(Roses Across Borders & A Heart That Refuses to Behave)
France felt… different.
Not softer. Not kinder.
Just—lighter.
Aria Larkspur stepped out of the car, tilting her head slightly as sunlight spilled across the grand façade of Newdream Headquarters, standing proudly along the Champs-Élysées like it owned the entire street.
Which, technically…
"OMG," she murmured in her mind, lips curling faintly, "I'm basically rich-rich now."
The system didn't even hesitate.
"Correction: you inherited rich-rich. You didn't earn it."
Aria scoffed internally.
"Details. I look expensive, that's what matters."
---
She walked in like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Nearly 50% shares.
Majority control split between her and Dominic Reyes.
Her parents hadn't just loved her—they'd secured her.
Smart people.
Shame life didn't let them enjoy that intelligence longer.
---
Dominic approached, holding a box.
No teasing. No jokes.
Just quiet seriousness.
"These were left with the lawyer," he said. "There's… a letter too. For you."
Aria's fingers paused mid-air.
For a moment—
She didn't want to take it.
Because letters like that?
They don't bring comfort.
They reopen wounds you worked hard to stitch shut.
Still… she took it.
---
She sat by the window.
White wood. Soft light.
A perfect place to fall apart privately.
The wax seal cracked under her fingers.
Her eyes scanned the page.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And just like that—
Her throat tightened.
—
"Aria… if you're reading this, we're no longer there…"
"Don't be sad…"
"Someone will love you in our place…"
—
Her grip tightened.
Someone will love you?
Her mind flashed—
Ethan.
His voice. His lies. His regret.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"…Great prediction," she muttered bitterly.
"Really nailed that one."
---
She folded the letter.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Like if she handled it gently, she might actually cry.
And she refused.
Absolutely refused.
---
Knock.
"Come in."
A servant entered, carrying flowers.
Aria didn't even look up at first.
"Just leave it—"
She paused.
That wasn't a rose.
Green orchid.
Her gaze sharpened.
"…Oh, he's evolving now?"
The card was already familiar.
She opened it anyway.
—
[Even if I know it's impossible, I will always love you.]
—
Aria stared at it for a full three seconds.
Then—
"Obsessive and poetic. Pick a struggle, Ethan."
The card joined the others.
A whole stack.
Unread. Unanswered. Unwanted.
…and yet, not thrown away.
The system noticed.
Didn't comment.
Smart.
---
"97%," it said instead.
Aria blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Trust level."
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
"You're telling me emotional damage increases loyalty?"
"Apparently."
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"…Men are terrifying."
---
Still—
France wasn't meant for overthinking.
And Aria?
She refused to rot in memories.
"I'm going out," she announced suddenly.
Dominic looked up instantly. "Good."
No hesitation. No control.
Just approval.
"You should," he added. "You've been pretending to be okay. It's getting boring."
Aria narrowed her eyes.
"Wow. Emotional support level: zero."
"Honesty level: excellent."
"…I hate you."
"Noted."
---
Ten minutes later—
"Poland," she declared. "Concert. Pianist I like."
Dominic frowned. "Too far."
"I'm not fragile."
"You literally fainted last month."
"That was dramatic exhaustion, not weakness."
"…That's not a real diagnosis."
"It is now."
---
After much arguing—
Compromise.
Bodyguards.
"Absolutely not," Aria said flatly.
"They'll dress casually."
"…So, stalkers with a dress code?"
"Yes."
"…You're unbelievable."
---
In the end—
She went alone.
Of course she did.
---
Europe unfolded like a dream.
Venice.
Water shimmering under golden light.
Rhine Falls.
Powerful. Untamed.
She stood there, watching the roaring cascade, wind hitting her face—
And for a moment…
Everything inside her quieted.
No Ethan.
No past.
Just—
Existence.
"…Okay," she whispered. "This? Worth it."
---
Provence came next.
No lavender fields.
Wrong season.
Instead—
Green.
Everywhere.
Fresh. Alive. Loud in its own quiet way.
Aria rented a small wooden house.
Simple.
Peaceful.
Dangerous for someone who thinks too much.
---
She wandered markets.
Cooked occasionally.
Even made rose essential oil with a local vendor.
"Look at me," she muttered. "Domestic and mysterious."
"Delusional and bored," the system corrected.
"Same thing."
---
Days passed.
Too quickly.
Too slowly.
Until one thought struck—
"I want to see the aurora."
"Of course you do," the system sighed. "Why not chase the sky while you're at it?"
Aria grinned.
"Exactly."
---
Plans?
Messy.
Flights?
Complicated.
Patience?
Nonexistent.
Just as she was about to give up—
A notification popped.
Direct flight. Norway. Discounted. Limited seats.
Aria blinked.
"…That's suspicious."
"Very."
"…I'm booking it."
"Of course you are."
---
At checkout, the French owner beamed.
"You leave already? Too soon!"
Aria smiled, handing him a small bottle.
"Made this."
He sniffed it—
Eyes widened.
"Magnifique!"
She smirked. "I have talents."
"Stay longer next time. Come during lavender season."
She tipped her hat slightly.
"Next time, I'll steal your flowers."
He laughed.
She didn't clarify if it was a joke.
---
As she stepped into the taxi—
Wind catching her hair, sunlight dancing across her face—
Aria Larkspur felt something unfamiliar.
Not happiness.
Not peace.
But—
Movement.
Forward.
And somewhere, far behind—
A man named Ethan Vale was still standing in the ruins of what he lost.
While she?
She was already chasing the sky.