Riventhal.

Early this morning, Nathan Mills woke up, but truth be told, ever since Trevor left last night, he had been sitting alone on the terrace, pondering life for quite some time, which led to his insomnia.

Though he didn’t sleep well last night, which should have made him feel quite exhausted, he woke up very early today.

Moreover, he did something particularly romantic early in the morning, something he had been contemplating for a long time last night, and now he immediately put it into action.

In the courtyard of the villa where he often stayed, two small trucks were parked, and ten workers were carefully unloading rose seedlings from the trucks, the roots wrapped in thick soil.

A small sedan slowly drove in and also parked not far away.

The car door opened, and Mrs. Hawthorne got out, elegantly dressed, she walked towards Nathan Mills with graceful steps, the early winter wind brushing against her face, she wrapped her cloak tighter.

The inherent elegance always accompanied her.

Nathan Mills was directing behind the truck, "Be slow, be sure not to damage the roots, and don’t let the soil fall off, take your time, but make sure to do it right."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned his gaze towards Mrs. Hawthorne.

Then he started helping with the moving, as if these rose seedlings were more important than any guest.

Mrs. Hawthorne didn’t mind, she came over to his side.

"Good morning." Nathan Mills took a moment to look at her, "It’s really tough on you today, getting up so early."

Holding a rose seedling in his hand, his eyes fell back on the workers transplanting the roses, "You all need to be careful, don’t let the soil fall off."

Mrs. Hawthorne said, "It’s fine, I’m used to getting up early anyway."

"Of course, a big thank you for your generosity, practically moving half your garden here. I hope these little fellows thrive." Nathan Mills was filled with hope.

Mrs. Hawthorne, although she liked roses, she was the type of person who believes sharing a rose leaves its fragrance on one’s hand.

Especially when it was requested by her best friend’s ex-husband?

"Compared to a relationship that can be repaired, what do half a garden of roses mean?" The elegant middle-aged woman smiled, looking at everyone.

She too anticipated the day this place would become a garden full of roses.

Many of these seedlings already have buds, and the soil wrapped around the roots is quite thick, giving them a good chance of survival.

Upon hearing her words, Nathan Mills sighed softly in his heart, "I hope she will like it."

In his view, the fact that his ex-wife Carlotta agreed to stay in his vacant little mansion proved that the barriers in her heart had diminished significantly.

For Janelle, and to make amends for the regrets in his own heart, he was willing to do what he could.

"Newly planted roses need a thorough watering, there’s no snow yet, so the temperature is actually suitable, and with so much soil at the roots, the survival rate is quite high." Mrs. Hawthorne was not worried that her roses would die.

"Alright." Nathan Mills was filled with gratitude, "Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne."

"As Carlotta’s best friend, I naturally hope she finds happiness." The woman turned her eyes to him, "My husband and I have also talked about this topic, and he agrees that getting remarried is the best choice, Carlotta’s temperament can only be tolerated by you."

The middle-aged man clasped his hands behind his back, raising his eyes towards the sky where clouds drifted, his eyes slightly squinted, "Tolerance is born of care."

Mrs. Hawthorne turned to look at the whitening strands of his hair, seeing the traces of time, and wondered—what kind of regret is it to miss life’s most beautiful years?