\u201cMom, may I please get up now?\u201d<\/p>\n
My seven-year-old daughter, Sophie, sat perfectly still at the dinner table, her hands folded beside her plate.<\/p>\n
I looked up from my food.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve finished eating, sweetheart. Of course you can get up.\u201d<\/p>\n
She glanced toward my husband, Marty, before slowly pushing back her chair.<\/p>\n
That tiny movement unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.<\/p>\n
Before Marty and I married, Sophie had been a lively, fearless little girl. She used to race through the house in her socks, climb onto the sofa with a book, and ask a hundred questions before breakfast.<\/p>\n
Now she asked permission for everything.<\/p>\n
Could she get a glass of water?<\/p>\n
Could she use the bathroom?<\/p>\n
Could she turn on the television?<\/p>\n
Sometimes, she even asked whether she was allowed to speak while the adults were talking.<\/p>\n
At first, I blamed the changes on adjustment.<\/p>\n
Sophie had been four when I married Marty. Her biological father had moved to another state, and although he called regularly, he wasn’t part of her everyday life. I thought she was learning how to live with a stepfather and a new family routine.<\/p>\n
Marty had seemed like the answer to my prayers.<\/p>\n
He coached Sophie’s soccer team. He packed her school lunches when I worked early shifts. He attended parent-teacher meetings and remembered the names of her classmates.<\/p>\n
Our wedding had been beautiful. We spent nearly $21,000 on the ceremony and reception, filling a little church with flowers and inviting everyone we loved.<\/p>\n
I had believed I was giving Sophie a stable home.<\/p>\n
But lately, something about her frightened me.<\/p>\n
She had stopped inviting friends over.<\/p>\n
She no longer ran to the door when Marty came home.<\/p>\n
And whenever I mentioned working late, she became unusually quiet.<\/p>\n
One Thursday evening, I found her sitting on the edge of her bed, carefully arranging her stuffed animals in a straight line.<\/p>\n
I sat beside her.<\/p>\n
\u201cSweetheart, can I ask you something?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded without looking at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you been feeling okay lately?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sure? You seem worried about something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her fingers tightened around a stuffed rabbit.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
Finally, she whispered, \u201cMom, can I tell you something without you getting mad?\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart began to pound.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can always tell me anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward the bedroom door.<\/p>\n
\u201cMarty has rules for when you’re at work.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept my voice gentle.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of rules, sweetheart?\u201d<\/p>\n
She pulled her knees against her chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m not allowed to sit on the furniture.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have to stand in the corner until my legs hurt. And I’m not allowed to get snacks unless he says I can.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt a cold sensation spread through my chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes he make you stand in the corner every time I’m gone?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long do you have to stand there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUntil he says I can stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached for her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause he said you’d be sad. And he said if I told you, he’d make things worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed hard.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say he’d do?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophie’s voice became so quiet I almost couldn’t hear it.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said he’d tell you I’m a bad girl. He said you’d believe him because he’s your husband.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n
Then Sophie said something that made my heart stop.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said if you ever left him, he’d make sure I never saw you again.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held Sophie close.<\/p>\n
I wanted to rush downstairs, confront Marty, and demand to know how he could frighten a child who trusted him.<\/p>\n
But I forced myself to remain calm.<\/p>\n
Sophie was watching my face, waiting to see whether I would become angry.<\/p>\n
I didn’t want her to think she had done something wrong by telling me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou haven’t done anything bad,\u201d I whispered. \u201cNot one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She began to cry.<\/p>\n
\u201cI tried to be good, Mommy. I really did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes my legs hurt so much.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes for a moment.<\/p>\n
The image of my little girl standing alone in a corner while I worked late was almost unbearable.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long has this been happening?\u201d<\/p>\n
She thought for a moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cSince the beginning of summer.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was nearly three months.<\/p>\n
Three months of me leaving for work, kissing her forehead, and telling her to have a good day\u2014never knowing what happened after I closed the door.<\/p>\n
I asked whether Marty had ever hurt her physically.<\/p>\n
She shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe doesn’t hit me. He just gets really mad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHas he ever stopped you from calling me?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe says you’re busy and I shouldn’t bother you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I remembered the messages I had received during work.<\/p>\n
Sophie’s doing fine. Don’t worry.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, when I called home during my break, Marty answered and said Sophie was playing.<\/p>\n
I had never questioned him.<\/p>\n
Now I wondered how many times she had been sitting in that corner while he told me everything was fine.<\/p>\n
I kissed her forehead.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for telling me. I’m going to take care of this.\u201d<\/p>\n
She gripped my shirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don’t tell him I told you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won’t blame you for anything,\u201d I said. \u201cYou are not in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stayed beside her until she fell asleep.<\/p>\n
Then I went downstairs.<\/p>\n
Marty was sitting on the sofa, watching television.<\/p>\n
He looked up and smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything okay with Sophie?\u201d<\/p>\n
I studied him.<\/p>\n
For three years, I had believed I knew this man.<\/p>\n
I had trusted him with my daughter.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said carefully. \u201cShe’s tired.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded and returned to the television.<\/p>\n
I sat in the chair opposite him, trying to keep my expression neutral.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you usually do with Sophie when I’m working late?\u201d<\/p>\n
He barely glanced at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cSame as always. Dinner, homework, television. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe seems nervous lately.\u201d<\/p>\n
Marty shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe needs more discipline. She’s getting spoiled.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe asks for everything. She’s old enough to follow rules without being reminded.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat rules?\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned down the television.<\/p>\n
\u201cAngela, don’t start this. I’ve been helping raise your daughter for three years. I know what I’m doing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my hands tighten in my lap.<\/p>\n
\u201cI appreciate everything you’ve done for her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen trust me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said it so smoothly that, for a moment, I almost doubted what Sophie had told me.<\/p>\n
Then I remembered her trembling voice.<\/p>\n
He said you’d believe him because he’s your husband.<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m going to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Marty looked annoyed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt’s not even nine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m tired.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned the television back up.<\/p>\n
I walked upstairs and closed the bedroom door.<\/p>\n
Then I called my sister, Rachel.<\/p>\n
Rachel arrived the following morning.<\/p>\n
I told her everything Sophie had said.<\/p>\n
She listened without interrupting, her expression growing more serious with every sentence.<\/p>\n
When I finished, she asked, \u201cIs Sophie safe with him right now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMarty is at work. Sophie is at school.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen don’t leave her alone with him until you understand what’s happening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rachel took my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don’t have to figure out everything today. But you need to protect her.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was right.<\/p>\n
I contacted Sophie’s school counselor and arranged a meeting. I also called our pediatrician to discuss Sophie’s anxiety and the pain she had described in her legs.<\/p>\n
I did not ask Sophie to repeat her story over and over. I wanted her to speak with a trained professional who could help her without making her feel as though she was being questioned.<\/p>\n
The counselor listened carefully.<\/p>\n
She explained that a child who is frightened of a caregiver may become unusually obedient, withdrawn, or anxious about ordinary activities.<\/p>\n
Those signs did not establish everything that had happened, but they were serious enough to warrant attention.<\/p>\n
She helped me contact the appropriate child-protection service for guidance.<\/p>\n
I also spoke with a family-law attorney about my options.<\/p>\n
The attorney advised me to document what Sophie had told me in her own words, preserve relevant messages, and avoid confronting Marty in a way that could place Sophie at greater risk.<\/p>\n
For the first time, I understood that protecting my daughter would require more than an emotional argument.<\/p>\n
I needed a plan.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, I collected Sophie from school and took her to Rachel’s house.<\/p>\n
I told Marty that Rachel had invited us to dinner.<\/p>\n
He didn’t object.<\/p>\n
When he asked when we would be home, I said we might stay overnight.<\/p>\n
He replied with a thumbs-up emoji.<\/p>\n
I stared at the message for a long time.<\/p>\n
He had no idea that my daughter and I were no longer going to follow his rules.<\/p>\n
The next two days were difficult.<\/p>\n
Sophie slept beside me at Rachel’s house.<\/p>\n
She woke twice during the night, frightened that Marty might come looking for her.<\/p>\n
Each time, I reassured her that she was safe.<\/p>\n
On Saturday morning, she asked whether she could eat breakfast on the sofa.<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cEven if Marty isn’t here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven then.\u201d<\/p>\n
She climbed onto the sofa with her cereal bowl, but she sat stiffly, as if waiting for someone to tell her to get down.<\/p>\n
I sat beside her.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can relax, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
It took several minutes before her shoulders began to loosen.<\/p>\n
That small moment broke my heart.<\/p>\n
A child should not have to relearn that sitting on a sofa is allowed.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, the counselor and child-protection worker helped arrange the next steps.<\/p>\n
I learned that I should not promise Sophie that nothing frightening would ever happen again. Instead, I should tell her what I could do to keep her safe and make sure she knew whom she could contact.<\/p>\n
We created a simple plan.<\/p>\n
If she felt frightened, she could go to me, Rachel, her school counselor, or another trusted adult.<\/p>\n
She would never be expected to keep a secret that made her feel unsafe.<\/p>\n
I also changed the arrangements for school pickup and made sure Marty could not collect her without my knowledge.<\/p>\n
When my attorney explained that I could seek a protective order if the circumstances warranted it, I began gathering the information needed to determine whether that was appropriate.<\/p>\n
I was no longer willing to assume that Marty would behave reasonably simply because he had once been kind.<\/p>\n
Marty finally called on Sunday evening.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you two?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAt Rachel’s.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI needed some time.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cTime for what? Angela, you’re acting like I’ve done something terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Sophie.<\/p>\n
She was coloring at the kitchen table, but she had stopped moving her pencil.<\/p>\n
I walked into another room before answering.<\/p>\n
\u201cSophie told me about the rules you’ve been making her follow when I’m at work.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a long pause.<\/p>\n
Then Marty sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, for heaven’s sake. She told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe left out the part where she refuses to listen. I was trying to teach her respect.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBy making her stand in a corner until her legs hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe exaggerates.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you tell her that if I left you, you’d make sure she never saw me again?\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then his voice hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said she shouldn’t assume she could manipulate you by running to you every time she didn’t get her way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn’t what I asked.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re twisting my words.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took a slow breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you make her stand in a corner as punishment?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes. Kids need boundaries.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you tell her she wasn’t allowed to sit on the furniture?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told her not to make herself comfortable when she was supposed to be doing something else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn’t the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAngela, you’re turning this into something it isn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked through the doorway at my daughter.<\/p>\n
She was watching me.<\/p>\n
I lowered my voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cSophie won’t be staying alone with you anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Marty’s tone changed immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can’t make that decision without talking to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can make decisions to protect my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour daughter?\u201d he snapped. \u201cI’ve raised her for three years!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I trusted you to treat her with kindness.\u201d<\/p>\n
He began talking over me.<\/p>\n
He accused me of being ungrateful. He reminded me of the soccer practices, the lunches, the school events.<\/p>\n
I listened until he stopped.<\/p>\n
Then I said, \u201cDoing kind things for a child doesn’t give you permission to frighten her.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hung up.<\/p>\n
The following week, Marty came to the house while Rachel was with us.<\/p>\n
He knocked repeatedly.<\/p>\n
I did not open the door.<\/p>\n
Instead, I spoke to him through it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy attorney can communicate with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m your husband!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot a reason for me to ignore what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
He struck the door with his palm.<\/p>\n
\u201cAngela, open this door.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophie stood behind me, shaking.<\/p>\n
I moved her into the living room with Rachel and called for help.<\/p>\n
Marty eventually stepped away from the door when he realized I would not let him inside.<\/p>\n
Later, he sent a series of messages accusing me of destroying our marriage over a child’s misunderstanding.<\/p>\n
I saved every one.<\/p>\n
My attorney helped me arrange a formal separation and begin the process of ending the marriage.<\/p>\n
The child-protection worker continued assessing the situation. I cooperated fully and followed the safety recommendations.<\/p>\n
I did not know whether Marty would face any legal consequences for his treatment of Sophie.<\/p>\n
That decision belonged to the authorities and the courts.<\/p>\n
My responsibility was clearer.<\/p>\n
My daughter needed to feel safe in her own home.<\/p>\n
The hardest part came several weeks later.<\/p>\n
Sophie and I were sitting at the kitchen table when she asked, \u201cMom, are you going to marry someone else?\u201d<\/p>\n
I set down my cup.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know, sweetheart. Not anytime soon.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWill he have rules?\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached for her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery family has rules. We have rules about brushing our teeth, doing homework, and being kind to each other.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut will he make me stand in the corner?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWill he get mad if I ask for water?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
She studied my face, searching for the smallest sign that I might be lying.<\/p>\n
I leaned closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf an adult ever makes you feel frightened or tells you to keep a secret that makes you uncomfortable, you can always tell me. You will never be in trouble for asking for help.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
Then she asked, \u201cWas it my fault?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question nearly broke me.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said immediately. \u201cNone of this was your fault.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I didn’t always listen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery child makes mistakes. Adults are responsible for handling those mistakes safely. You did not deserve to be frightened.\u201d<\/p>\n
She began to cry.<\/p>\n
I held her.<\/p>\n
For a long time, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
I wished I could erase every afternoon she had spent standing in that corner. I wished I could take away the fear that had made her ask permission to get out of her own chair.<\/p>\n
But I couldn’t change what had happened.<\/p>\n
I could only make sure she didn’t have to face it alone again.<\/p>\n
The divorce took several months.<\/p>\n
Marty contested parts of the separation and insisted that I was overreacting.<\/p>\n
But the evidence of his behavior, along with the professional concerns raised during the assessment, became part of the legal process.<\/p>\n
The arrangements for Sophie were handled through the appropriate channels. Marty was not allowed to care for her alone while the matter was being addressed.<\/p>\n
I did not celebrate those decisions.<\/p>\n
I had once loved him.<\/p>\n
I had believed he would be a good stepfather.<\/p>\n
And I grieved the family I thought we were building.<\/p>\n
But grief did not change what Sophie needed.<\/p>\n
Eventually, the divorce was finalized.<\/p>\n
The church wedding that had cost nearly $21,000 became a memory of a life I had hoped would last.<\/p>\n
I stopped wearing my wedding ring.<\/p>\n
I returned to work, adjusted my schedule, and leaned on Rachel and a few close friends.<\/p>\n
Sophie began meeting regularly with a child therapist.<\/p>\n
Progress came slowly.<\/p>\n
At first, she asked permission before doing almost anything.<\/p>\n
Then she began making small choices.<\/p>\n
She picked her own clothes.<\/p>\n
She invited a friend over.<\/p>\n
She started playing soccer again.<\/p>\n
One evening, I found her sitting cross-legged on the living-room sofa, reading a book.<\/p>\n
She looked up when I entered.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, can I have a snack?\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n
She went to the kitchen, opened the cupboard, and chose an apple.<\/p>\n
Then she returned to the sofa without looking toward the door.<\/p>\n
I stood there for a moment, watching her read.<\/p>\n
It was such an ordinary thing.<\/p>\n
And it felt like a miracle.<\/p>\n
A year later, Sophie was eight.<\/p>\n
She was still cautious around unfamiliar adults, and some days were harder than others. Healing did not happen in a straight line.<\/p>\n
But she laughed more.<\/p>\n
She asked questions without apologizing.<\/p>\n
She sometimes made a mess in the kitchen while helping me bake cookies.<\/p>\n
And when dinner was over, she no longer waited for permission to leave the table.<\/p>\n
One night, she finished her meal, pushed back her chair, and said, \u201cI’m going to show Aunt Rachel my drawing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, sweetheart.\u201d<\/p>\n
She ran down the hallway.<\/p>\n
I watched her go, remembering the little girl who had once sat perfectly still, afraid to move without permission.<\/p>\n
I had spent a long time blaming myself for not noticing sooner.<\/p>\n
I wondered how many signs I had missed because Marty seemed so helpful.<\/p>\n
How many times had I accepted his reassurance because I wanted our marriage to work?<\/p>\n
How many times had Sophie tried to tell me something without having the words?<\/p>\n
I eventually learned that guilt could become another trap.<\/p>\n
I could acknowledge what I had missed without making myself responsible for Marty’s choices.<\/p>\n
I had trusted him.<\/p>\n
He had abused that trust.<\/p>\n
And when my daughter finally told me what was happening, I believed her and acted.<\/p>\n
That was what mattered now.<\/p>\n
Later that evening, Sophie climbed onto the sofa beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I sit here?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the cushion beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnytime you want.\u201d<\/p>\n
She leaned against my shoulder.<\/p>\n
After a few minutes, she whispered, \u201cI like our house now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kissed the top of her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cMe too.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside, the evening settled over the neighborhood.<\/p>\n
Inside, my daughter sat wherever she wanted, spoke whenever she needed to, and knew that she would be heard.<\/p>\n
I had once believed a beautiful wedding and a devoted husband were the foundation of a happy family.<\/p>\n
Now I understood something more important.<\/p>\n
A home is not made safe by the promises adults make at an altar.<\/p>\n
It is made safe by what they do when no one is watching.<\/p>\n
And a child should never have to earn the right to feel safe in her own home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cMom, may I please get up now?\u201d My seven-year-old daughter, Sophie, sat perfectly still at the dinner table, her hands folded beside her plate. I looked up from my food. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":111389,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-111433","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-best-best-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111433","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=111433"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111433\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":111434,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/111433\/revisions\/111434"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/111389"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=111433"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=111433"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=111433"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}