Unbreak Me (Fate’s Choice #3)

JAN. 2

"May I help you with something?"

Suddenly, I heard a voice behind me and nervously turned around, only to see a short, older omega—a Fate’s Choice employee—looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes.

I was aware that one employee usually oversaw several booths, so me staring so persistently at the information board must have caught his attention.

"Um… just reading some information," I muttered, sounding stupid. After all, it wasn’t Wikipedia, so one couldn’t get caught reading about polar bears and be glued to the screen for minutes on end.

The employee observed me attentively. I noticed his nostrils twitching; he was probably trying to gauge if I was a beta, but soon his expression subtly changed.

"Do you want to purchase the right to have a few minutes’ conversation with Day?" he asked kindly, a wide smile spreading across his face as he took an even deeper inhale.

Yep, the story of my life, everyone had to confirm my alpha status with their… sense of smell.

"We have a discount today."

I knew that everybody interested in contractees had to first buy the opportunity for a conversation, usually costing at least $250. It was a preventative measure to stop onlookers from engaging in discussions without serious intentions.

"No, I’ll just go," I muttered, still feeling foolish.

And there it was again—my insecurities, the ones I had gained throughout the years of constant rejection. They surfaced and made me… not even try.

Uncle Frank was so right about me. Dammit, I just defaulted to giving up. Permanently.

Ashamed of myself and avoiding looking at both omegas, I turned away and headed toward the end of the aisle, my stomach hurting and my throat constricted.

But why such a reaction? Was I even interested in this omega?

Let’s face it—I was. Something about him struck a nerve in a strange way. He intrigued me. Should I turn around and try after all? But now I would look even more ridiculous, or just unstable.

Suddenly, I saw an extremely tall alpha with strange dark burgundy-slash-dark-purple hair hurrying toward me. The guy was practically running!

Borderline intimidated, because of how crazy tall he was and, uh, overwhelmingly handsome, I stopped in my tracks. But he approached me with a big smile and said,

"Hello, I’m Storm Nolan."

"Um… right. Jan Wilson."

"Pleasure to meet you! I’m a client assistant and Day’s case guardian, and I noticed you were reading his information board. Did something catch your attention? Perhaps you’d like to have a short conversation with Day. I can offer a significant discount on behalf of the company!"

Should I? I hesitated. Why did Day make such an impression on me? It wasn’t even about his looks but something about him—arrogantly smoking cigarettes and his… disdainful expression. These were truly twisted and incomprehensible reasons to be interested in any person.

But Nolan had such a wide smile, and his hands, gestures, his whole body language… they all guided me back toward the glass booth! Involuntarily, I followed, almost afraid to oppose him, sensing his slightly creepy, crazily determined energy.

However, when we stood back next to the booth, Day unexpectedly leaned toward the intercom button. Only then did I realize that all omegas had a small microphone located near their elbow, allowing them to talk to people outside.

"No! No betas!" came a gruff voice from inside.

Yep. There it was. I felt like I had been slapped in the face. Silly me. Of course, he thought I was just a beta!

I shouldn’t have been surprised, yet it happened again in my life, and it was… disappointing. Once more, I was excluded from the pool of candidates simply because of my appearance. The odd one out, for the thousandth time.

A hint of embarrassment appeared on Storm Nolan’s face. He must have felt awkward because he was standing right next to me and knew I was an alpha, but before he could say anything, perhaps explain it to Day, I quickly stepped back.

"Sorry, I’m leaving!"

Turning around in a hurry, I was glad to have found an excuse for my retreat. I was just so used to losing that it was almost a relief. Everything was going as I expected—a sick way of thinking, and yet this self-fulfilling prophecy seemed to be my daily routine.

Shifting my feet rapidly, I began to sprint away, but… I soon heard Storm Nolan’s relentless footsteps behind me.

He caught up with me when I was almost leaving the aisle, 20 yards from Day’s booth.

"Please wait, Mr. Wilson!"

"For what?" I retorted over my shoulder without even stopping.

"Please, just a second—stop!"

"I don’t feel like it. I don’t intend to!" I snapped, speeding up my pace, but he firmly grabbed my arm and turned me toward him with ease.

This guy had strength, I had to admit, and I didn't consider myself a weakling—I spent long hours in my basement gym. But his hand felt like it was made of steel.

"Mr. Wilson, literally just a moment. Please, give me a chance!"

I looked up at him. Yeah, up. He was so tall that I had to tilt my head back to look into his luminescent turquoise eyes. Strange contact lenses—very unprofessional to wear in his workplace. It wasn't a ‘vampire party’ at the nightclub, after all.

"This is the story of my life, Mr. Nolan. Omegas mistake me for a beta, and I’m written off right away. I’m tired of being misgendered. Of explaining my gender. Explaining why I am different."

"Mr. Wilson, Day’s on suppressants—he can’t sense you, especially inside that booth. I’ve been off suppressants for a few days myself and am freshly starting to regain my sense of smell, but I can certainly tell you’re an unmated alpha! So good news, we don’t have a problem!"

I sighed and grimaced, sniffing him as well. He was a mated alpha, a hint of his omega scent present in his pheromones.

"Just my height doesn’t match an alpha, huh? Do I have to explain it to you, too?"

"It’s not my concern; people come in all sizes. All alphas don’t have to be the same height—" he paused, perhaps not wanting to sound too patronizing. "Sorry, I just wanted to say—give Day a chance. He puts up a tough front, but he really wants someone to choose him—"

"No, I’m not going where I’m not welcome!"

"Please, Mr. Wilson. That’s irrational; Day can’t smell you! He wouldn’t reject you if he knew—"

"Well, I won’t correct his mistake. Please let me go!"

Pitifully, my pride won, once again.

But he still held onto my arm, even tightening his grip. "Mr. Wilson, I strongly urge you to talk to Day. I have a feeling this could be IT for you!"

I scoffed. "What are you babbling about?!" Finally, I yanked my arm out of his grasp and stepped back. Although I had a feeling that he let me go, if he hadn’t, I would probably still be trapped in his hold.

"Please leave me alone, mister! I’m going!"

He pursed his lips, seeing me turning away. "Why did you even stop at that board? Something happened there, right? Something compelled you to read his details!"

Not expecting him to say this, I hesitated, glanced back and stopped half a step further.

"Just curiosity; I saw he’d smoked, and I thought maybe he really didn't want his contract to be bought."

"Day only gives off that impression, but he really wants someone to choose him despite everything. He's hurt and proud, humiliated to be here. We insisted on it. He deserves a chance. He wants to be chosen despite… what he presents there, in the booth," Nolan said softly, almost with a pleading tone.

"You know what? I'd also like someone to choose me despite everything, but I don't have that luxury!" I blurted out.

"Please, just give him a chance!"

"Please just leave me alone!"

Suddenly feeling like a tantrum-prone teenager, I turned around quickly and walked away, heading in a random direction and leaving Nolan in the middle of the aisle.

What the fuck was going on with me? Immensely and unreasonably agitated, I strode toward the cafeteria, which wasn’t crowded at this hour. I ordered a juice and a sandwich, my lips bitten almost to blood. I had trouble controlling myself, but I didn’t know why.

Sitting in a corner for half an hour, fighting off weird waves of nerves running through my body, I felt both sadness and humiliation.

Why the hell did I even come here? The stupid plan to fend off Uncle Frank… Even a raggedly dressed smoker in Section C treated me like all the other omegas at dance parties. As a beta. Inadequate. I was always written off. At first sight, from the very beginning.

Was I pitying myself?

Yes. But who wouldn’t give up after being rejected countless times, for fuck’s sake? Feeling the painfully persistent disappointment, I squeezed my eyelids shut.

Could someone, just once in my life, look at me and say:

Yes, I choose you, Jan. Yes, you're the one I want, without any ‘buts’.

For a moment, I hesitated.

Then it suddenly hit me. What if no one had that luxury? What if we all had to struggle through our lives, stumbling every step of the way?

What if I wanted too much? What if everyone was someone else’s ‘second choice’?

Was I just making a fuss unnecessarily? Sadly, after so many years of failures, I guess I couldn’t approach it with a clear head.

Still, with a masochistic sense of relief, I concluded that the fair had been yet another one of Uncle Frank’s insane ideas. I promised myself I wouldn’t let him talk me into participating in such nonsense ever again.

With that decision firmly made, I left the cafeteria and headed for the side exit—the main one was way too crowded.

To the left of the exit was a designated area where contractees gathered to smoke.

To my surprise, I noticed… Day standing there, too.

My heart sped up. I had no idea why he was out there when he had no problem smoking inside his glass booth! Maybe he just wanted some ‘fresh’ air? Or to stretch his legs? He stood leaning casually against the wall, smoking a cigarette at a significant distance from the other contractees, who were chatting animatedly. He looked like he didn’t belong.

As I got closer, he turned and glared at me. A shiver ran down my spine again. For some reason, I got even more insecure. I averted my eyes, regret filling my heart as I headed toward the parking lot. It felt like a thin rubber line stretched between us—one that would snap at any moment as I walked away. It actually hurt, and I slowed down…

Suddenly, I witnessed another scene. From a nearby parked car emerged a short, slightly chubby omega with curly red-pinkish hair and a large, rose-shaped birthmark on his cheek.

He was heading toward the building in the opposite direction of where I was going. Then, a smile lit up his face—like sunlight breaking through clouds—as his eyes locked on someone walking behind me. I stopped.

I don’t know why—I had no reason to care. But then I turned to see who he was looking at with such joy, and my jaw nearly dropped.

It was Storm Nolan!

Nolan scooped the little omega up into his arms and spun him around in the air before they exchanged passionate kisses.

I stood there, dumbfounded, staring even though I knew I shouldn’t. I should’ve looked away, but I couldn’t. Painful jealousy stabbed at my heart.

The omega noticed me over Nolan’s shoulder and muttered something to him.

Nolan turned quickly. Evidently, he hadn’t recognized me from behind. He put the omega down, took his hand in a loving gesture, and approached me.

"Mr. Wilson, maybe I can still persuade you to give Day another chance? Trust me—I have a really extraordinary intuition!" he said, almost pleading.

"He really does!" the chubby omega added enthusiastically, his wide smile radiating pure happiness. He practically glowed, his entire aura so bright it made my heart tighten once again with an unpleasant pang of unhealthy jealousy.

Other people were happy, in love, but I didn’t have that. Was it my own doing?

"Please, Mr. Wilson, I beg you. Give Day a chance. You two are connected—"

I don’t know why, but I suddenly blurted out to the omega, "Is he your husband?"

Why did I care? I was completely jittery, feeling like jelly inside.

The guy practically beamed. "Even better! He’s my True Mate!"

They were? I froze, blinking in disbelief. Such a strange match. The alpha was a hunk, and while the omega looked cute, he definitely wasn’t in the same league as Nolan. But the fact that this guy had found his True Mate shifted something in me. Maybe Nolan’s words carried some weight after all? It surely wasn’t a logical conclusion—it could’ve been a coincidence—but it gave me the tiny push I needed.

Feeling reckless—like I was diving into uncharted waters—I asked weakly, "Do you really have such good intuition?"

"Yes! Excellent!" Nolan grinned. "I just want you to try talking to Day. One conversation on the company’s dime. A 100% discount!"

I smiled hesitantly. "Well, that does sound kinda tempting."

Before making my final decision, I turned slightly because from where I stood, I could still see the smoking section. But Day wasn’t there anymore; he’d probably gone back inside.

So it was all on me. I eyed Nolan again. Was I doing myself more harm by agreeing to this? Ironically, though, his delusional pitch—"I have great intuition"—stirred something in me and helped me push through my fear.

It might be nice to try not giving up for a change.

"Okay, one conversation," I whispered, barely audible.

Nolan’s face lit up, and the little red-haired omega beamed too.

"Is it about the surrogacy guy?"

"Yes, it’s about him," Nolan replied. "I have a strong feeling that something may come out of this."

"That would be wonderful if he found somebody. Poor guy."

I furrowed my brows but didn’t respond as we began walking back toward the hall. Nolan led his True Mate by the hand, while I trailed behind, feeling like a fifth wheel. Waves of bitterness surged through me, but oddly… so did waves of fragile hope.

We entered the hall and quickly made our way to the aisle where Day was sitting.

This time, he wasn’t smoking; evidently, he’d had his fill outside. He sat with his legs crossed, leaning his head against the headrest and staring at the ceiling. He looked pensive, his brows furrowed.

The moment he saw me again, he grimaced, just as unpleasantly. Nothing had changed. I was still persona non grata. Or more precisely, beta non grata.

But this time, Nolan said, "Please wait here for a moment; I’ll have a quick word with Day."

Having no other choice, I was left alone with his omega, who looked at me attentively, even offering a small, reassuring smile. He smelled like a mated omega, his scent matching Nolan's.

"What’s it like, having your True Mate?" I murmured, just to fill the silence.

"Amazing. There’s nothing better!"

"People say being with your True Mate is overwhelming. Like merging into one person, lives becoming inseparable."

"Maybe that kind of closeness scares some people, but not me. I’ve always wanted this—an intense, tight bond. And now I have it—only recently—but it already feels like I’m walking on air! Storm is so wonderful and so good to me. I’m his whole world!"

I didn’t respond because… what could I say? Curse ugly, since it was exactly what I dreamt of, craved to have?

Why would I pour my bitterness onto this little guy? With his birthmark, he probably hadn’t had it easy either. His happiness didn’t take away from mine.

"I'm Jan, by the way."

"Damien."

We exchanged handshakes. The omega tilted his head, watching me closely.

"Do you want it too? To find your perfect mate?"

I shrugged. "I kinda gave up on finding anyone, for that matter. A fated mate sounds like nothing but a fairytale to me."

He wrinkled his small freckled nose. "I had the same pessimistic attitude just one week ago. I didn’t believe anyone would want me. But the miracle happened!"

"Congratulations. I’m just a bit skeptical about it. The chances are so low."

The omega glanced toward the booth. "I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Storm recognized True Mate couples in the past. He has this special ability… he sees glowing colors around people. If they’re the same and very vibrant, it can be IT!"

I stared at him with a neutral-polite expression, schooling my face to hide my disbelief.

Damien lowered his voice. "I called Storm on my way here. He was very upset. He told me he just saw a bright golden halo around two people. But one of them ran away. Could this be about you?"

I felt silly. "Well… I did run away. That’s correct. But I saw no glow."

Damien grinned. "Storm said you two look like two halves of the same soul—split, torn, and hurt, but craving to be whole again."

Something constricted in my throat, and I quickly averted my eyes, fighting against treacherous emotions.

"That… would be beautiful, but I’m a realist. Those things belong in romance books."

The redhead pouted. "I guess we’ll see about it, won’t we?"

I carefully nodded. "Yes, time will tell."

It’s not that I completely disregarded his strange words. I made an effort to listen with an open mind, trying to fight off my relentless pessimism.

Maybe allowing more hope into my life meant being proactive—like talking to Day despite his seemingly obvious rejection. Could this be the first step in the right direction?

People had their reasons for behaving in certain ways. While I wanted life to be simple, it… simply was wishful thinking. So, for a change, I could start by trying one more time.

Nolan and Day were talking. Day’s body language showed resistance at first, but then he suddenly shrugged, clearly giving in. The case guardian nodded at me.

Slowly, with some hesitation, I grasped the handle, opened the door to the glass booth, and stepped inside, breaking through my fear.

"Good luck!" the redheaded omega whispered behind me.

The inside smelled of cigarettes, but that was no surprise. Nolan unfolded two small stools from under Day’s seat and placed them next to me.

We both sat down. It felt strange to suddenly find myself in such close proximity to Day, and my heart was galloping. I was pretty sure they could both hear it just as clearly as I could hear theirs—Storm’s was calm and steady, while Day’s was also quite elevated.

My gaze shifted across Day’s face. It was narrow, with a small jaw, high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and tightly clenched lips. His nose was thin, and he wore small wire-frame glasses that looked old and slightly crooked. His brown hair was tied in a tight bun at the nape of his neck.

The one thing that really stood out about his face was his eyes—large and the color of dark, stormy clouds, a mix of gray, steel, and pigeon hues. They were framed by long, thick eyelashes—definitely the kind of eyes that drew attention. If it weren’t for those ugly glasses, he would’ve looked much more attractive. Unfortunately, the effect was further ruined by his unhealthy complexion—a typical smoker’s pallor, grayish-yellow and sickly. In addition, he had dark circles under his eyes.

I couldn’t say he looked particularly favorable. Most alphas would probably dismiss him right away. But the thought that he too had been dismissed—written off—somehow riveted me. I don’t know why. Maybe because we were both… leftovers?

At 5’9", he was tall for an omega, which wasn’t ideal for my situation. But he was also very skinny, which gave him a fragile, willowy look—like a gust of wind could knock him over.

My gaze lingered on his delicate, long neck, though his glands were hidden beneath his turtleneck. His shoulders were narrow, his hands small and bony. I found myself staring at those hands for a moment, feeling oddly tempted to reach out and take one into mine and… what? Hold it? Ridiculous.

His whole body seemed frail, but at the same time, there was something svelte and sublime about him. And it strangely… excited me? He was like a flower tossed by stormy winds. I had the distinct feeling that what Storm Nolan had told me was true. I could sense it—Day’s pain just lurking under the surface.

And then this happened.

When I blinked, I suddenly saw a bizarre flash of the two of us—me hugging him, shielding him from the merciless wind, my lips brushing against his pale cheek… moving over his cold skin, caressing it with gentle kisses.

What? I blinked again, shooing the vision away.

Crazy. Really, I’d lost it.

"Day, this is Mr. Jan Wilson," Nolan introduced me.

Day didn’t respond, nor did he shake my hand. He just stared at my face, his expression hostile and bitter.

Interestingly enough, it didn’t bother me anymore. It was like I saw him as two overlapping images. Every time I blinked, I’d see him standing in the wind—dark strands of hair swirling around his face, stormy clouds gathering behind him, his eyes locked on mine, almost pleading, calling me… Unbelievable.

"Mr. Wilson would like to have a brief chat with you."

It was amusing how Nolan struggled to initiate our conversation. And I guess he picked me to start it, because suddenly, he turned toward me and said, "You’ve read some information about Day on the board, but Day knows nothing about you. Maybe you could tell him a few words about yourself? Your age, profession, education?"

Well, we could start with that. I sighed quietly.

"I’m twenty-six years old. I graduated with a degree in agriculture. I live about an hour and a half outside the city, and I run my own fruit tree nursery. I sell seedlings locally and online. I also have a range of shrubs—raspberries, currants, blueberries, gooseberries, and other garden plants. You could call me a kind of farmer, I guess—only I sell plants, not harvests."

As I said it, I realized I probably should’ve started with something else. The usual ritual.

Day would want to know why I wasn’t so tall, even though I was an alpha.

My typical explanation was about to start: justifying my existence.