Joking Quotes

Every bonding anniversary, Shawn would bring home a new human girl from the outside—always under the lovely pretense of letting me mentor her on how to serve an Alpha. On our seventh anniversary, he brought back a nightclub girl dressed in a Princess Snow White outfit—cheap satin trembling under the chandelier's light. “She doesn’t have anything appropriate for an occasion like this,” he said casually. “Let her borrow your bonding dress. And the jewelry I gave you last time. As for shoes—what you're wearing now will do.” Then he added, with a trace of irony, “She’s just a young human girl, clueless. Teach her a few things about our world, will you? Especially the part about the bed.” Everyone was waiting for the spectacle—for me to break again, as I always had. And I didn’t disappoint them. I looked at Shawn, my voice steady, and said I wanted a bond-severance. He laughed—short and sharp—and leaned back like he was watching a comedy. “Clara, when are you going to stop with this bond-severance nonsense? I’ve heard it so many times. They’re just human girls, while you are my Luna. How could they ever compare to you?” Then, grinning as if doing me a favor, he added, “Fine. If you really want a bond-severance, I’ll gift you a territory in the south. Consider it a reward for doing your job as my Luna.” The room erupted in laughter. To them, I was ridiculous—greedy, jealous, hysterical. But what they didn’t know was that this was the 365th time I’d asked for a bond-severance. And the first time, I truly meant it. When he found out I wasn’t joking this time, he lost his composure. He searched for me across the world—only after he realized I was no longer where he thought I’d always be.

In the eighth year of helping Keith Hunter pay off his debts, I was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I tested the waters and asked him, half joking, "If I got cancer, would you save me?" He laughed, saying I was overthinking it. Then he added firmly, "If it ever came to that, I would sell my blood to pay for your treatment." I lay awake all night, tossing and turning, still feeling like I couldn't drag him down with me. Before taking a sleeping pill, a notification popped up on my phone about a social media post. [How do I dump an older woman who paid off my debts for eight years without too much drama?] The profile picture looked eerily like Keith's silhouette from behind. He wrote, [Eight years ago, my family went bankrupt. She stuck with me, living off dry toast and squeezing into a rented apartment. She helped me pay back over 600 thousand dollars in debt. [Back then, I thought she was innocent and cute. Now, I feel like she's just a materialistic woman putting on an act. [Last month, she even asked whether I would save her if she got cancer. How does someone even ask that? [Obviously, she was trying to get money out of me. Good thing I didn't tell her that my family recovered three years ago. [Now, my family has arranged a fiancée for me. She's the daughter of a publicly listed company. [I want to cut things off with my girlfriend, but I'm afraid she'll cling to me. After all, she wasted a lot of her youth on me.] By the time I finished reading, I had crushed the stomach cancer diagnosis in my hand into a wrinkled mess.

On the day of my bonding ceremony with Vincent Sawyer, the future Alpha, the moonstone ring meant for me, the future Luna, has mysteriously disappeared from the ringbox. In its place sits a can tab that has already gone black from oxidation. The guests' cheers die down immediately. They all turn to look at me after that. Amid the silence, Vincent's childhood sweetheart, Sharon Anderson, walks out from the crowd. She raises her left hand and waves, the moonstone ring perched on her ring finger. Then, she pulls out a matching ring before sliding it onto Vincent's finger. "You must be scared out of your wits, huh, Angelica? I'm actually wearing the ring right now. This can tab is no ordinary item, you know. Vincent had given it to me when we were still pups. It resembles everlasting love that will never fade away. Now, I'm giving it to you." Sharon's words strike me right in my heart. I tremble violently, feeling as if my heart is being cut into a million pieces. However, Vincent just chuckles. "Sharon always comes up with silly ideas. She's just joking around, Angelica. Don't take her actions to heart." "Oh, I won't." I toss the can tab into the bonfire, a dry chuckle escaping from my lips. "This bonding ceremony is canceled." Vincent grabs my hand before pulling me into his arms. "Stop messing around, Angelica! We found the ring, didn't we? This bonding alliance will affect the future of our packs! You're not the one calling the shots here!" I squirm out of Vincent's grasp, catching a trace of sickly sweet scent lingering around him—one that isn’t mine at all. "While it's true that the Moonlake pack is going to form a bonding alliance with the Brownstone pack, my future mate isn't necessarily you."

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.

In my second year running the company, my high school class monitor suddenly started tagging me nonstop in the group chat. [Alice, Vivian was only joking with you back then. Why won't you come to her party? Are you trying to make her feel guilty?] I didn't understand what was going on. Only after reading the messages did I realize that our class beauty, Vivian Spencer, had recently found her biological parents—and today, she had thrown a party to announce it to the world. Me: [I'm busy.] I had no intention of attending a party hosted by someone who used to bully me. But my answer didn't shut them up. Instead, it stirred up even more absurd speculation. [Don't tell me you're doing some kind of labor job and can't take leave?] [We're all former classmates. If you show up, I'll give you sixty dollars. That should cover two days of your salary.] Vivian chimed in as well. [Alice, it was just a joke back then. And I'd already dropped out by then. Why can't you let it go?] I stared at her message for a long moment before typing: [Only trash would call bullying a joke.] The group exploded instantly. [Vivian's no trash! She's a wealthy heiress. She's not even in the same league as you. Poor people really love to nitpick.] Vivian, ever the hypocrite, tried to smooth things over. [No matter what, today marks a new beginning for me. I hope you'll come to witness it. [We're classmates, after all. I don't hold it against you for forcing me to drop out. If you're short on money, I can even ask my dad to arrange a job for you.] Then she sent a screenshot of her chat with her father. When I saw her father's profile picture, I froze. Wasn't that the same profile picture as my freeloading dad? But I look seventy percent like my mom—it's impossible for me to be a fake daughter. And Vivian was two months younger than me. I let out a laugh. "Alright, I'll definitely attend your recognition party."