How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 74: Break Me Instead...

JASMINE’S POV

"Are you hurt?" Aiden asked, dropping to the edge of the broken pool deck.

His eyes locked on mine, wild and glassy, scanning me like he was trying to memorise every inch, to search for bruises, blood, and even breath. Like I was seconds from slipping through his fingers.

"Do I look hurt?" I snapped, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. My tone came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take it back.

"You could have been—"

"Well, I wasn’t."

Silence.

Except for Sophia.

She raised both hands like she was surrendering to the situation. "Okay, cool. I’m gonna leave before this turns into something I’m emotionally unequipped to witness."

She didn’t even walk. She just backed away slowly like a cartoon character fading into a hedge. And then she was gone.

I gripped the pool edge and pulled myself halfway out, water still streaming off me in streams. My dress was soaked, dragging behind me, clinging to my skin. I looked down to see Aiden hadn’t moved. His hands were still braced on the stone, his breathing shallow and uneven.

He was waiting for something.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

And that was it. That single word cracked something in me wide open.

"I needed to break something," I said.

My voice didn’t shake, didn’t waver, but it wasn’t steady, either. "Everything in this house is perfect, and clean, and silent, and controlled. You are controlled. And I’m not. Not anymore."

Silence fell again.

Even Lyra, ever ready with her smart comments, stayed quiet.

Aiden looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly. And then, he moved.

He dropped.

One knee hit the shattered tile.

Then the other.

He didn’t care about the water soaking into his pants. Didn’t care about the glass glinting around him. He just knelt there like nothing else in the world mattered except this moment... except me.

"Then next time..." he said, his voice low, cracking just once, "when you feel like breaking something, break me instead."

I stared at him.

This wasn’t a man grovelling. He wasn’t trying to manipulate me or even apologise. This was surrender.

"Don’t say that," I whispered.

"I mean it," he said. "You needed to release something. You needed pain to land somewhere. Let it be me. I can take it."

"I don’t want to break you, Aiden."

"Then don’t break alone."

I blinked. The water in my lashes blurred my vision for a second, but I didn’t look away.

"You’re not invincible," I said. "You keep trying to be."

"I know," he admitted.

"And you think if you hold everything in, everything together, it’ll just... hold."

"I thought it would protect you."

"I don’t want protection," I said. "I want the truth."

"I’m trying," he said, breathing out slowly. "I am. The curse... it’s not simple. It’s not just about me. It’s blood. History. Burden. And shame. It’s not my favourite topic to talk about."

"I can handle shame," I replied. "What I can’t handle is being lied to."

He nodded slowly, like it physically hurt him to do so.

"I’ll tell you everything," he said. "Even if it destroys the last piece of the image you have of me."

I looked down at him, still on his knees, soaked and vulnerable.

"I already told you," I whispered, "I’ve seen the worst of you. And I’m still here."

His eyes fluttered shut for a second. When he opened them again, there was something raw there. Something honest.

And I realised, maybe for the first time, that this wasn’t just hard for me.

It was killing him too.

"Let’s get you warmed up," Aiden said gently.

I hardly had a moment to react before he reached down to help me. He wrapped his arms under my knees and shoulders, effortlessly lifting me out of the water as if I were weightless.

"Wait... Aiden, put me down!"

"Stop flailing or you’re going to knock us both back in," he muttered with a tight jaw.

"Lyra," I hissed in my head, "say something. Help me!"

"Oh, I’m helping," she said, entirely too smug. "By enjoying this. His arms. That heat. That grip. Carry on, Alpha."

My cheeks flushed hotter than the bath I hadn’t taken yet. I kept squirming, but not seriously; mostly just from embarrassment.

And maybe, if I was being honest, because part of me didn’t hate how it felt to be held like that.

He carried me across the patio, through the shattered doorway, and up the stairs like I hadn’t just driven a car into his pool. As if he hadn’t just knelt in front of me and said the exact words I didn’t know I needed to hear.

Once inside my room, he set me down gently on the floor outside the bathroom and immediately draped a thick blanket over my shoulders. The heat of it hit me like a wall.

"Wait here," he said. "Don’t argue."

I blinked at him, too stunned to form a sentence.

He slipped into the bathroom, and a few seconds later, I heard the soft whoosh of the space heater powering on, followed by the sound of running water.

When he returned, he knelt again and brushed a wet strand of hair behind my ear. "Go warm up. I’ll bring you coffee."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," he murmured. "Just... don’t lock me out after."

I didn’t respond.

He stood, heading for the door, and just before stepping out, he paused in the doorway. "By the way," he said over his shoulder, "you were wrong earlier."

I looked up. "About what?"

"You’re not broken. You’re just loud about your healing."

Then he left.

—

I sat there for a minute, wrapped in the blanket and processing everything.

"He’s good," Lyra murmured.

"I know."

"Like, dangerous-level good. You almost cried."

I rolled my eyes and stood, letting the blanket slide off my shoulders. Cold air hit my skin, and for the first time, I realised I was shaking. I hadn’t noticed it in the garage. Or the water. Or the hallway. But now?

Now that I was safe, warm, and alone...

My body remembered.

I peeled off the wet dress and undergarments, tossing them in a soggy heap beside the hamper. Then I stepped into the bathroom.

The air was warm already. The steam from the tub had begun to rise, fogging the mirror slightly. I climbed in slowly, the hot water hugging every inch of my skin like an apology.

The first five seconds stung.

The next five unravelled me.

I sank into the heat, my arms wrapped around my knees, my head resting back. The silence wasn’t empty this time. It was soothing.

"You okay?" Lyra asked.

"Yeah," I whispered. "I think I am."

She didn’t say anything more; she just stayed there. Quiet. Together with me. It felt like a steady warmth in my thoughts.

After what felt like an hour—but was probably ten minutes—I finally got out. I dried off, twisted my hair up, and wrapped myself in a thick towel. My skin was flushed and warm now, no more tremors, no more cold in my bones.

When I stepped into the bedroom again, I stopped.

There, on the bed, folded neatly, was a pair of soft grey sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt... mine, but rarely worn. And next to them, on the bedside table, was a cup of coffee. Steam still curled from the top.

Beside it, a note. Handwritten.

I picked it up.

"I’ll replace the car. I’ll fix the patio.

Just don’t make me replace you.

– A"

My chest ached.

"Oh, damn," Lyra breathed. "Okay. That man is a problem."

I stared at the note, unsure of what I was supposed to feel.

Touched? Guilty? Angry?

The words were simple. Too simple for how complicated everything between us had become. And yet, the ache in my chest said they hit somewhere deep.

I turned away, dragging in a breath as I picked up the clothes he left me.

I slipped on my panties and a bralette first, the soft cotton grounding me. Then the shirt. Then the sweatpants. They smelled faintly of cedar and something warm I didn’t want to name.

Coffee in hand, I curled my fingers around the warmth and sat on the edge of the bed, sipping slowly. My eyes kept drifting toward the note like it had more to say if I stared long enough.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

Before I could answer, the door creaked open and Sophia slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her. I had almost forgotten she was even around.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with that "best friend judgment" face I knew too well.

"I know you have something to say, Soph," I whispered, breaking the silence.

She raised a brow. "I’m wondering how sane you are. And if maybe you need some kind of mental realignment."

I shook my head, trying not to smile. It wasn’t funny. But somehow, the way she said it almost made it okay.

Sophia pushed off the wall and walked over slowly. "No, seriously. Jas. Tell me, why on earth did you drive your husband’s car... into his pool?"