Roses Rising Above the Thorns

"Stell, I've agreed to return home for the arranged marriage."

Freya Jefferson's calm voice carried clearly through the stillness of the night.

On the other end of the call, Stellan Jefferson finally let out a sigh of relief. "You've finally decided to leave that boyfriend of yours? After all these years together, he wouldn't even agree to come home and meet me or our parents. I've known for a while that it wouldn't work out."

Hearing her brother's confident tone, Freya lowered her gaze and murmured softly in agreement. "I was wrong before. I'll settle everything here as soon as possible. Please handle the wedding arrangements. Just give me two weeks."

"Don't worry about the wedding; we'll take care of all the preparations. You just need to come back on time. This guy is someone Mom, Dad, and I carefully chose for you. He's perfect in every way: background, personality, and looks. I'm sure you'll be satisfied.

"By the way, since you're coming back to get married, make sure to invite someone for me—my old buddy Kenneth. Didn't you stay with his family for a while when you went off to study in Javerton? He took good care of you back then. Remember to ask him to attend the wedding."

Freya didn't know how to respond to that.

After a long pause, she replied quietly, "He won't be able to come."

Before she finished speaking, the door swung open.

Freya swiftly ended the call and looked up at Kenneth Deakin, who had just walked in.

He raised an eyebrow, his face—reckless and arrogant with a hint of roguish charm—breaking into a bold grin.

"I won't be able to go? Go where?" he asked.

"My wedding," Freya thought. But on the surface, she remained calm as she said indifferently, "Nowhere important."

Kenneth didn't press her. He casually and unhurriedly unbuttoned his black shirt.

"Were you on the phone with your brother just now?"

Freya hummed in reply and got up to return to her bedroom. But before she could leave, Kenneth grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms.

His warm breath brushed against her ear, the charged atmosphere thickening between them.

"Did you tell him about our relationship?" he asked again.

Freya smiled, though her smile never reached her eyes. "You didn't want him to know, right?"

"It's not that I don't want him to know—it's that I can't. Knowing Stellan, if he found out his best friend was dating his precious little sister, he'd probably fly to Javerton that very night and beat me so badly I wouldn't be able to get out of bed."

Freya's eyelashes quivered slightly at his joking tone. However, her voice remained solemn as she asked, "So, in your mind, I'm your girlfriend?"

Kenneth raised an eyebrow at her sudden question. "Aren't you my girlfriend? I've been living with you for six years. I hold you the moment I come home. Would I do this to you if you weren't my girlfriend?"

As he spoke, his warm lips grazed the side of her neck.

Freya's body stiffened instantly, and she quickly turned her head away to dodge the kiss. "I... I'm not feeling well today," she stammered.

Kenneth mistook her reaction for shyness and chuckled softly. "My girlfriend, you still get embarrassed even after all this time together." He ruffled her hair affectionately before turning toward the bathroom.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Freya whispered to herself, "Girlfriend?"

Wasn't she supposed to be…a stand-in?

The first time Freya met Kenneth was eight years ago.

Kenneth was Stellan's college roommate. Because of their close friendship, Stellan would often bring him home to play video games together.

Young and inexperienced in love, Freya fell for the aloof, laid-back, devastatingly handsome young man who made her heart skip a beat with just a single glance.

Later, after she graduated high school, Kenneth moved back to Javerton after completing college.

Unable to stop thinking about him, Freya secretly applied to a university in the same city despite her family's objections.

With her striking looks, Freya had been harassed by hooligans during high school.

Stellan, who was worried about her being in a distant city, entrusted her to his best friend Kenneth and even arranged for her to live in his apartment.

In the beginning, the two of them had little interaction. Freya was busy with her studies, while Kenneth was preoccupied with racing and constantly changing girlfriends—sometimes as frequently as every three days.

It wasn't until the second semester of her freshman year that things shifted.

Kenneth came home one night utterly drunk, and Freya scrambled to take care of him.

Late into the night, she gazed at the man sleeping on the couch, his brows furrowed in discomfort. On impulse, she reached out, wanting to smooth those creases.

The moment her fingers brushed his skin, his eyes shot open.

Kenneth lazily opened his eyes and asked, his voice deep and magnetic, "Fancy me?"

Having been exposed, Freya shot to her feet. "N-No..."

Kenneth gave a languid smile. "If you didn't, why does your face turn red every time you see me?"

Freya froze, stunned that every stolen glance of hers had been noticed. Just as she struggled to find a way to respond, Kenneth chuckled and pulled her closer, tilting her head up for a soft kiss.

She was utterly swept away by his tenderness, unable to resist.

Freya's peaceful life changed completely after the night she spent with Kenneth.

Kenneth, once a carefree wanderer, seemed to have turned over a new leaf. He focused entirely on their relationship, showering her with attention and affection.

Freya, in turn, repeatedly defied her parents and brother's insistence that she return home for an arranged marriage. She resolutely stayed in Javerton, choosing to remain by Kenneth's side.

Every time Stellan called, he would question her, "What's in Javerton that keeps you there for six years without coming home?"

Freya always wanted to spill the truth and tell him everything about her relationship with his best friend.

But Kenneth always stopped her.

She never understood why—until a few days ago.

Kenneth had been drinking heavily at a gathering, and Freya went to pick him up. One of his drunk friends pointed at her with a regretful expression and slurred, "How could such a beautiful girl end up being another of this guy's conquests?"

"I'm telling you, don't fall for Kenneth. He doesn't have a heart. You, his ex, and the one before her? You're all just replacements for Charlotte."

That was the first time Freya heard Charlotte Larner's name. From that moment on, it became a name she couldn't forget.

After much inquiry, she finally uncovered the truth.

Kenneth and Charlotte had been each other's first love. In the year he loved her most, Charlotte broke up with him and resolutely left the country.

Unable to move on from the past, Kenneth let himself spiral into indulgence, flitting between relationships and constantly dating new girlfriends.

Every single one of them, in one way or another, bore a resemblance to Charlotte.

Including Freya.

When he refused to take over the family business after graduation and insisted on becoming a race car driver, it was all because of a casual comment Charlotte had made in her youth.

"Guys who race cars are the coolest. My future husband has to be a racer."

Six years of Freya's youth and genuine devotion turned out to be nothing but an illusion.

At that moment, Freya made the decision to return home and agree to the arranged marriage.

She didn't want Kenneth anymore.

And she would never love him again.