Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 190

Open the door, and the mountain view greets you; look down, and you see the shimmering lake below. From halfway up the slope, the evening light and the colors of autumn are laid out beneath your feet.

As Lennon climbed the stairs, he balanced a pot of tea in his hands.

Noticing Seren standing outside on the balcony, he called out, "Mrs. Crestwell, it's chilly out here. Why don't you come inside?"

But Seren shook her head stubbornly. "The wind's not that strong," she replied, unwilling to return to her room.

Without another word, Lennon set the teapot down and disappeared inside. Moments later, he returned with a thick jacket, slipping it over her shoulders, and pulled a brown knitted beanie onto her head for good measure.

Warmth wrapped around her, both from the layers and from his quiet care. Seren turned her head, breaking the moment with an almost comically flat question.

"Where did this hat come from?"

She couldn't recall ever owning a hat like this.

Lennon was already heading back inside, but his response drifted out on the breeze. "Had someone pick it up with your change of clothes. Nights get cold in the mountains. Jasper said there's a barbecue on his terrace tonight."

A gentle warmth bloomed in Seren's chest.

Once again, she was struck by Lennon's extraordinary thoughtfulness. He always seemed to anticipate every small detail.

Before Lennon, she'd rarely known what it felt like to be looked after with such genuine care.

Back when she lived with the Bradleys, Zena had always kept her at arm's length.

At Rutledge Manor, Old Mr. and Mrs. Rutledge were far too old to worry much about her.

And in those three years in Riverbend City, sharing a roof with Sheridan, every little thing—big or small—fell on her shoulders. Sheridan, pampered since childhood, never lifted a finger for anything.

Lennon emerged again, this time carrying a small tea table and two wicker chairs onto the balcony.

He was dressed in a black button-down shirt and matching trousers, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms. Tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly handsome—he exuded an unmistakable boyfriend charm.

The mountain scenery suddenly seemed dull by comparison.

Seren had been taking pictures of the view with her phone, but the lens drifted, and Lennon slipped into the frame.

With his long strides, he was standing in front of her in an instant.

Startled, Seren fumbled to turn off her phone screen before she could even save the photo, trying to hide her not-so-innocent admiration for Lennon's looks.

Lennon didn't notice her fluster; he simply arranged the table and chairs and spoke in his usual warm tone. "By the way, the staff just brought up a pot of winter jasmine tea. It's made from this spring's blossoms, dried and steeped. You should try it."

Seren sat primly in the wicker chair, setting her phone aside, her cheeks still faintly warm. "Alright," she replied, trying to sound casual.

She'd loved jasmine tea since she was a child.

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