the firefly itself, but the fact that the firefly he had given her had died.

Jonathan couldn't bring himself to tell Niamh about the dream he’d had while unconscious—a dream where she had remarried him. She was his wife. That was why he couldn't contain his fury when he heard her, dressed in a wedding gown, say she was going to marry Elmer. But telling her now would only sound like an excuse. She might even think that having such a dream was a form of violation.

Jonathan ran a hand over his face in distress. “Think of it as an apology… or a thank-you gift for waking me up… either is fine.”

As soon as he finished, Niamh snapped the lid shut. “I don’t need an apology or a thank-you gift.” She thrust the box back at him.

A shadow of disappointment fell over Jonathan’s face.

“I’m not bothered by what happened last night, so you don’t need to be either.” Niamh’s nonchalance felt like a punch to Jonathan’s chest. He would have preferred her to be angry, to yell at him, to hit him.