“So, faking your death was never the goal. It was just a means to an end,” Elmer stated, his voice low. “Your real plan was to give birth to Marlin in secret during that time. By that logic, you must have been pregnant before you ‘died.’ Flynn was just a smokescreen, a decoy.”
After he finished speaking, Niamh didn’t confirm his theory, but she didn’t deny it either.
Even though he had never laid eyes on Marlin, Elmer was certain the boy was Jonathan’s child.
He couldn't imagine Niamh choosing to keep a child from any other man.
Elmer’s lips parted, but he swallowed the words he was about to say: *You still have feelings for Jonathan.*
He knew she would never admit it. And even if she did, it wouldn't mean she’d reconcile with him.
A wave of irritation washed over Elmer, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint.
“Don’t you think what you’re doing is a little cruel to Jonathan?”
Niamh stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “Since when did you start taking his side?”
Seeing her baffled expression, Elmer’s shoulders slumped, and he sighed. “Maybe it’s because… for the two years you were ‘dead,’ he went to your grave to pay his respects. Every. Single. Day.”
“…What?” Niamh froze.
Her reaction didn’t surprise Elmer. He knew it was the kind of thing Jonathan would never tell her himself.
“You know, I always thought… I was a pretty devoted person,” Elmer said, a strange, self-deprecating tone in his voice.
Niamh tilted her head, confused by his sudden praise of himself.
Elmer had been in love with her since they first met in high school. He had loved her through everything—even when he was in a coma, even after she married and divorced.
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