Hearing Jonathan call her “Nia” over and over, Niamh felt a shiver crawl up her spine.
Still, she couldn’t let it show in front of her mother. Gemma couldn’t know that she and Jonathan were in the middle of a divorce.
So Niamh slid into the seat beside Jonathan, forcing a smile.
Jonathan, ever the perfect son–in–law, served food onto both her and her mother’s plates.
“Nia’s cooking is as wonderful as ever,” Gemma said, patting Niamh’s shoulder with a well–meaning sigh. “But if Jonathan eats your food every day, I bet he gets tired of it, doesn’t he? You really should try some new recipes once in a while. He works so hard out there, and as his wife, if you can’t have a hearty dinner waiting when he comes home, that’s just not right.”
“I know, Mom. Don’t worry about it,” Niamh replied. Outwardly, she played along, but inside, her heart ached.
Gemma was the picture of the traditional, devoted wife, and she’d raised Niamh to follow in her footsteps.
At first, Niamh had agreed–especially because she’d loved Jonathan so much.
She’d been willing to give up anything for him: her degree, her career. She had no job, depended entirely on Jonathan, and had always believed it was only right to cook and clean for him every day.
Just like her mother always said: to be a good wife, she had to take care of him.
For three years, she’d never complained.
But her devotion and effort went unnoticed–not just by Jonathan, but by the whole Thomas family.
Sometimes, Niamh wondered if even her own mother truly saw her.
She watched as Gemma, oblivious, heaped more food onto Jonathan’s plate.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Jonathan said smoothly, his tone gentler than usual, almost affectionate. “Nia’s cooking is amazing. I could eat it every day and never get tired
of it.”
He sounded, for all the world, like the perfect husband. Niamh had to
1/2
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admit–Jonathan’s acting was better than she’d expected
But maybe that was the problem. He was so good at pretending, you could never tell what was real and what was a lie. She’d never even realized, back when he courted her, that he was only using her to get back at another woman.
The dinner was pleasant, at least on the surface. Gemma’s smile never faded.
Niamh knew it was all for show, but if her mother could be this happy–even just for a little while–did it really matter if it was real?
After dinner, she and Jonathan took Gemma for a walk in the garden. When Gemma went in for her afternoon nap, accompanied by her nurse, Niamh and Jonathan strolled through the courtyard, side by side. To any outsider, they looked like a loving couple–nobody would guess they were about to divorce.
Jonathan explained that Gemma had suddenly become lucid that morning. Well, not exactly lucid–her moments of clarity came and went. There had been times before when she’d recognized Niamh, only to lapse into confusion again.
This time, Gemma had insisted on seeing her daughter, and since the nurse only had Jonathan’s number, they’d called him.
“She thinks we’re newlyweds,” he said quietly.
“She’s still pretty confused,” Niamh sighed.
“At least she’s not getting worse.”
“Yeah.”
A moment of silence fell between them.
Then Niamh spoke first. “Thank you for today. Next time something like this happens, the nurse can just call me directly.”
Jonathan shrugged off her gratitude. “No need to thank me. It wasn’t any trouble.”
With Gemma gone, his demeanor snapped back to its usual coldness. But what he said next surprised her.
“It’s not so bad to visit her sometimes.”
Niamh’s reply was automatic. “Why?”
After all, they were about to get divorced. Once it was final, she wouldn’t be his wife, and her mother wouldn’t have anything to do with him anymore.
Chapter 212
Chapter 212
