{"id":5615,"date":"2026-02-17T06:13:54","date_gmt":"2026-02-17T06:13:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/?p=5615"},"modified":"2026-02-17T06:13:56","modified_gmt":"2026-02-17T06:13:56","slug":"after-i-was-stood-up-for-the-third-time-the-clerk-said-that-handsome-guy-over-there-has-been-waiting-all-day-too-you-two-should-just-get-married-we-looked-at-each-other-and-said","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/?p=5615","title":{"rendered":"After I was stood up for the third time, the clerk said, \u201cThat handsome guy over there has been waiting all day too. You two should just get married.\u201d We looked at each other and said, \u201cOkay.\u201d Ten minutes later, I had a husband."},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The third time was not a charm; it was a massacre of my dignity. Standing in the hollow, marble-clad echo chamber of Denver City Hall<\/strong>, I realized that my life had become a punchline. My fianc\u00e9, Alex Vance<\/strong>, had stood me up again. Not at a romantic chapel with stained glass and pews, but here, in the sterile silence of the county clerk\u2019s office, under the flickering fluorescent lights that made everyone look ashen and defeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis is the third time, Alex. Are you genuinely trying to make me look like a complete fool?\u201d I hissed into my phone, my voice bouncing off the high ceilings. A few other couples, huddled together in nervous anticipation, glanced over with pitying eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other end, Alex\u2019s voice was a practiced symphony of dismissive charm. \u201cBabe, a major client just flew in. You know how it is. You\u2019re the most understanding woman I know. I promise, next time for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The line went dead. I stared at the \u201cWork emergency. Love you\u201d text sent four hours ago. I looked down at my tote bag. Inside was our paperwork, a small box of gourmet chocolates for the clerks, and tucked deep in my purse, a positive pregnancy test. It was supposed to be a surprise. Now, it felt like a cooling iron against my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Brenda<\/strong>, a clerk with eyes that had seen every tragedy the legal system could offer, leaned over her window. \u201cMa\u2019am, we close in fifteen minutes.\u201d She pointed a pen toward a man in a crisp black shirt sitting a few seats away. He had just hung up his own phone, pinching the bridge of his nose with a fury so palpable I could smell the ozone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat a coincidence,\u201d Brenda<\/strong> remarked with a wry, jagged smile. \u201cThat\u2019s the third time for him, too. You both wasted your day. Why don\u2019t you two just get hitched?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The air froze. For ten seconds, the world stopped spinning. The man turned his head. His eyes held the same humiliation as mine, the same scorched-earth rage, and the same self-destructive recklessness of a person who has nothing left to lose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d we said in unison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The word was a grenade. Brenda<\/strong> froze, her keys clattering to the floor. \u201cI was just kidding,\u201d she stammered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m not,\u201d the man said, standing up. He was a head taller than me, smelling of cedar and tobacco. \u201cLeo Sterling<\/strong>, 29. I run a software company. No DUIs, no felonies. One sister in college. If you\u2019re serious, we do this right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChloe Miller<\/strong>, 29,\u201d I replied, my legs stiff as I rose to meet him. \u201cCreative Director. I have a mortgage, a cat, and a desperate need to never see Alex Vance\u2019s face again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten minutes later, I had a husband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In our marriage license photo, a fist\u2019s width of space separated our shoulders. Our expressions were masks of defiance. As the embossed seal pressed down on the certificate, my hand trembled. No regrets, I told myself. Some pain can only be eclipsed by a greater, more desperate act.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My phone buzzed. It was Alex. \u201cHey babe, just wrapped up. I\u2019ll pick you up for dinner. My treat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I answered, my voice unnervingly calm. \u201cI\u2019m still at city hall, Alex. But the doors are locked. I got married. And I was going to tell you I\u2019m six weeks pregnant, but that isn\u2019t your concern anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The silence on the other end was absolute, followed by a frantic, panicked scream as I clicked the phone off and turned it into a lifeless brick of glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Leo Sterling<\/strong> did not offer me a honeymoon; he offered me a shield. As we walked out of the building into the bruised purple of the Denver twilight, the weight of what I had done began to sink in. I was married to a man I had known for exactly twenty minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have a condo near my office,\u201d Leo said, his jaw tight as he led me to a black SUV. \u201cYou can stay in the spare room. You need to clear your head, and I need a wife to show my mother. She has late-stage lung cancer. Her last wish is to see me settled.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at him, realizing we were both using each other as lifeboats. \u201cDeal,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His apartment was a sterile, one-bedroom suite on the 12th floor, devoid of personality. I sat on the unfamiliar bed and finally let the tears break through. My best friend, Maya<\/strong>, called me, her voice frantic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChloe, Alex is losing his mind! He\u2019s calling everyone saying you\u2019re pregnant and married a stranger. What have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI chose myself, Maya<\/strong>,\u201d I sobbed into the phone. \u201cAlex stood me up three times. I moved to Denver for him. I gave him my savings for his business. And he repaid me with plastic chairs and \u2018work emergencies.\u2019 I\u2019m done.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning, the reality of my choice was stripes of sunlight through the blinds and the smell of fresh coffee. Leo was in the kitchen, dressed for work, looking like a stranger from a dream. We shared a silent breakfast of toasted sandwiches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll give you a ride to your office,\u201d he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. \u201cSafety first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The atmosphere at my ad agency was a minefield of whispers. The news had traveled like a wildfire. Rick Donovan<\/strong>, a predatory project manager who had always eyed my position, sauntered over to my cubicle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHeard you tied the knot, Chloe. Congrats. Who\u2019s the lucky guy? Or did you just grab a drifter to save face?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a CEO, Rick,\u201d I said, staring at my screen. \u201cAnd he\u2019s twice the man you\u2019ll ever be.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the venom was just beginning. My mother called, shrieking about \u201cbums off the street\u201d and \u201ccon artists.\u201d I had to put Leo on the phone. With a chillingly calm, practiced ease, he lied to her. He told her we were set up by a friend, that he had chased me for ages, and that he intended to take care of me. By the time he hung up, my mother was practically picking out china patterns.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a good actor,\u201d I told him as we sat in his car later that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn business, you have to be good at everything,\u201d he replied. \u201cBut the hospital called. My mother wants to meet you. Today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

The scent of antiseptic and fading hope filled Martha Sterling\u2019s<\/strong> hospital room. She was a frail, elegant woman who clutched my hand with surprising strength.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLeo showed me your picture ages ago,\u201d she chirped, her eyes misty. \u201cHe said he was going to marry you no matter what. Now I can rest easy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at Leo, confused. What picture? He cleared his throat and looked away. It was a lie he\u2019d fed her to make our \u201cwhirlwind romance\u201d plausible. But as I saw the peace in her eyes, I couldn\u2019t bring myself to break the illusion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, the peace was short-lived. Returning to work on Wednesday, I walked into a slaughterhouse. Mr. Henderson<\/strong>, my boss, called me into a grim meeting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChloe, our pitch for the Blue Sky Group<\/strong>\u2014the core creative\u2014has been leaked to our competitor, Starbrite Solutions<\/strong>. Their campaign is a carbon copy of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My blood ran cold. \u201cThat\u2019s impossible. That project was on a secure server.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou were the lead,\u201d Rick Donovan<\/strong> chimed in, his smile slick with malice. \u201cAnd with a shotgun wedding to a stranger, one has to wonder if you were looking for a quick payout.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was suspended on the spot. Packaged into a box. Escorted out like a criminal. Leo was waiting at the curb, sensing my distress before I even spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been framed,\u201d I told him, my hands shaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he said, starting the car. \u201cI had a friend do some digging. Rick Donovan<\/strong>\u2019s old college roommate is the lead at Starbrite. They\u2019re in bed together. But why frame you now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause Henderson<\/strong> is looking to promote a new VP,\u201d I reasoned, \u201cand I was the only one in Rick\u2019s way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, the stress finally claimed its toll. A searing, visceral pain ripped through my abdomen. I collapsed on the floor, clutching my stomach. Leo\u2019s face went ashen as he scooped me up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMiscarriage,\u201d the doctor at the ER said hours later. \u201cA threatened miscarriage. You need absolute bed rest, Chloe. Your emotional state is volatile. You are losing this child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I lay in the hospital bed, watching the bleak gray sky of Denver. My job was gone. My child was at risk. My marriage was a farce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then, the monster appeared. Alex Vance walked into my room, looking haggard and unshaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet rid of it,\u201d he blurted out. \u201cOr have it and give it to me. I won\u2019t let my son be raised by a mother who marries a stranger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet out,\u201d a voice boomed from the doorway. Leo stood there, his presence a thundercloud. He didn\u2019t just walk in; he invaded the space. \u201cIf you touch my wife again, Alex, I will destroy your company before the sun sets. I know about your uncle, Daniel Vance<\/strong>, and the predatory loans he\u2019s been giving out. Don\u2019t test me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

For three days, Leo lived in the hospital chair. He handled my paperwork, brought me soup, and meticulously coordinated with Maya<\/strong> to find proof of Rick\u2019s betrayal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI found it,\u201d Maya<\/strong> whispered, sneaking into my room with a USB drive. \u201cRick<\/strong> plugged a flash drive into your computer the day you were suspended. My hacker friend recovered the deleted logs. But Chloe\u2026 there\u2019s more. Rick didn\u2019t act alone. He was communicating with Alex.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex had conspired to ruin my career so I would have no choice but to crawl back to him. It was a calculated, monstrous act of domestic siege.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But just as we prepared to strike back, Leo\u2019s world imploded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy mother,\u201d he said, his voice raw. \u201cShe\u2019s taken a turn. She\u2019s in the ICU.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We stood outside the glass, watching Martha<\/strong> slip away. In her final moments, she looked at us and smiled, believing her son was finally loved. When she passed, she left us the Sterling family heirloom<\/strong>\u2014a jade bracelet\u2014and her will, which deeded us the family home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But death brought the taxman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Less than forty-eight hours after the funeral, the police arrived at my apartment. They didn\u2019t come for Rick. They came for Leo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLeo Sterling<\/strong>, you\u2019re under arrest for wire fraud and tax evasion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood in the doorway, clutching the jade bracelet as my husband was led away in handcuffs. Alex Vance\u2019s laughter echoed through my phone minutes later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told you you\u2019d regret this, Chloe! I tipped off the feds. If I\u2019m going down for the leak, I\u2019m taking your \u2018CEO\u2019 with me. He embezzled millions to pay for his mother\u2019s chemo. He\u2019s a thief.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The realization hit me like a physical blow. Leo hadn\u2019t married me just to please his mother; he had married me because he was a man drowning in debt and desperation, trying to keep a dying woman alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Was everything a lie? I wondered, staring at the empty living room. Or was he just as broken as I was?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t run. For the first time in my life, I didn\u2019t play the victim. I used my salary advance and every cent of my savings to hire Mr. Davies<\/strong>, a shark of a defense attorney.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLeo moved the money,\u201d Mr. Davies<\/strong> told me, \u201cbut he was entrapped. The investor who gave him the predatory loan was Daniel Vance<\/strong>\u2014Alex\u2019s uncle. It was a setup to steal Leo\u2019s software patents.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trial was a battlefield. I sat in the front row, five months pregnant, my belly a prominent curve under my black dress. I watched as Leo took the stand, not as a mogul, but as a son who would have burned the world to save his mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI misappropriated the funds,\u201d Leo admitted, his eyes finding mine. \u201cBut I never intended to steal. I intended to survive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through a stroke of divine justice, Daniel Vance<\/strong> was arrested for a separate Ponzi scheme that same week. To save himself, he turned on Alex. The evidence was insurmountable. Alex and Rick had conspired to frame me and destroy Leo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The judge\u2019s voice boomed through the courtroom. \u201cConsidering the extenuating circumstances and the clear evidence of entrapment, the court sentences Leo Sterling<\/strong> to two years suspended, with three years of probation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We walked out of the courthouse into the blinding sun. But the victory was hollow. That night, the searing pain returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Placental abruption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I woke up in a recovery room to the sound of silence. Leo was by my bed, his eyes red and raw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Chloe,\u201d he choked out. \u201cThe baby\u2026 Lucas\u2026 he didn\u2019t make it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The world turned into a vast, empty darkness. I had lost the one thing that connected me to my past, and the one thing I thought would define my future. For a month, I was a ghost. I didn\u2019t eat. I didn\u2019t speak. I lived in the shadow of a child I would never hold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But Leo didn\u2019t leave. He quit his new job to nurse me. He held me through the night-terrors. He became the anchor I never asked for but desperately needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe can heal, Chloe,\u201d he whispered one evening as we watched the sunset over the Rockies. \u201cMaybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But we have a lifetime of \u2018Okay\u2019 left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Healing came in the form of a three-year-old girl named Lily<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We found her at a county children\u2019s center. She had big, bright eyes and a laugh that sounded like silver bells. The adoption process was long and grueling, a penance for our messy beginnings. But when she finally called me \u201cMommy,\u201d the hole in my heart began to close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We moved into Martha\u2019s<\/strong> old bungalow, painting the walls a warm, defiant yellow. Leo started a new company, a modest startup that hummed with honest potential. I opened a flower shop, surrounding myself with things that grew toward the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On Lily\u2019s third birthday, we threw a party in the backyard. Maya<\/strong> came, bringing her new boyfriend, Dylan<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s an insurance agent,\u201d Maya<\/strong> said, beaming. \u201cHe\u2019s been so supportive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But as the night wore on, I noticed Dylan<\/strong> watching Lily with a strange, predatory intensity. He asked questions that felt like probes. Where did you adopt her? What was the process? Who are her biological parents?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Late that night, Maya<\/strong> called me, her voice trembling with terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cChloe, I just found out. Dylan<\/strong>\u2026 his real name is Dylan Reed<\/strong>. He\u2019s Alex Vance\u2019s cousin. He only got close to me to find you. Alex is in prison, but he\u2019s obsessed with Lily.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The peace we had fought for was a house of cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat does he want?\u201d I asked, looking at my daughter sleeping peacefully with her teddy bear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe knows who her parents are, Chloe,\u201d Maya<\/strong> sobbed. \u201cLily wasn\u2019t just a foundling. She was abandoned by people who are very, very rich. And very, very dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

The next morning, Dylan Reed<\/strong> stood on our doorstep, soaking wet from a mountain storm, a manic grin on his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLily\u2019s biological parents are the Hamiltons<\/strong>,\u201d he sneered, tossing a manila envelope onto our coffee table. \u201cBillionaires. They were in hiding for three years because of an Interpol investigation. Now they\u2019re back, and they want their daughter. They\u2019re offering five million for her return. I want a one-million-dollar finder\u2019s fee from you to make the paperwork \u2018disappear.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leo stepped forward, his hand gripping a kitchen chair until his knuckles turned white. \u201cGet out of our house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll sue you for kidnapping,\u201d Dylan<\/strong> warned. \u201cYou never disclosed her full background. Alex is dying of stomach cancer in the prison ward, and his last wish was to see you lose everything you love. He\u2019s the one who gave me the intel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were trapped between a dying man\u2019s spite and a billionaire\u2019s reach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We met the Hamiltons<\/strong> in a sterile boardroom. They were polished, poised, and cold as ice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe want our daughter back,\u201d Mrs. Hamilton<\/strong> stated, not even looking at the photos of Lily\u2019s happy life with us. \u201cWe are prepared to offer you generous compensation for your\u2026 services.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe isn\u2019t a service,\u201d I said, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and love. \u201cShe\u2019s a child who thinks we are the center of the universe. You abandoned her at a hospital with nothing but a jade pendant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe were in hiding!\u201d she cried. \u201cOur lives were in danger!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFrom business rivals?\u201d Leo asked, sliding a file across the table. \u201cMaya<\/strong>\u2019s father did some digging. Your husband was wanted for international securities fraud. You didn\u2019t hide to protect Lily; you hid to protect your money. And you left her behind because a baby was a liability during a flight from the feds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The silence that followed was the sound of a total collapse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have the law on our side,\u201d Mr. Hamilton<\/strong> blustered, though his face was ashen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd we have the media,\u201d I countered. \u201cHow will your \u2018return to society\u2019 go when the world learns you abandoned your infant daughter to escape a fraud charge? We will fight you in every court, in every newspaper, until you are a pariah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The battle lasted a week. In the end, the Hamiltons<\/strong>\u2014fearing the reopening of their criminal case\u2014signed an agreement. We retained full custody. They were granted supervised visits, which they rarely used. They wanted the idea of a daughter, not the reality of a child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dylan Reed<\/strong> was arrested for extortion. Alex Vance died in his prison cell forty-eight hours later, alone and unmourned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Seven years later, I stood in my flower shop, arranging a bouquet of yellow roses. The sun was setting, casting long, golden shadows across the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leo pulled up in the SUV\u2014the same model, but a newer, humbler version. Lily, now ten, hopped out, followed by our son, Lucas<\/strong>, who we had named in honor of the brother he would never know. They were laughing, their shadows merging into one as they ran toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMommy, let\u2019s go home!\u201d Lily called out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put down the flowers and walked out to join them. I thought back to that desperate, heartbroken woman I was a decade ago, sitting on a plastic chair in City Hall, thinking her life was a tragedy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had no idea it was just the prologue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes, the most absurd beginnings\u2014a marriage born of spite, a contract between strangers\u2014lead to the most beautiful endings. It\u2019s not about where you start, but about the person who stays beside you when the world tries to tear you down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leo took my hand as we walked toward the car. He still smelled of cedar, though the tobacco was long gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember that day?\u201d he whispered. \u201cWhen Brenda<\/strong> told us to get hitched?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I leaned my head on his shoulder. \u201cIt was the only \u2018Okay\u2019 that ever mattered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marriage, as it turns out, isn\u2019t a game of chicken. It\u2019s a leap of faith. And as we drove into the Colorado twilight, I knew that even if the storm returned, there were now four of us to hold up the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The End.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The third time was not a charm; it was a massacre of my dignity. Standing in the hollow, marble-clad echo chamber of Denver City Hall, I<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5616,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5615","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/02\/622381769_1295565369260507_5800920637104430926_n.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5615","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5615"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5615\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5617,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5615\/revisions\/5617"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5616"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5615"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5615"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humorsidehub.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5615"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}