Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 196

In front of others, Lennon always buttoned his shirt all the way to the top—every button fastened with meticulous precision.

He carried himself with a kind of cool detachment, untouchable and distant to strangers. Yet with her, he was different—approachable, warm, and entirely within reach.

Seren felt a strange flutter in her chest.

It was as if, in Lennon's world, she was the only exception to every rule.

He finished blow-drying his hair, shutting out the lakeside view and the mountains with a soft click as he closed the window.

With nothing else to do, Seren slipped off her slippers and climbed into bed.

The wild mountain breeze that usually swept through the house was gone, leaving a still, perfect quiet. Now and then, a bird called outside, but inside, it was peaceful.

Lennon switched off the light and slid into bed beside her. He wrapped an arm around her without hesitation, pulling her close. In the darkness, his lips brushed her forehead—soft, warm, and just a bit ticklish.

Seren couldn't see his expression in the dimness, but she could feel the heat of his gaze lingering on her face.

His voice, low and gentle, sounded right by her ear. "Good night, Mrs. Crestwell."

Women are sentimental creatures—Seren was no exception.

A goodnight kiss on the forehead, and a simple "good night," could move her more than the most extravagant gift.

Right then, her heart was swimming in sweetness.

No wonder women adored the feeling of falling in love; it was so sweet it almost made her shiver.

As night deepened and the world outside grew utterly still, Seren was just drifting off when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She instinctively reached under her pillow, found her phone, and tapped the screen. A text from an unknown number lit up the display.

Seren, you spent three years of your youth helping me walk again. Are you really willing to just walk away?

Sleepiness faded, leaving her wide awake and wordless.

She'd already blocked every number from Riverbend City, but Sheridan had found a way—when calls wouldn't go through, he'd started texting.

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