For twelve years, I paid for my husband’s mother’s prescriptions.<\/p>\n
I never kept a record of every dollar. I never asked her to pay me back. And I certainly never imagined that one day, after she was gone, anyone would question whether I had the right to stand beside her family.<\/p>\n
Her name was Margaret. She was seventy-nine when she died, and she had been part of my life for nearly fifteen years.<\/p>\n
When I married her son, Daniel, she welcomed me with a warm hug and a plate of homemade lemon cookies. She wasn’t the kind of woman who made grand speeches about love. She showed it in small ways.<\/p>\n
She remembered how I liked my coffee. She sent me home with leftovers whenever we visited. If I mentioned having a difficult week, she would call the next morning just to ask whether I was feeling better.<\/p>\n
Her health began to decline twelve years before she died.<\/p>\n
At first, it was only a few prescriptions for blood pressure and arthritis. Then came heart medication, diabetes medication, and eventually several expensive treatments that her insurance didn’t fully cover.<\/p>\n
Daniel had two brothers, Michael and Steven. Both had families of their own. They always seemed to have reasons why they couldn’t contribute much.<\/p>\n
Michael was supposedly struggling with his mortgage. Steven said his business was going through a difficult period.<\/p>\n
Daniel would come home after visiting his mother, sit at the kitchen table, and rub his forehead.<\/p>\n
“Mom’s prescriptions are getting expensive,” he would say.<\/p>\n
“How much does she need?”<\/p>\n
“About three hundred this month. Maybe more.”<\/p>\n
I would open our banking app.<\/p>\n
“Send me the pharmacy information. I’ll take care of it.”<\/p>\n
That was how it started.<\/p>\n
Three hundred dollars became four hundred. Four hundred became six hundred during the months when Margaret needed additional medication.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I paid directly at the pharmacy. Other times I transferred money to Daniel, who told me he would handle it.<\/p>\n
I never complained.<\/p>\n
Margaret was family. And I knew she would have done the same for me if our positions had been reversed.<\/p>\n
There were months when we postponed buying new furniture. There were vacations we didn’t take. I even delayed replacing my old car because Margaret’s medical expenses had become unpredictable.<\/p>\n
Daniel always thanked me.<\/p>\n
“You’re a good woman,” he would say, kissing my forehead. “My brothers are lucky you don’t make a big deal out of this.”<\/p>\n
I believed him.<\/p>\n
I believed we were doing something meaningful together.<\/p>\n
What I didn’t know was that the truth about those payments was far more complicated than Daniel had ever admitted.<\/p>\n
For years, Margaret would sometimes hold my hand and say, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”<\/p>\n
I would smile.<\/p>\n
“You’re not alone, Margaret. We’re here.”<\/p>\n
She would look at me for a moment, almost as if she wanted to say something more.<\/p>\n
But she never did.<\/p>\n
Then, last winter, her condition deteriorated rapidly.<\/p>\n
She was admitted to the hospital twice in one month. Daniel and I took turns visiting her. I brought her favorite soup, helped organize her medications, and sat beside her bed when she couldn’t sleep.<\/p>\n
Her sons visited too, although not as regularly.<\/p>\n
Michael usually stayed for twenty minutes. Steven often called instead of coming.<\/p>\n
One afternoon, when Daniel stepped out to speak with a nurse, Margaret reached for my hand.<\/p>\n
“Have you been paying for my medicine all these years?” she whispered.<\/p>\n
I was surprised.<\/p>\n
“Daniel and I have been helping, yes.”<\/p>\n
She slowly shook her head.<\/p>\n
“Not Daniel. You.”<\/p>\n
I didn’t know what to say.<\/p>\n
She looked toward the doorway, then back at me.<\/p>\n
“Thank you for never making me feel like a burden.”<\/p>\n
I squeezed her hand.<\/p>\n
“You never were one.”<\/p>\n
Her eyes became wet.<\/p>\n
“I wish I could make things right.”<\/p>\n
I thought she was talking about her illness, so I told her not to worry.<\/p>\n
“Just focus on getting better.”<\/p>\n
She smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
That was the last serious conversation we ever had.<\/p>\n
Three weeks later, Margaret died peacefully in the hospital.<\/p>\n
I was devastated.<\/p>\n
I had known her for so long that it felt as if a piece of my own family had disappeared.<\/p>\n
I washed the last hospital blanket, folded her cardigan, and placed the small things she had left at our house into a box.<\/p>\n
I was still trying to accept that she was gone when Daniel received a call from Michael.<\/p>\n
His brothers were already at their mother’s house.<\/p>\n
They wanted everyone to come over to sort through her belongings.<\/p>\n
I assumed they wanted to divide things fairly.<\/p>\n
I was wrong.<\/p>\n
When I arrived, Michael was carrying a wooden cabinet toward his truck.<\/p>\n
Steven had opened the dining-room drawers and was putting silverware into boxes.<\/p>\n
A cousin was examining Margaret’s television.<\/p>\n
“What’s happening?” I asked.<\/p>\n
Michael barely looked at me.<\/p>\n
“We’re sorting Mom’s things.”<\/p>\n
“I can help.”<\/p>\n
He gave me a strange look.<\/p>\n
“Actually, this is something the family should handle.”<\/p>\n
I stood still.<\/p>\n
“I’m part of the family.”<\/p>\n
Steven laughed quietly.<\/p>\n
“You’re married into the family. That’s different.”<\/p>\n
Daniel looked uncomfortable but said nothing.<\/p>\n
I tried to ignore the remark.<\/p>\n
I picked up a small jewelry box from the dresser. It contained Margaret’s inexpensive earrings, a silver bracelet, and a gold necklace she had worn to my wedding.<\/p>\n
“I think she would have wanted us to decide together what to do with these,” I said.<\/p>\n
Michael immediately took the box from my hands.<\/p>\n
“Those are blood-family items.”<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
“What does that mean?”<\/p>\n
“It means they stay with her children and grandchildren.”<\/p>\n
“But I was with her for twelve years. I helped care for her.”<\/p>\n
Steven crossed his arms.<\/p>\n
“Nobody is denying that you helped. But helping someone doesn’t make you an heir.”<\/p>\n
The room went quiet.<\/p>\n
I looked at Daniel, expecting him to defend me.<\/p>\n
He lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n
“Let’s not argue today,” he said.<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me collapse.<\/p>\n
I hadn’t asked for the jewelry because I needed it. I wasn’t interested in selling her possessions or taking anything away from her children.<\/p>\n
I simply thought that after twelve years of being there for her, I deserved to be treated with a little kindness.<\/p>\n
Instead, I was being reminded that I wasn’t truly one of them.<\/p>\n
I placed the empty jewelry-box lid on the dresser.<\/p>\n
“Fine,” I said.<\/p>\n
I walked out without taking anything.<\/p>\n
Daniel followed me to the car.<\/p>\n
“Don’t let them upset you,” he said.<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
“Why didn’t you say anything?”<\/p>\n
“They’re grieving.”<\/p>\n
“So am I.”<\/p>\n
He sighed.<\/p>\n
“You’re making this bigger than it needs to be.”<\/p>\n
I didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
On the drive home, I watched the houses pass outside the window and wondered how someone could spend twelve years helping a family and still be treated like an outsider.<\/p>\n
For three days, I barely spoke about it.<\/p>\n
I didn’t want another argument.<\/p>\n
Then, on Thursday morning, the pharmacy called.<\/p>\n
The woman on the phone introduced herself as Laura.<\/p>\n
“Hello. Are you Daniel’s wife?”<\/p>\n
“Yes. Why?”<\/p>\n
“We’re calling about an envelope that was left in Mrs. Margaret’s medication bag. We were cleaning out her account after her passing, and we found your name written on it. We weren’t sure whether you had already received it.”<\/p>\n
My heart began beating faster.<\/p>\n
“An envelope?”<\/p>\n
“Yes. It appears to contain some receipts and a notarized document. Mrs. Margaret asked us several months ago to keep it with her medication records in case anything happened to her.”<\/p>\n
I went quiet.<\/p>\n
“Could I come pick it up?”<\/p>\n
“Of course.”<\/p>\n
I drove to the pharmacy that afternoon.<\/p>\n
Laura recognized me and brought out a small brown envelope.<\/p>\n
My name was written on the front in Margaret’s handwriting.<\/p>\n
Underneath it were five words:<\/p>\n
For the woman who stayed.<\/p>\n
My hands began trembling.<\/p>\n
I sat in my car and opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside was a stack of small receipts.<\/p>\n
They were pharmacy receipts, bank transfer confirmations, and handwritten notes dating back twelve years.<\/p>\n
I looked at the first one.<\/p>\n
It showed a payment for Margaret’s medication.<\/p>\n
The payment method was listed under my name.<\/p>\n
The next receipt showed the same thing.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
And another.<\/p>\n
There were dozens of them.<\/p>\n
But the receipts weren’t the only thing inside.<\/p>\n
There was a notarized document, dated seven months earlier.<\/p>\n
I unfolded it carefully.<\/p>\n
It was a signed declaration from Margaret.<\/p>\n
The first paragraph explained that she had asked the pharmacy to preserve a record of the person who had consistently paid for her prescriptions.<\/p>\n
The second paragraph stated that Margaret had personally reviewed her financial records and wanted to document something she believed her children needed to know.<\/p>\n
Then I reached the final page.<\/p>\n
I read it once.<\/p>\n
Then I read it again.<\/p>\n
Margaret had written that, over the previous twelve years, I had paid a total of $48,760 toward her prescriptions and medical expenses.<\/p>\n
She had also stated that she had never received the money from her sons, despite being told by Daniel on several occasions that he and his brothers were helping cover those costs.<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n
But the last paragraph was what made my hands go cold.<\/p>\n
Margaret had written:<\/p>\n
“I have been told by my son Daniel that my daughter-in-law has offered to help me because she wants to. I have also learned that some of the money she believes she is contributing to my care has been collected from her and represented to me as coming from all three of my sons. I do not know how much of this was intentional, but I know that she deserves the truth. If I am no longer here to explain it, please give her these records.”<\/p>\n
I couldn’t breathe for a moment.<\/p>\n
I looked at the receipts again.<\/p>\n
The money I had sent to Daniel had not always gone directly toward Margaret’s prescriptions.<\/p>\n
Some of the receipts showed that the pharmacy had received payments directly from me.<\/p>\n
Others were handwritten notes Margaret had kept after Daniel told her that his brothers had contributed.<\/p>\n
There were dates when he claimed Michael had paid two hundred dollars.<\/p>\n
There were dates when he said Steven had covered a prescription.<\/p>\n
But the bank records in the envelope showed that the money had come from me.<\/p>\n
Margaret had been quietly comparing the records for months.<\/p>\n
And she had discovered something I hadn’t wanted to consider.<\/p>\n
Daniel had been taking money from me, telling his mother it came from his brothers, and telling me that he was using it for her.<\/p>\n
I sat in the car for nearly twenty minutes.<\/p>\n
Then I called my husband.<\/p>\n
He answered cheerfully.<\/p>\n
“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?”<\/p>\n
I stared at the notarized page.<\/p>\n
“Where did the money go, Daniel?”<\/p>\n
There was a pause.<\/p>\n
“What money?”<\/p>\n
“The forty-eight thousand seven hundred and sixty dollars I paid for your mother’s prescriptions and medical expenses.”<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
“How do you know that number?”<\/p>\n
“Your mother kept the receipts.”<\/p>\n
His breathing changed.<\/p>\n
“Where did you get those?”<\/p>\n
“From the pharmacy. She left them for me.”<\/p>\n
He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
“She also left a notarized statement saying you told her your brothers were contributing money that actually came from me.”<\/p>\n
“Listen,” he said quickly. “It’s not what you think.”<\/p>\n
“Then tell me what it is.”<\/p>\n
He sighed.<\/p>\n
“Michael and Steven were supposed to contribute. They kept promising they would. Mom was already stressed about money, so I didn’t want to tell her they weren’t helping.”<\/p>\n
“That doesn’t explain why you told me you were paying the pharmacy directly.”<\/p>\n
“I was going to pay it back.”<\/p>\n
“With what?”<\/p>\n
“I don’t know. I was trying to manage everything.”<\/p>\n
I looked at the papers again.<\/p>\n
“Daniel, did you use the money for your mother’s prescriptions?”<\/p>\n
Another silence.<\/p>\n
“Some of it.”<\/p>\n
The answer felt like a door slamming shut.<\/p>\n
“Some of it?”<\/p>\n
“I had other expenses. The mortgage was behind. We had bills. I was going to replace the money.”<\/p>\n
I felt sick.<\/p>\n
“How much?”<\/p>\n
“I don’t know exactly.”<\/p>\n
“Did you use my money to pay your credit card?”<\/p>\n
He didn’t respond.<\/p>\n
“Daniel?”<\/p>\n
“Yes.”<\/p>\n
“Did you use it to pay the loan on your truck?”<\/p>\n
He finally whispered, “Yes.”<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
For twelve years, I had believed I was helping an elderly woman afford the medication that kept her alive.<\/p>\n
I had postponed things I wanted. I had adjusted our household budget. I had taken extra shifts at work.<\/p>\n
And my husband had used some of that money to pay his own debts while allowing his mother to believe his brothers were helping.<\/p>\n
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“I was ashamed.”<\/p>\n
“No. You were comfortable letting me believe something that wasn’t true.”<\/p>\n
He began raising his voice.<\/p>\n
“You’re acting like I stole from you! I was taking care of my mother!”<\/p>\n
“Your mother knew you weren’t paying all the bills. That’s why she kept those records.”<\/p>\n
“She misunderstood.”<\/p>\n
“She signed a notarized statement, Daniel.”<\/p>\n
He went quiet.<\/p>\n
Then he said something that hurt even more.<\/p>\n
“Well, she’s gone now. There’s no reason to destroy our marriage over something from the past.”<\/p>\n
I looked down at the envelope.<\/p>\n
“She isn’t here to defend herself anymore. But she made sure I wouldn’t be left wondering.”<\/p>\n
I ended the call.<\/p>\n
That evening, Daniel came home and found the receipts spread across the dining table.<\/p>\n
He stood in the doorway.<\/p>\n
“Can we talk?”<\/p>\n
I didn’t move.<\/p>\n
“Sit down.”<\/p>\n
He sat.<\/p>\n
For the first time in our marriage, I asked him to explain every payment.<\/p>\n
I showed him the dates and amounts. I asked about the truck payment, the credit-card balances, and the transfers that never reached the pharmacy.<\/p>\n
He tried to explain that he had been under pressure.<\/p>\n
He said his brothers had disappointed him. He said his mother had needed help. He said he had intended to repay everything.<\/p>\n
Some of that might have been true.<\/p>\n
But none of it explained why he had lied repeatedly.<\/p>\n
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.<\/p>\n
“Did your brothers know?”<\/p>\n
He rubbed his face.<\/p>\n
“Know what?”<\/p>\n
“That you were telling me they were contributing?”<\/p>\n
He looked away.<\/p>\n
“I told them you were helping Mom.”<\/p>\n
“Did they know I was paying almost everything?”<\/p>\n
“Yes.”<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
“Both of them?”<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
That was when I understood why they had treated me the way they did at Margaret’s house.<\/p>\n
They knew I had paid for their mother’s care.<\/p>\n
They knew I had sacrificed for her.<\/p>\n
But when her belongings were being divided, they had called me an outsider because it was convenient.<\/p>\n
They had accepted my money for twelve years, but they didn’t want to acknowledge what it meant.<\/p>\n
The following morning, I contacted an attorney.<\/p>\n
I didn’t want revenge. I wanted the truth, and I wanted to know whether I had any legal options.<\/p>\n
The attorney reviewed the receipts, the bank statements, and Margaret’s notarized declaration.<\/p>\n
He explained that the document was not automatically a court judgment or proof that every payment was legally recoverable. But it was valuable evidence of Margaret’s understanding of what had happened.<\/p>\n
He also advised me to preserve every record and request a full accounting of the money I had transferred to Daniel.<\/p>\n
I followed his advice.<\/p>\n
When I requested the financial records, the truth became even clearer.<\/p>\n
Of the $48,760 documented by Margaret, $31,400 had been paid directly to the pharmacy or medical providers.<\/p>\n
The remaining $17,360 had been transferred to Daniel over the years.<\/p>\n
Some of those transfers had gone toward household expenses. Others had gone toward his personal debts.<\/p>\n
He had never told me that.<\/p>\n
I was angry, but I was also heartbroken.<\/p>\n
I had spent years believing that Daniel and I shared the same values.<\/p>\n
I believed that when someone in our family needed help, we helped without keeping score.<\/p>\n
But he had turned that generosity into something he could quietly use.<\/p>\n
A week later, Michael and Steven called a family meeting.<\/p>\n
They wanted to discuss Margaret’s estate.<\/p>\n
I agreed to attend, but I brought copies of the relevant documents.<\/p>\n
When I arrived, Michael was sitting at the dining table with a folder.<\/p>\n
Steven was beside him.<\/p>\n
Daniel looked uncomfortable.<\/p>\n
Michael began.<\/p>\n
“We need to settle everything. Mom’s belongings are being divided, and we don’t want any confusion.”<\/p>\n
I placed my folder on the table.<\/p>\n
“Before we do that, there’s something you should all know.”<\/p>\n
I handed each of them a copy of Margaret’s notarized statement.<\/p>\n
Michael read it first.<\/p>\n
His expression changed.<\/p>\n
Steven leaned over and began reading.<\/p>\n
“What is this?” he asked.<\/p>\n
“Your mother’s record of the money I paid for her prescriptions.”<\/p>\n
Michael looked up.<\/p>\n
“We knew you helped.”<\/p>\n
“Did you know Daniel told me you were contributing?”<\/p>\n
Neither answered.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
“Your mother documented that she was told the money came from all three of her sons. She later discovered that much of it came from me.”<\/p>\n
Steven shifted in his chair.<\/p>\n
“Daniel said you didn’t mind helping.”<\/p>\n
“I didn’t mind helping. I minded being lied to.”<\/p>\n
Michael placed the papers down.<\/p>\n
“Look, we all did what we could.”<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
“Then you shouldn’t have had a problem acknowledging what I did.”<\/p>\n
Steven became defensive.<\/p>\n
“We’re not discussing this to fight about money.”<\/p>\n
“Neither am I. I’m discussing it because your mother cared enough to leave the truth in writing.”<\/p>\n
Daniel finally spoke.<\/p>\n
“Can we stop? This is between my wife and me.”<\/p>\n
I turned toward him.<\/p>\n
“No. You made it a family matter when you told your brothers they were contributing and allowed them to accept credit for my payments.”<\/p>\n
Michael looked at Daniel.<\/p>\n
“Is that true?”<\/p>\n
Daniel didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
That silence was enough.<\/p>\n
For the first time, his brothers seemed to understand that the story they had been telling themselves was incomplete.<\/p>\n
I didn’t demand Margaret’s jewelry.<\/p>\n
I didn’t ask for her furniture.<\/p>\n
I didn’t take anything from the house.<\/p>\n
Instead, I asked for one thing.<\/p>\n
“Please stop telling people that I was just someone who married into this family and had no part in caring for your mother. I don’t need a necklace to prove I loved her. But I won’t let you erase what I did.”<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke.<\/p>\n
I gathered my papers and left.<\/p>\n
Over the next several weeks, Daniel and I began marriage counseling.<\/p>\n
I wasn’t ready to make a final decision about our marriage, but I knew I couldn’t continue as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n
Daniel eventually admitted that he had been embarrassed by his brothers’ inability to contribute and had started using the money for other expenses. At first, he intended to replace it. Later, the lies became easier than the truth.<\/p>\n
He also admitted that when his brothers praised him for taking care of Margaret, he never corrected them.<\/p>\n
That was the part I struggled to forgive.<\/p>\n
He hadn’t simply mishandled money.<\/p>\n
He had allowed me to carry the burden while accepting the recognition.<\/p>\n
We agreed that he would repay the $17,360 that had not gone toward Margaret’s care, subject to a full accounting and a written repayment schedule reviewed by my attorney.<\/p>\n
He began making monthly payments.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t enough to repair the damage, but it was a beginning.<\/p>\n
Michael eventually sent me a message.<\/p>\n
He wrote that he had never realized how much I had sacrificed and that he was sorry for the way he had spoken to me at the house.<\/p>\n
Steven never apologized directly.<\/p>\n
I stopped waiting for him to.<\/p>\n
A few months later, I returned to Margaret’s house with permission from the estate representative.<\/p>\n
The rooms were nearly empty.<\/p>\n
The wooden cabinet was gone. The dining table had been sold. Her favorite chair had been taken by Michael.<\/p>\n
But a small photograph remained on the mantel.<\/p>\n
It was from our wedding.<\/p>\n
Margaret was standing beside me, holding my arm and smiling.<\/p>\n
I took the photograph and asked whether I could keep it.<\/p>\n
There was no argument.<\/p>\n
I brought it home and placed it on the shelf beside our wedding picture.<\/p>\n
Behind it, I kept the notarized letter in a protective folder.<\/p>\n
Not because I wanted to remember the money.<\/p>\n
Because I wanted to remember what Margaret had tried to tell me.<\/p>\n
A year after her death, I received a handwritten envelope in the mail.<\/p>\n
It was from her attorney, who had been instructed to send it to me after the estate was settled.<\/p>\n
Inside was a short letter in Margaret’s handwriting.<\/p>\n
It read:<\/p>\n
“My dear girl,<\/p>\n
I know you never helped me because you expected anything in return. That is why I want you to understand that I never confused your kindness with an obligation.<\/p>\n
You gave me dignity when I was frightened about growing old. You made sure I could get the medicine I needed without having to beg my children. You sat beside me when I was lonely, and you never made me feel ashamed of needing help.<\/p>\n
I cannot give you back the years you spent helping me. I cannot give you the jewelry my sons will divide. But I hope you never believe that you were less family to me because you were not born into this family.<\/p>\n
You were family because you showed up.<\/p>\n
Thank you for staying.<\/p>\n
With all my love,<\/p>\n
Margaret.”<\/p>\n
I read the letter several times.<\/p>\n
Then I cried.<\/p>\n
Not because I had lost the jewelry.<\/p>\n
Not because I wanted the money.<\/p>\n
I cried because the woman I had helped for twelve years had understood something her own sons had forgotten.<\/p>\n
Family was never supposed to be measured by blood, inheritance, or who had the right to open a jewelry box.<\/p>\n
It was measured by who showed up when there was nothing to gain.<\/p>\n
Daniel and I are still working through what happened. Our marriage is not the same, and I don’t pretend that trust can be restored with a few apologies and monthly payments.<\/p>\n
Some days are easier than others.<\/p>\n
But I no longer pay for things simply because someone tells me that family needs me to.<\/p>\n
I ask questions. I keep records. And I never confuse being generous with having to remain silent.<\/p>\n
I still miss Margaret.<\/p>\n
Sometimes, when I pass the pharmacy where I used to collect her prescriptions, I think about those twelve years.<\/p>\n
I don’t regret helping her.<\/p>\n
Not one dollar.<\/p>\n
Because the truth is, she gave me something more valuable than anything her children took from her house.<\/p>\n
She gave me the knowledge that my kindness had mattered.<\/p>\n
And when I look at her photograph, I no longer see a woman whose family told me I didn’t belong.<\/p>\n
I see a woman who made sure I knew I did.<\/p>\n
Her sons inherited her furniture, her jewelry, and the things they could divide. But I carried home the one thing they could never take away: the knowledge that when Margaret needed someone, I was there\u2014and she knew it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
For twelve years, I paid for my husband’s mother’s prescriptions. I never kept a record of every dollar. I never asked her to pay me back. And I certainly never … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":137007,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-137013","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\/137013","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=137013"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137013\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137014,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137013\/revisions\/137014"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/137007"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=137013"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=137013"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=137013"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}