Unbreak Me (Fate’s Choice #3)

DAY

Damn. I couldn’t believe what I had just asked him to do. The whole week had been devoid of anything even remotely close to a physical connection, and suddenly, I made this huge leap. I knew the alcohol probably gave me the courage, but still—what was I thinking? Asking for a handjob?

But one thing was undeniable: I loved being taken care of. For years, I had felt somewhat appreciated during the third trimester when the couples I was surrogating for pampered me, but that had a totally different vibe.

Now, Jan changed the sheets with such care, even being mindful of my nest. He opened my closet, pulled out a T-shirt and boxers, and approached me. I let him dress me, staying more or less passive—it was the state I just… wanted to be in for a while. Letting him take control of my body.

Jan left my room, but soon returned with a glass of orange juice. He brought it to my lips, and I drank greedily, our eyes connected during that. The vitamin C was definitely good for the hangover. Then he lifted me into the air again and gently placed me in the center of my nest. Finally, he pulled a blanket over me… and then leaned down to kiss my forehead.

It was… so new to me. Strangely pleasant.

I truly felt looked out for—someone genuinely cared about me. Me. Not the child in my womb. Jan wanted me to feel good. It was… intoxicating. I could get addicted to that feeling. My whole life, I had been so damn proud of my independence—always alone, strong, and unyielding. But it was exhausting to keep that facade up, to always feel the need to control everything. Letting go like this was so liberating.

As Jan left, I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling empty yet somehow weightless, like I was floating high above the clouds. Somewhere between them, there had to be the light I was searching for. Did I find someone who truly cherished me—someone who wouldn’t leave but would commit to me?

It might’ve been foolish—after all, I didn’t even know where Jan and I stood. But still, I allowed myself that tiny glimmer of hope that I would truly matter to… him one day.

There was one important thing I needed to change: the way I had treated Jan these last few days wasn’t how I’d ever treated Nico. And Jan wasn’t to blame for my past—I shouldn’t take it out on him.

My new husband deserved more—a real chance.

◆◆◆

The next day, I woke up without a headache, which surprised me. I didn’t feel bad—maybe I’d thrown up everything yesterday. I sat up and slowly crawled out of my nest, getting annoyed by its high edges. Perhaps I should do something about that. Why make life harder for myself?

Then I glanced at the bowl.

And everything came rushing back! What happened last night… the vomiting, Jan helping me in more ways than one. The "o" thing. Yep. My cheeks heated up. Good Lord, what had I done? I got drunk and let foolishness take over.

But maybe it wasn’t all bad? Everything had turned out fine in the end. I remembered how he cared for me afterward— wiping me down, carrying me, changing the sheets so carefully. It was sweet. Charming, even.

I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower and to empty my bladder, wondering how things would go between us now. Would there be awkwardness in the air?

It was already about 9 am. Jan usually left for the nursery around this time, and I was curious if I’d still catch him.

Walking slowly downstairs, I realized I’d forgotten to tie my hair. It hung loosely over my shoulders and back. For a moment, I debated returning to my room to fix it but decided against it.

I entered the kitchen and found Jan bustling around the table. He turned when he heard my footsteps, and his handsome face lit up with a warm, sunny smile. This guy was seriously hot.

"Oh, Day! You’re just in time—I finished preparing breakfast!"

He set a series of plates on the table, catching my eye. There were blueberry and strawberry pancakes, toast, salad, and perfectly crispy bacon. My mouth immediately watered.

I glanced up at him and noticed he was looking at me with his head slightly tilted. He smiled again—his typical, shy, gentle smile.

"You look really nice with your hair down. So mysterious, like a woodland nymph."

Once again, I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks. I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat down slowly and said, "Thank you for breakfast—it looks delicious."

The colorful plates filled with mouthwatering food focused my attention. God, I could get addicted to someone taking care of things, treating me like a prince. It was thawing the icy walls around my heart. I wanted to be the center of someone’s world. Screw independence—I wanted to belong.

Not just to anyone. To Jan.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, he held my gaze with his consistently warm, gentle look.

Then Jan sat across from me and served himself some pancakes. I didn’t bring up last night, and I got the feeling he wasn’t going to either. He was leaving it up to me—whether I wanted to talk about it or not. That space he gave me made me feel more at ease.

"This is really yummy," I mumbled, swallowing another bite. And it truly was. I kept eating and eating until the plates were clean, and Jan watched with a wide smile.

"I’m glad you liked it. I should make breakfast like this for you more often."

I wanted to tell him that I had behaved terribly and didn’t deserve his patience and kindness, but all I managed was a simple, "Thank you."

Jan stood up and said, "I’m heading to the raspberry patch now. I need to prune last year’s shoots."

I had half a mind to say I’d like to join him, but something held me back.

He left the kitchen, heading out to the terrace and down the path toward the raspberry field. As he walked, he took out his phone and slowed down to talk to someone.

For some reason, his body language intrigued me—there was a rare, agitated energy about him. I left the house, staying close to the wall, and made my way toward a small grove near the path.

Since he stopped suddenly, I managed to catch snippets of his conversation.

"That's really great news, Uncle! I can't believe we're so lucky that this one disk actually survived. The City Hall is indeed a solid establishment. I need to…" Jan paused and listened for a moment.

"Really? That's fantastic. Give me access to that folder, and I'll go through all the recordings from that day tonight. Where exactly these cameras were? Just in the main corridors, or also in the side ones? That's most important to me…"

Again, a moment of silence, and Jan said excitedly, "Even better, damn it, that's perfect. Tonight I’ll try to go through all of them. I assume Day was in the City Hall during the morning hours, so that definitely narrows down the time window when it could have happened…"

What?!

Fuck! A strange, icy wave washed over me as I realized what Jan was talking about. Unbelievable. He was asking for the recordings… from City Hall, the horrifying day I was there! It could only mean one thing: Jan was actively looking for evidence, for camera footage of the assault.

I staggered and had to grab onto a branch to keep from falling in shock. Why was he doing this? What did he hope to achieve? That madman Ferguson had threatened to kill me, and Jan wanted to take that risk?

A wave of anger flooded over me. At first, I wanted to run to him, demand answers, curse, and cry… but just beneath those tumultuous feelings, something else emerged. Holding back my rising emotions, I realized one obvious thing: Jan cared.

Wasn’t that what I wanted all along?

I meant something to him—what happened to me mattered. He hadn’t let my story go in one ear and out the other. He had taken action. I didn’t yet know exactly what for, but it was clear that he was determined to dig deeper into this mess.

Memories of my visits to therapists flickered in my mind. Their faces, schooled to look polite and interested in my problems. Oh, one more raped omega crying his eyes out on their couches. "Let’s talk about your feelings…" Fuck them. None of them really cared. None of them tried to convince me that I should fight for justice for myself. It was always, "Let’s talk about it for an hour, and thanks for the money."

And I’m not saying they didn’t genuinely want to ease my pain, but we didn’t have a personal bond, and the formal nature of our relationship influenced my healing process. What might work for other people—the distance and objective perspective—just didn't do it for me.

What did I want?

The outrage I saw yesterday in Jan’s eyes! To see the tears, the trembling hands, the devastation, mirroring my own! Jan gave me that. And he wanted to do even more.

As an alpha, his psyche worked a little differently than mine. Alphas were doers, always moving forward, unafraid of confrontation, pursuing their goals much more fiercely than other subgenders.

Could I really blame him for manifesting a nature so opposite to mine—more conservative and cautious?

Maybe, just maybe, I could count to ten before exploding with anger and remind myself that there was much more to gain from our synergy.

"Okay, thank you very much. I'll look into it tonight." Jan ended the call and went toward the raspberry field.

Now I decided to wait and see what would happen.

During lunch, Jan seemed excited, almost restless, and also, for the first time, quite absent-minded. It was usually my specialty—staring into the horizon. This day it was him, deeply immersed in his thoughts. He worked a little longer in the afternoon, but then came back home for dinner.

As soon as he finished eating, he went to his room and locked himself in.

Of course, I knew what he was doing—reviewing the camera footage.

Barely able to hold my nerves, I lay inside my nest, grateful that I hadn't changed its form yet, that it was still so safe. I curled up and closed my eyelids.

No idea why, but somehow I was picking up Jan's emotions! How was that possible? There was a thick wall between us, yet I felt like Jan was almost physically shaking as he went over those files. At one point, a wave of his anger hit my body. What was happening? Why was I receiving it so powerfully? I'd only heard about one such case, but it seemed absolutely unlikely. Or maybe I just imagined the feeling? Yes, that must be it.

I flinched as I heard a knock on the door. Without sitting up, still curled in the nest, I called, "Come in!"

Jan entered slowly. He was pale; his hands trembling. I could see it even from afar—whatever he saw shook him deeply. He stopped by my bed.

"Can I sit here?" he pointed to the edge, just outside the nest area.

"Yes, please."

Or course, I knew what he wanted to say now. In a way, I was glad because it meant he still intended to tell me about his controversial actions.

"Day, I did something I didn’t consult with you about, but I just had to. I hope you’ll forgive me."

"You got the recordings from the City Hall, from the day Ferguson assaulted me."

Jan gaped his mouth. I had never seen such a shocked and surprised expression in my life.

"How? How do you know?"

"I overheard your conversation with Frank."

A minute of silence passed before he asked, "Are you angry?"

For a moment, I stared at him, and he stared at me. Then, unexpectedly to myself, I slowly shook my head.

No more needed to be said. Somehow, I was at peace with what he did.

Jan let out a deep breath.

"I did it because I wanted us to consider all the options, Day. I want us to think together about what we can do. There are different people who could help us handle this matter so that Ferguson is punished. If not legally, then through public opinion."

Everything was swirling in my head. Over these two years, I had built up a massive resistance to the idea of taking any action to punish Ferguson. The man was terrifying. On the other hand, deep inside me, the anger never went away—anger that I had never even tried to fight. Did I let him get away with all of it? Was this my chance now? I wasn’t alone anymore—I had an ally, someone who could take on the burden of dealing with all the unpleasant details.

Speaking slowly, almost hesitantly, I started, "To be honest, I’m surprised you’re even interested in this matter. It happened two years ago, and Ferguson is a powerful, dangerous man. If it were easy to expose him, other people would have done it already. I strongly suspect he had dealings with other omegas I saw near him, but I never heard about any scandal surrounding him, no accusations of abuse. Logically, it would be best to let the matter go." I paused, then added cautiously, "But part of me… wants to know what you think we should do. What is your plan? That’s said, of course… if you found anything on those recordings."

Jan studied my face for a while, then he closed his eyes and whispered, "This sentence may sound logically contradictory, but ‘unfortunately’, yes, I did." He struggled with the next words. "I never wanted to watch something like that, but there were two cameras. Ferguson had exceptionally bad luck; you could say Fate did us a favor. That particular room had an additional camera because a few kids had broken into it before and stolen some furniture from the storage. Everything is recorded. You can see his face clearly; there’s no doubt who he is and what happened there. Everyone can see you trying to fight him, and him dragging you there." Jan’s voice was trembling. I could feel how much it cost him to speak about it.

Our eyes met and mine became treacherously wet, so I quickly raised my gaze to the ceiling as if seeking salvation from this topic. But again, seeing him suffer from it too was like a balm for my wounds:

He saw me. I was SEEN.

Someone knew about my tragedy. Someone felt anger on my behalf. Someone understood that something terrible had happened and didn’t downplay it.

This simple awareness meant so much to me!

"I… suffered," I whispered, my voice breaking.

Jan lowered his head, his jaw tightening. "I know, Day, and I hate him for it. That’s why I can’t just let it go. That’s the reason I asked Frank for help before telling you. Because there’s no doubt in my mind—your suffering has to be avenged. There’s no other option, no fucking way!"

"What do you want to do about it?" My voice was very quiet and trembling, almost inaudible.

"Well, the logical thing would be to go to the police, though they might be pressured or influenced—Ferguson probably has a lot of friends in high places. The second option is to call the Omega Red Line Agency, but that would take a lot of time, they are drowning in cases…" He winced. "It would also take away a certain power from the kind of personal revenge I have in mind: completely destroying him in the public eye."

My gaze darted to him for a second. Jan's face looked different now—grim, maybe even a little scary. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"The state election is very soon, in two weeks. These two means of punishing him would take months. And this man needs to be dealt with much more quickly, and decisively. His career needs to end."

Jan took a deep breath, his expression razor-focused.

"I want to do it threefold, Day. I’ll mirror what he did. That’s why I’m thinking of three strikes to hit him with—one for each time he hurt you."

My whole body was shaking. Inside me, two forces swirled: terror and admiration. And gratitude for what he said.

Someone wanted to pull me out of nothingness, out of ‘meaninglessness’. I could finally stop being nobody—I could be unerased. A small, little me would matter in the end.

"Tell… me… about it," I stammered, my tears streaming continuously.

"The first strike is sending this video to his company, to the board of directors, to have him removed from the CEO position. The second strike is sending this video to the election committee, with whom he wants to run for local elections. And the last one is sending it to his husband. Because I don’t believe it’s right for that omega to be with him—with such a beast who has no conscience."

I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling, still intensely trembling, desperately needing his touch. Slowly, I reached out my hand beyond the edge of the nest. Jan immediately grabbed it, then leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on it.

Almost choking on my own tears, I whispered,

"I agree."