Like Roses, in Summer's Tender Kiss

Episode 1

Melody Bale walks into a meeting she never wanted. Her father has arranged an engagement to CEO Aaron Zahn, and she arrives expecting the worst—a dull older man. Instead, Aaron has been waiting over an hour, calm and unhurried, and even orders the coffee she prefers over his tea.

She tells him plainly that since a company president sat there waiting for her, she has no right to refuse. The marriage will happen whether they suit each other or not. But before agreeing, she wants a contract with rules—starting with neither interfering in the other's career.

Then a message arrives from her father: she must live in Aaron's home for a year before the wedding, to build feelings and learn to be a good wife.

Episode 2

The engagement rules take shape. Melody insists on terms—no interference in each other's careers, clear boundaries between them. But living under the same roof makes distance harder to keep.

Her friend teases her relentlessly about the arrangement, pointing out that Aaron is only thirty, strikingly handsome, and her actual fiancé. Melody deflects, calling him old and dull, insisting she feels nothing.

Meanwhile, a phone call reveals a small deception: Aaron tells her father he's working late when he's actually beside Melody. She covers for him, explaining he didn't want to interrupt her work. It's a tiny moment—but it hints the two are already protecting each other, whether they admit it or not.

Episode 3

Melody's father checks in, praising how independent she's been and reminding her to be a supportive wife. She promises to learn to be a good homemaker, but her friends aren't buying the act.

They push her about Aaron—how he's handsome, how older men who finally open their hearts burn like an old house catching fire. Melody jokes bitterly that she'll hand him over if they like him so much.

Underneath the jokes, resentment simmers. Three months in, Aaron has never once reached out to her, and she still doesn't even have his contact. When he finally appears and asks for her phone, she's suspicious—what does he really want?

Episode 4

Aaron takes Melody's phone and saves his number into it, explaining he wants to prevent another mix-up like today. Melody accuses him of faking his gentleman act—meeting her father without telling her, leaving her embarrassed.

Aaron answers with unnerving calm: her behavior is hard to predict, but he'll try to cooperate. When she asks why, he says that barring accidents, they'll spend their lives together. Adapting early will make their partnership more efficient and more solid.

Melody agrees—partner, then. But the word sits uneasily. A contract can define boundaries, yet it can't explain why he keeps showing up, or why his quiet certainty unsettles her more than any argument.

Episode 5

At a high-society banquet, Melody shows up in slippers—something the Bale family would never allow. Whispers follow her. She's out of place, and she knows it.

Then Aaron steps in. Here, he tells her, she is his fiancée and doesn't need to consider anyone else. His words land harder than she expects. For a moment she feels something like an illusion—as if she's sketching not just a clumsy pair of heels, but a version of herself she didn't know she wanted.

The protection is public, unmistakable. Melody came ready to endure the night alone. Instead, someone stood beside her without being asked.

Episode 6

After the banquet, Melody needles Aaron: isn't he embarrassed by her slippers? He answers evenly—a man's dignity isn't earned through a woman's shoes. Next time, wear something comfortable. Don't force yourself.

She pushes further, half-joking: so slippers are fine anywhere? Then maybe that should go into the marriage agreement too. Aaron agrees without blinking. She adds it.

As the night ends, the question of whether a hug counts as her answer hangs in the air—love, real or pretend? Melody notices his elegant hands, the kind meant for signing documents, not for holding her. The contract, she thinks, is like a flower blooming among thorns. Beautiful, and painful to touch.

Episode 7

Melody admits she's hungry, and Aaron offers to handle it himself—the aunt who usually cooks is off today. She's startled. This is the first time she's seen him step into a kitchen at all.

He asks about the stove, and she studies it like a foreign object. The scene is oddly domestic: the polished CEO, the unfamiliar kitchen, the small fumbling of two people who don't quite know each other yet.

Melody watches him, skeptical. She assumed a man like Aaron wouldn't know how to cook. But here he is, trying anyway—for her, in his own restrained way. The gap between them feels, for a moment, a little narrower.

Episode 8

Aaron actually cooks. Melody is surprised—she'd assumed he couldn't. He tells her to rest, then serves her a first attempt, urging her to taste it. She does, and admits it's decent, even impressive for a first try.

Then she burns herself on something too hot. Aaron immediately offers to go out and buy her food instead. Melody can't help needling him: so there are things Aaron Zahn can't do after all.

He gives her a look. She protests she wasn't insulting him. It's teasing, but it's also the first time she's seen him less than perfectly composed—and she likes it more than she'll say.

Episode 9

Melody mentions she has a friend gathering that evening. Aaron says she doesn't need to report it to him—then adds that he meant: would she like him to come along? These are his longtime friends, people she'll likely see again.

She agrees. At the gathering, his friends are shocked—Aaron has never brought a woman to meet them before. They tease him mercilessly, trying to embarrass him with old stories but failing.

Melody fits in faster than expected, trading jokes and joining a betting game with the group. The easy warmth of the night surprises her. So does how natural it feels to stand at Aaron's side.

Episode 10

The game continues, and Melody turns out to be better at it than anyone expected. His friends are delighted—she's pretty, lively, and quick. One of them jokes that Aaron got lucky.

Then the questions turn to Aaron himself. How many times has he been in love? The answer stuns the table: never. Not once. This is his first relationship.

The friends don't believe it—he's thirty, and he carries himself like someone with experience. But they concede that his experience is all business; in love, he might be hopeless. Melody is left with a new puzzle: her guarded, unreadable fiancé may be far more inexperienced—and far more sincere—than she assumed.