Watching You Burn In Regret novel Chapter 20

"You're always running late, aren't you?" Old Mr. Rutledge chided gently, though the affection in his eyes gave him away. "We've been waiting for you all morning."

Seren offered a meek apology. "It's my fault. I'm sorry."

He waved her off, his tone gruff but his gaze soft. "Alright, don't try to sweet-talk your way out of this. Go on, help Lennon and Mrs. Crestwell find their seats."

The three of them sat down together at the table.

Old Mr. Rutledge poured steaming water into the teapot, filling the room with a gentle aroma. The delicate porcelain, painted with slender green reeds, seemed to come alive in the swirl of rising steam.

Seren's eyes prickled unexpectedly. This particular tea set—decorated with wind-blown reeds—was one of Old Mr. Rutledge's prized possessions, usually kept locked away and never brought out for guests. The fact that he'd chosen it today spoke volumes about how important this meeting was to him.

"I just wanted you all to come over for a meal," Old Mr. Rutledge said, turning to Shirley. "There was no need to go to so much trouble bringing all those gifts."

Shirley answered with gentle composure, "Those engagement gifts were prepared long ago. There really wasn't much to do at all."

With the adults conversing, Seren—ever the considerate junior—sat quietly, listening. But Shirley's words caught her off guard, and she glanced up, startled.

The engagement gifts were already prepared?

Sensing her confusion, Shirley added, her tone layered with meaning, "In fact, we set aside these gifts right after Lennon turned eighteen, ten years ago."

Seren missed the implication, only turning to steal a glance at Lennon.

A pang of envy bloomed in her chest. How wonderful it must be to have parents who'd thought about your wedding a decade in advance.

As if reading her mind, Lennon looked up and met her gaze, his eyes bright and intent. "It's true. I started preparing for this day ten years ago."

Seren froze, realizing what he meant. Lennon had prepared those gifts himself.

Ten years ago, Lennon was eighteen. The fact seemed ordinary on its own. But then Seren remembered something Old Mr. Rutledge had said that night—

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