Quotes On Breakfast

Ella is her name. She's just an ordinary girl. Oh, wait, is she really as ordinary as we presumed about her? Allora, you can't guess it right. For she herself didn't know about her true identity. Living in a ramshackle hut with an old man with whom she had no blood relation. There's nothing extraordinary about her lifestyle or even her. She wakes up, prepares breakfast for both of them, and then the old man leaves of food hunting. They're living an extremely poor life which is a common status in her surroundings. And one day she had a mysterious dream, the one she had never thought of. Not even in her dreams! Her 18th birthday was coming right after two days and she's having his dream as a present. Well, a present worth it all. Forest, wolves, handcuffed maiden, and the demand. A two-word demand, asking for the keys. What keys those strange, voiced creatures were asking for? Whose keys? She didn't know but soon she will know.

"I, Zade Matthews, Alpha of the High-claw pack, reject you, Sierra Whitmore, to be my mate and Luna to my pack. You are to work here and obey every command and to accept my rejection" Nobody wants to hear the word rejection. Especially when you're not even strong enough to handle the aftermath of it. At 18, I had just got my wolf, Mina. I was not supposed to mate with an Alpha. I'm an Omega living an Omega life. But the moon-goddess had other ideas, and I was mated to the cruellest of Alphas there is. I'm what they would call a slave to the pack. In other words. I was dispensable if they didn't want or need me. So, when I was invited for breakfast with the Alpha, my mate, I should have taken that as my first red flag. I have never eaten with them. Even when my parents were alive. 6 Years later, just after my 24th birthday, the mate-less Gala was just around the corner once again, and I was tired. Emotionally and physically tired. I had nothing to live for. I had nothing to hope for. Every Omega knows they don't get a second chance at love and every omega had to accept that. That was simply our fate. So, being assigned to accommodate Alpha Nikolai's room was not one of my top things to enjoy, but here I was. Five minutes was all I wanted to have to myself when cleaning the room on the very top floor for the Alpha of all Alphas, so I stopped and sat down to rest my aching body. And cried. Only...the scent of all scents hits me. His scent. Alpha Nikolai Anderson. He doesn't know me, but he chooses to love me. He chooses me.

In the third year the law firm was established, Claire Stone joined the firm as an assistant. From then on, my boyfriend started buying breakfast for her. My childhood friend also drove her to and from work. As for me, I became the wicked woman who bullied the newbie. The repeated disappointments made me decide to expel them from my life. So I agreed to a marriage contract with someone else, and while my boyfriend and childhood friend mocked me, I left the firm we had formed together. Later, they learned that they had been showering all their love and attention on a spy sent by a rival law firm. When they regretted their actions and asked me to go back to them, my husband sent them an invitation to our wedding.

"Good morning, Greg. What would you like for breakfast?" "What? Did you just call me Greg? Are we mates? What gives you the right to call me that? Just because you're my wife? Listen, don't you ever call me Greg." "But... we're... married..." "So what? I only married you because of my grandmother. And let's face it, we're not on the same level, whether it's age, class, or status. You're just an eighteen-year-old country girl." "I'm 26, and you're only 18. An eight-year age gap isn't a joke. Just because we're married doesn't mean you can call me by my name. Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?" "How should I address you then?" "Just call me sir. I don't ever want to hear 'Greg' from your mouth again," I said sternly "The Billionaire's Country Girl Bride" is an engaging novel about the marriage between Greg, a rich businessman, and Sophie, a young country girl. Greg insists on being called "sir" by Sophie due to their age gap, and sets strict rules that keep them apart. As Greg brings other women home and ignores Sophie's feelings, she finds support in her university roommate, Diana. The story follows Sophie's journey as she learns to stand up for herself and find her own strength. With Diana's help, Sophie discovers the power of love and resilience.

On the one thousand and ninety-fourth day of being Mrs. Harris, I asked James Harris for a divorce. His face showed a hint of confusion, but it quickly shifted to his usual, composed expression. "As you wish," he said, his tone as flat as if we were discussing whether to replace the milk on the breakfast table. He did not even bother to ask why. On the one thousand and ninety-fifth day, I gently saw him and the children off, acting as if nothing had happened, and then completely left the Harris family behind.

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.