After my mother died, I found a high school yearbook hidden inside a locked drawer.<\/p>\n
It was from 1976.<\/p>\n
Her senior year.<\/p>\n
I wasn’t looking for anything unusual.<\/p>\n
I was simply going through her belongings because my father had asked me to help organize the house.<\/p>\n
My mother had always been private.<\/p>\n
She kept old photographs in envelopes.<\/p>\n
She rarely talked about high school.<\/p>\n
And whenever I asked about her first boyfriend, she would laugh and say:<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was another lifetime.\u201d<\/p>\n
I never pushed.<\/p>\n
Until I found the yearbook.<\/p>\n
The drawer had been locked for as long as I could remember.<\/p>\n
My father didn’t have the key.<\/p>\n
Neither did I.<\/p>\n
After searching through her jewelry box, I eventually found a tiny brass key taped beneath an old photograph.<\/p>\n
I unlocked the drawer.<\/p>\n
Inside were letters.<\/p>\n
Photographs.<\/p>\n
A pressed flower.<\/p>\n
And the yearbook.<\/p>\n
I opened it casually.<\/p>\n
Then I reached the final page.<\/p>\n
Someone had written a message in blue ink.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Margaret,<\/p>\n
I’ll find you again.<\/p>\n
I promise.<\/p>\n
\u2014James\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the name.<\/p>\n
James.<\/p>\n
My mother’s name was Margaret.<\/p>\n
My father’s name was Daniel.<\/p>\n
There had never been a James in our family.<\/p>\n
I turned through the yearbook.<\/p>\n
Then I found him.<\/p>\n
James Fuller.<\/p>\n
Class president.<\/p>\n
Football captain.<\/p>\n
Most Likely to Succeed.<\/p>\n
His photograph showed a smiling young man with dark hair and an impossibly confident expression.<\/p>\n
I looked at the yearbook again.<\/p>\n
Then at the locked drawer.<\/p>\n
Something didn’t feel right.<\/p>\n
So I searched his name online.<\/p>\n
It took less than ten minutes.<\/p>\n
James Fuller had become a lawyer.<\/p>\n
Then a judge.<\/p>\n
He had served on the bench for decades before retiring.<\/p>\n
He lived in Georgia.<\/p>\n
I stared at his photograph on the screen.<\/p>\n
He looked older, obviously.<\/p>\n
But I recognized his eyes.<\/p>\n
I didn’t know why.<\/p>\n
I found a public contact number.<\/p>\n
I stared at it for several minutes.<\/p>\n
Then I called.<\/p>\n
The phone rang four times.<\/p>\n
A man’s voice answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost hung up.<\/p>\n
Instead, I said:<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this Judge James Fuller?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Emily Carter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then another silence.<\/p>\n
Nearly ten seconds passed.<\/p>\n
Finally, I asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know who I am?\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice became very quiet.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause you’re Margaret’s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart started pounding.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know my mother?\u201d<\/p>\n
Another silence.<\/p>\n
Then he said:<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ve been waiting for this call for a very long time.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat down.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
He sighed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother asked me never to contact you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she wanted you to have the life she had built for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn’t understand.<\/p>\n
Then he said something that made my hands go cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ve been sending your mother $750 every month for almost forty years.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the wall.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery month.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe asked me to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I owed her.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about the yearbook.<\/p>\n
The name.<\/p>\n
The note.<\/p>\n
The locked drawer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWere you in love with her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer came immediately.<\/p>\n
No hesitation.<\/p>\n
No embarrassment.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father knows?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas my father aware of you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot the way you mean.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n
Then James said:<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily, I think you deserve to know the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I agreed to meet him.<\/p>\n
Two weeks later, I flew to Georgia.<\/p>\n
James met me outside a small restaurant near his home.<\/p>\n
He was eighty years old.<\/p>\n
He walked with a cane.<\/p>\n
But his eyes were the same.<\/p>\n
The same eyes from the yearbook.<\/p>\n
He looked at me for a long moment.<\/p>\n
Then he smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have her eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn’t know what to say.<\/p>\n
We sat down.<\/p>\n
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Finally, I asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you send my mother money?\u201d<\/p>\n
James folded his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause of something that happened in 1976.\u201d<\/p>\n
He told me they had been high school sweethearts.<\/p>\n
They were planning to attend college together.<\/p>\n
They had even talked about getting married.<\/p>\n
But James came from a wealthy family.<\/p>\n
Margaret did not.<\/p>\n
His father had made it clear that he would never approve of their relationship.<\/p>\n
When James received a scholarship to attend college out of state, his father gave him an ultimatum.<\/p>\n
End the relationship.<\/p>\n
Or lose everything.<\/p>\n
James chose Margaret.<\/p>\n
At least, he thought he did.<\/p>\n
Then tragedy struck.<\/p>\n
His father discovered the relationship and threatened to cut him off completely.<\/p>\n
James panicked.<\/p>\n
He broke up with Margaret.<\/p>\n
He left town.<\/p>\n
And by the time he realized what he had done, Margaret was gone.<\/p>\n
She had moved.<\/p>\n
She had married Daniel.<\/p>\n
She had started a family.<\/p>\n
But there was one thing James didn’t know.<\/p>\n
Margaret had been pregnant.<\/p>\n
With him.<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re saying\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’re my biological father.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words felt unreal.<\/p>\n
I actually laughed.<\/p>\n
Not because they were funny.<\/p>\n
Because my brain couldn’t process them.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father is Daniel.\u201d<\/p>\n
James nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen what are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m the man who should have been there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt tears filling my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid my mother know you were my father?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid my father know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
James looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause your mother asked me to stay away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
He took a deep breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe had decided Daniel was your father in every way that mattered.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was silent.<\/p>\n
James continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen I came back, I wanted to marry her.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell Daniel.<\/p>\n
I wanted to tell everyone.<\/p>\n
But your mother begged me not to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Daniel had adopted you emotionally before he ever knew the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about my father.<\/p>\n
The man who had taught me to ride a bicycle.<\/p>\n
Who waited outside my school on rainy days.<\/p>\n
Who attended every graduation.<\/p>\n
Who sat beside my hospital bed when I had surgery.<\/p>\n
Who had never once made me feel unwanted.<\/p>\n
James looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother told me something I’ll never forget.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said, ‘You may be her biological father, James, but Daniel is her dad.’\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo why the money?\u201d<\/p>\n
James smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Margaret refused to take anything from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wouldn’t let me be your father.<\/p>\n
She wouldn’t let me visit.<\/p>\n
She wouldn’t let me send gifts.<\/p>\n
But she agreed to one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could contribute to your future.\u201d<\/p>\n
The $750 monthly payments began when I was an infant.<\/p>\n
James had sent the money through a P.O. box in my mother’s name.<\/p>\n
He had continued every month.<\/p>\n
Through college.<\/p>\n
Through my marriage.<\/p>\n
Through the birth of my children.<\/p>\n
Even after Margaret stopped responding to his letters.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you ever stop?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she asked me not to.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe never used it for herself?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor forty years?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot a penny.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother had put every payment into an investment account.<\/p>\n
She had used the money for my education.<\/p>\n
My first car.<\/p>\n
My college apartment.<\/p>\n
And eventually, my first home.<\/p>\n
I felt sick.<\/p>\n
My entire life had been built partly with money from a man I didn’t even know existed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did she hide this from me?\u201d<\/p>\n
James looked toward the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she was afraid you’d feel divided.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood.<\/p>\n
She didn’t want me wondering whether I belonged to Daniel.<\/p>\n
She didn’t want me questioning my childhood.<\/p>\n
She didn’t want me growing up wondering whether the man who raised me was somehow less of a father because another man shared my blood.<\/p>\n
Then James reached into his briefcase.<\/p>\n
He pulled out a small box.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ve been waiting to give you this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Inside were letters.<\/p>\n
Dozens of them.<\/p>\n
All addressed to me.<\/p>\n
But none had ever been sent.<\/p>\n
The earliest was dated 1977.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear daughter,<\/p>\n
I don’t know whether you’ll ever know my name.<\/p>\n
But I hope you know that someone is thinking about you today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another was from 1985.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard you’re doing well in school.<\/p>\n
Your mother told me you’re stubborn.<\/p>\n
I hope you got that from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed through my tears.<\/p>\n
Another was dated the year I graduated college.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted to attend your graduation.<\/p>\n
Your mother said no.<\/p>\n
I understand.<\/p>\n
But I was proud anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept reading.<\/p>\n
There was one from the year I got married.<\/p>\n
\u201cToday you’re beginning a life of your own.<\/p>\n
I hope the man beside you understands how lucky he is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then one from the year my first child was born.<\/p>\n
\u201cI became a grandfather today.<\/p>\n
From a distance.<\/p>\n
I wonder if that counts.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t continue.<\/p>\n
I put the letters down.<\/p>\n
James looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never wanted to steal your father from you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wiped my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaniel sounds like a good man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas?\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe died five years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
James looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never met him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about that.<\/p>\n
Then something occurred to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid my mother ever tell you she loved you?\u201d<\/p>\n
James smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe last time I saw her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen was that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout two years before she died.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said, ‘I loved you once.<\/p>\n
But I chose my family.<\/p>\n
I don’t regret my choice.’\u201d<\/p>\n
I started crying.<\/p>\n
Because I finally understood my mother.<\/p>\n
She hadn’t erased James.<\/p>\n
She had simply chosen the life she believed was right.<\/p>\n
And perhaps that was the hardest thing about the truth.<\/p>\n
Nobody had been entirely innocent.<\/p>\n
Nobody had been entirely wrong.<\/p>\n
James had made a cowardly decision as a young man.<\/p>\n
My mother had kept an enormous secret.<\/p>\n
My father had unknowingly raised another man’s biological child.<\/p>\n
And I had lived forty years without knowing any of it.<\/p>\n
But none of that changed what my childhood had been.<\/p>\n
My father was still my father.<\/p>\n
James was still part of my story.<\/p>\n
And my mother had spent her life trying to make sure the truth never hurt me.<\/p>\n
Before I left Georgia, James gave me one final envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside was a letter from my mother.<\/p>\n
Apparently, she had written it years before she died.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily,<\/p>\n
If James ever contacts you, I have failed to keep my promise to myself.<\/p>\n
But perhaps that’s okay.<\/p>\n
You deserve the truth eventually.<\/p>\n
James is your biological father.<\/p>\n
Daniel is your father.<\/p>\n
Both things can be true.<\/p>\n
Do not let anyone convince you that loving one means betraying the other.<\/p>\n
I loved Daniel.<\/p>\n
I loved James once.<\/p>\n
And I loved you more than either of them.<\/p>\n
I chose the life we built.<\/p>\n
I don’t regret it.<\/p>\n
But I also never wanted James to believe that he meant nothing.<\/p>\n
That’s why I accepted the money.<\/p>\n
Not because I needed it.<\/p>\n
Because I wanted him to know he had helped you in the only way I would allow.<\/p>\n
Please forgive me for keeping this from you.<\/p>\n
But if you’re reading this now, you’re old enough to understand.<\/p>\n
Families aren’t always created by simple stories.<\/p>\n
Sometimes they are created by choices.<\/p>\n
Love is not always clean.<\/p>\n
But it can still be real.\u201d<\/p>\n
I folded the letter.<\/p>\n
Then I looked at James.<\/p>\n
\u201cI forgive her.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope you can forgive me too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know you well enough to forgive you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is fair.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I’d like to get to know you.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’d like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
And so we began.<\/p>\n
Slowly.<\/p>\n
Awkwardly.<\/p>\n
Carefully.<\/p>\n
There were phone calls.<\/p>\n
Then video calls.<\/p>\n
Then visits.<\/p>\n
James met my children.<\/p>\n
He showed them old photographs.<\/p>\n
He told them stories about their grandmother when she was seventeen.<\/p>\n
My children were fascinated.<\/p>\n
My oldest daughter asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes that make him your grandfather?\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt’s complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n
James smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cVery complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eventually, I told my siblings.<\/p>\n
The reaction was exactly what you might expect.<\/p>\n
Shock.<\/p>\n
Anger.<\/p>\n
Questions.<\/p>\n
One of my brothers accused our mother of betraying Dad.<\/p>\n
Another said it didn’t matter because Dad was still Dad.<\/p>\n
They argued.<\/p>\n
I didn’t.<\/p>\n
I understood something they were still trying to process.<\/p>\n
The truth doesn’t have to erase the past.<\/p>\n
It can simply add another layer to it.<\/p>\n
A year after meeting James, I returned to Georgia.<\/p>\n
He gave me something else.<\/p>\n
The original yearbook.<\/p>\n
I asked why.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause that was the beginning of the story.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held it carefully.<\/p>\n
The last page still contained the same message.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Margaret,<\/p>\n
I’ll find you again.<\/p>\n
I promise.<\/p>\n
\u2014James.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cForty years late.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBetter late than never.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed.<\/p>\n
We sat on his porch that evening.<\/p>\n
The sun was setting.<\/p>\n
I asked him one question.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you could go back to 1976, what would you do differently?\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn’t answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Finally, he said:<\/p>\n
\u201cI would stop being afraid of losing my father’s approval.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd if you could tell my mother one thing?\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes became wet.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’d tell her she was right about one thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe gave you the life you deserved.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept the yearbook.<\/p>\n
I kept the letters.<\/p>\n
I kept the photographs.<\/p>\n
And I kept the strange knowledge that, for nearly forty years, a retired judge had been quietly sending $750 every month to a P.O. box because my mother had asked him to.<\/p>\n
But the money wasn’t the real inheritance.<\/p>\n
Neither was the truth about my biological father.<\/p>\n
The real inheritance was understanding my mother as a woman rather than simply as my mother.<\/p>\n
She had been seventeen once.<\/p>\n
She had loved someone.<\/p>\n
She had made mistakes.<\/p>\n
She had chosen another life.<\/p>\n
And she had spent decades trying to protect the child born from the first one.<\/p>\n
I used to think my parents’ marriage was a simple love story.<\/p>\n
Now I know it wasn’t.<\/p>\n
It was a story about choices.<\/p>\n
About sacrifice.<\/p>\n
About secrets.<\/p>\n
About a man who gave up the right to be called \u201cDad\u201d but never stopped caring.<\/p>\n
And about another man who never knew that the daughter he raised wasn’t biologically his\u2014but loved her as though she were.<\/p>\n
Daniel never knew James existed.<\/p>\n
He never knew about the $750.<\/p>\n
He never knew that another man had been writing letters to his daughter for forty years.<\/p>\n
But he didn’t need to know.<\/p>\n
Because he had already given me something James never could.<\/p>\n
A childhood.<\/p>\n
A home.<\/p>\n
A father’s hand on my shoulder.<\/p>\n
And a lifetime of memories.<\/p>\n
James gave me blood.<\/p>\n
Daniel gave me fatherhood.<\/p>\n
My mother gave me both truths, even if she waited too long to tell me.<\/p>\n
Today, the yearbook sits on a shelf in my study.<\/p>\n
The final page is still open.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I read the message.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Margaret,<\/p>\n
I’ll find you again.<\/p>\n
I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
He did.<\/p>\n
Just not in the way either of them imagined.<\/p>\n
He found her daughter.<\/p>\n
And somehow, through me, a forty-year-old promise finally came true.<\/p>\n
The last time I spoke to James, he said something I’ll never forget.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know, Emily, I spent my whole life thinking the $750 was something I was giving you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was it?\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cA way of remembering you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him he was wrong.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe money wasn’t what you gave me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I touched the old yearbook.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou gave me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
And sometimes, the truth arrives decades late.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it changes everything you thought you knew.<\/p>\n
But sometimes it doesn’t destroy your family.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it simply shows you how many different kinds of love were quietly holding you together all along.<\/p>\n
Because a father isn’t always the man whose blood runs through your veins.<\/strong><\/p>\n Sometimes he’s the man who stays.<\/strong><\/p>\n And sometimes, somewhere in the shadows of your family’s history, there’s another person who loved you from a distance and spent a lifetime making sure you were okay.<\/p>\n I had spent forty years believing I knew exactly who my parents were.<\/p>\n Then I opened a locked drawer.<\/p>\n And discovered that my family had been carrying a secret for nearly half a century.<\/p>\n A secret worth $750 a month.<\/p>\n A secret written in hundreds of unsent letters.<\/p>\n A secret that began with two teenagers in 1976\u2014<\/p>\n and ended with an eighty-year-old man finally meeting the daughter he’d loved from afar.<\/p>\n Continue Reading…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" After my mother died, I found a high school yearbook hidden inside a locked drawer. It was from 1976. Her senior year. I wasn’t looking for anything unusual. I was … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":89581,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-89580","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\/89580","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=89580"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89580\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":89582,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/89580\/revisions\/89582"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/89581"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=89580"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=89580"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=89580"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}