Page 8 of Unbreak Me

As we drove, for the first part of the way, I dwelled on my depressing past, remembering all those times I had been disappointed. Recalling those moments when I approached an omega, and he looked away—it simply hurt. After a while, I stopped approaching anyone at all and just stayed alone, filled with anger and regret over how my life had turned out. Quite pathetic, isn't it?

Yes, there were still people around who wanted a quick fuck with me—some of my beta friends or even alphas—but the problem was, I wasn’t into them, and I wasn’t into hookups in general.

So, I focused on working and developing my business, finding joy in doing so, but there were days when I wondered… why even try? To return to these empty walls with no one waiting for me? No children's voices? I wasn’t built to be a loner—I craved human connection, but not just with anyone. A bunch of single friends around wouldn’t do it for me. I desired a romantic bond; to love and be loved—deeply, intimately, passionately! I longed for someone who would be the center of my universe, and for whom I would be the center of his. Silly?

For the other half of the trip, I had to listen to Frank's monologue about my two brothers who were in relationships and how they never gave up in pursuing their partners. I wasthe only one left under his ‘care’, as he saw it—an obligation to his late brother. His mission was to help us find mates and start families. Sure, I secretly wanted that too. But I was a realist.

Soon, we pulled into the overcrowded parking lot, where a giant banner proclaimed:

"You can find the Fate’s Choice for you here! Marital contract fair-and-auction! 14-15th September."

Looking around, I cursed under my breath, seeing the flashing neon lights, huge ads showing happy couples, leaflets, and torn tickets scattered on the ground.

The fair drew enormous crowds, and I hated it. So many people to stare! With furrowed eyebrows, I crawled out of the car, glaring at Frank—the reason I found myself in such a nerve-wracking place.

Two long lines led to the hall. One was for people who already had tickets purchased online, and the other for people from the street who simply hoped to get in if there were any spots available. Such events had always been popular, although a large group of people just came as onlookers. They were willing to pay even a high price to see others buying marital contracts and to check out the contractees. A strange and unhealthy curiosity.

Part of such a fair often included an auction option—if several people were interested in the same omega. It usually happened with the youngest omegas, those who hadn't had any contracts before.

Typically, many people signed up for such an auction, but the omega only selected those he favored and allowed them to participate. Once that was settled, a real auction took place, which attracted many spectators, especially if the omega was exceptionally beautiful—such an event could garner a lot of interest and gather many visitors, cheering and evenoccasionally placing bets. The auctions with the highest bids could even make it into the press and become a media sensation.

Obviously, I wasn't interested in auctions because I couldn't afford a multimillion-dollar contract with a young, stunning omega anyway. There, the amounts reached up to 30 million dollars.

So, of course, I headed to the section for omegas over 35 years old, where contracts usually started at around half a million dollars—and the truth was that I didn't even have that full amount. I had about 400,000 dollars inherited from my parents and my other uncle, who died a few months back. But I could maybe hope (let’s call it hope for Frank’s sake…) to find someone who would set the price for their contract accordingly, since I'd heard that some specific types of agreements might be a little cheaper.

Contract prices were quite interesting in general. While yearly or two-year options could still be relatively cheap (if one million dollars, for example, could even be considered cheap!), ten-year or twenty-year contracts were much more expensive, reaching several million. Interestingly, so-called ‘Eternal’ deals were considered the cheapest, but they meant signing a contract binding the parties for life, with practically no possibility of terminating the deal except in drastic rule-breaking situations. Even then, the buyer was obliged to pay a pension for the rest of the contractee's life. These agreements were not very popular because they were a real "all-in" agreement—very risky.

My uncle surprised me when we stood in line. He showed me a ticket he’d bought for me online, so we didn't have to stand in that second, longer line. We got inside the hall fairly quickly, or rather… I got inside because my uncle said goodbye to me right before the entrance!

With a big grin, Frank grabbed my hand and shook it, then wished me luck and of course repeated several times that I shouldn't give up and stay optimistic.

I bulged my eyes, seeing how quickly he retreated, leaving me standing almost in the middle of the entrance, with my mouth hanging open.

Frank turned around only once and waved at me, smirking mischievously. I could read his lips; he was saying: "More optimism!"

What the heck? I was so sick of this word—I’d heard it all my life. The annoying ‘stay positive’ phrase played like a loony tune: ‘keep hope alive’, ‘keep an open mind’, ‘don't give up’. Dammit, I was so tired of it!

Feeling my hands sweating from nerves, I stepped into the hall. But damn, there were so many people! The guards were letting them in one by one—the moment somebody left, they let one person in to maintain a safe number of people inside. The instant I was finally in the hall, the crowd swarmed, pushed, and circled around me.

What a crazy, overwhelming experience!

Some areas near glass booths were so crowded that I couldn't even see the omegas sitting in them. I imagined how they must have felt: a thousand people judging them, staring, whispering… I heard the auctioneer's voice from afar, followed by cheers and applause when someone won a contract. The auctions took place in an annex, but I didn't head in that direction. The fair part was overstimulating enough.

Disoriented and out of my element, I roamed the aisles aimlessly, lacking any commitment or specific plan. Yeah, I guess I waswaiting it out, or rather walking it out. It felt like a nightmare—desperately trying to reach a destination but failing, no matter how hard I tried.

Finally, I drifted toward sections D and E, where omegas aged 35 to 50 were seated. These were usually people after one or more marital contracts, most of them with children, some almost grown-up. Their expressions were bored, some blatantly staring at their phone screens. Some booths were empty, their previous occupants having secured contracts.

As expected, none of the omegas sitting in the glass booths even gave me a second glance; they likely thought some lost beta had wandered into their aisle by chance.

There weren't many betas here; they probably realized they would have to compete with alphas for omegas, and it was always a losing battle. Even though I had broad shoulders typical for alphas and solid muscles, everyone just assumed I was a beta who got seriously jacked.

Yes, I wasn't on pheromone suppressants, and when someone got closer, he could smell me and recognize me as an alpha, but from a distance, it didn’t matter. And the omegas sat in those tightly closed glass booths. No chance for me.

So I walked slowly, watching the interactions of visitors with the omegas in their glass cubes. It was kind of cringy for me.

Most omegas had their pheromone-infused cards displayed on small shelves. The cost of buying such a card was $50, so not everyone was tempted. Some older omegas had blue LEDs lit up, signaling that they were on suppressants and intended to remain so for the entire marriage contract.

Next to each glass booth was an electronic board displaying basic data about the contractees and the pricing of their contracts.

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