My husband died after twenty-nine years of marriage.<\/p>\n
At his funeral, while I stood beside his coffin accepting condolences from people who had known him for decades, a woman I had never seen before walked slowly toward the casket.<\/p>\n
She was probably in her late forties.<\/p>\n
She wore a simple black dress and carried a single white rose.<\/p>\n
Nobody stopped her.<\/p>\n
She placed the rose gently on my husband’s coffin.<\/p>\n
Then she leaned forward and whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ll take care of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
I grabbed her arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake care of who?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
For one second, I saw something in her eyes that looked almost like pity.<\/p>\n
Then she pulled away.<\/p>\n
She didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n
She walked away.<\/p>\n
I stood there frozen.<\/p>\n
My husband’s brother approached me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked toward the woman.<\/p>\n
\u201cNeither do I.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watched her disappear through the cemetery gates.<\/p>\n
That night, I couldn’t sleep.<\/p>\n
I kept thinking about the white rose.<\/p>\n
And those four words.<\/p>\n
I’ll take care of them.<\/strong><\/p>\n Who was \u201cthem\u201d?<\/p>\n Why had she come to my husband’s funeral?<\/p>\n And why had she spoken as though she knew something I didn’t?<\/p>\n Around midnight, I went into the garage.<\/p>\n My husband had always kept his tools in an old metal cabinet.<\/p>\n After his death, I had been sorting through his belongings.<\/p>\n I wasn’t looking for anything in particular.<\/p>\n I opened his toolbox.<\/p>\n Under a roll of electrical tape, I found a phone.<\/p>\n It wasn’t his regular phone.<\/p>\n It was older.<\/p>\n Cheap.<\/p>\n With a cracked screen.<\/p>\n I almost put it back.<\/p>\n Then I saw the lock screen.<\/p>\n There was a photograph.<\/p>\n My husband.<\/p>\n Standing beside three children.<\/p>\n None of them were mine.<\/p>\n My hands went cold.<\/p>\n I unlocked the phone.<\/p>\n There were hundreds of messages.<\/p>\n Years of them.<\/p>\n I started scrolling.<\/p>\n Goodnight, Dad.<\/strong><\/p>\n Are you coming this weekend?<\/strong><\/p>\n Mom says you promised.<\/strong><\/p>\n We miss you.<\/strong><\/p>\n Love you, Dad.<\/strong><\/p>\n I dropped onto the garage floor.<\/p>\n Dad.<\/p>\n My husband had children.<\/p>\n Three of them.<\/p>\n Children I had never known existed.<\/p>\n I kept scrolling.<\/p>\n There were photographs.<\/p>\n Birthdays.<\/p>\n Christmas mornings.<\/p>\n School graduations.<\/p>\n Family dinners.<\/p>\n Trips.<\/p>\n My husband was in all of them.<\/p>\n He wasn’t an occasional visitor.<\/p>\n He had another family.<\/p>\n And then I found the woman’s name.<\/p>\n Laura.<\/strong><\/p>\n I opened her messages.<\/p>\n There were years of conversations.<\/p>\n Some were ordinary.<\/p>\n Some were intimate.<\/p>\n Some made my stomach turn.<\/p>\n Then I saw something that shattered me.<\/p>\n A message dated twenty-eight years earlier.<\/p>\n Laura: I think I’m pregnant.<\/strong><\/p>\n My husband replied:<\/p>\n We’ll figure it out. Don’t tell anyone yet.<\/strong><\/p>\n Twenty-nine years.<\/p>\n The same year I married him.<\/p>\n I kept scrolling.<\/p>\n Another message.<\/p>\n We need to be careful. She can’t know.<\/strong><\/p>\n Then:<\/p>\n I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.<\/strong><\/p>\n My hands began shaking.<\/p>\n There was an address.<\/p>\n Oregon.<\/p>\n I searched the property records saved in the phone.<\/p>\n A house.<\/p>\n Worth nearly $940,000.<\/p>\n The deed listed two names.<\/p>\n Laura Bennett.<\/p>\n And my husband.<\/p>\n I stared at the screen.<\/p>\n My husband had owned another house.<\/p>\n With another woman.<\/p>\n For decades.<\/p>\n Then I saw a calendar entry.<\/p>\n Anniversary \u2014 Oregon \u2014 June 14.<\/strong><\/p>\n Our anniversary was June 14.<\/p>\n I felt sick.<\/p>\n I opened the travel records.<\/p>\n There it was.<\/p>\n A hotel reservation.<\/p>\n Oregon.<\/p>\n Twenty-eight years ago.<\/p>\n Two guests.<\/p>\n My husband.<\/p>\n And Laura.<\/p>\n I remembered that trip.<\/p>\n Our first wedding anniversary.<\/p>\n He had told me his company needed him to attend a conference.<\/p>\n I had stayed home because I was pregnant with our first child.<\/p>\n Or so I thought.<\/p>\n I sat on the garage floor until morning.<\/p>\n At 7:12 a.m., I called Laura.<\/p>\n She answered on the first ring.<\/p>\n \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n She knew immediately.<\/p>\n \u201cYou found the phone.\u201d<\/p>\n My blood went cold.<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n She exhaled.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m Laura.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe woman at the funeral?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy were you there?\u201d<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n Then she said,<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your husband asked me to promise something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat if he died before me, I’d take care of the children.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat children?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOur children.\u201d<\/p>\n I nearly dropped the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cOur?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe’s their father.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll three?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n My voice shook.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwenty-nine years.\u201d<\/p>\n The number hit me.<\/p>\n The entire length of my marriage.<\/p>\n Then I asked the question I had been afraid to ask.<\/p>\n \u201cWho was conceived during our anniversary trip?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura went silent.<\/p>\n Then she whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cMy oldest.\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n \u201cYour oldest is how old?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTwenty-eight.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat down.<\/p>\n \u201cHis name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEvan.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew that name.<\/p>\n I’d seen it in the phone.<\/p>\n But I didn’t know him.<\/p>\n I had never met him.<\/p>\n I had never even heard my husband mention him.<\/p>\n \u201cWas he conceived during our anniversary?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n My husband had taken a trip with me in his heart while he was secretly creating another family.<\/p>\n Or perhaps worse.<\/p>\n He had used our anniversary as an excuse to see Laura.<\/p>\n I asked,<\/p>\n \u201cDid he know about me?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura hesitated.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy husband told him.\u201d<\/p>\n I froze.<\/p>\n \u201cYour husband?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura’s voice softened.<\/p>\n \u201cYour husband didn’t tell Evan everything until he was older.\u201d<\/p>\n I was confused.<\/p>\n \u201cThen why did you say your husband?\u201d<\/p>\n She didn’t answer.<\/p>\n I suddenly realized something.<\/p>\n \u201cWait.\u201d<\/p>\n I remembered the photographs.<\/p>\n Laura had another man beside her in some of them.<\/p>\n A man I had assumed was a relative.<\/p>\n \u201cWho is he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy husband.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt dizzy.<\/p>\n \u201cYou’re married?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo my husband wasn’t your husband.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why was he on the deed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause he helped me buy the house.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at the ceiling.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the messages?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cHe was Evan’s biological father.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn’t understand.<\/p>\n \u201cYou’re married to another man.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you had three children with my husband?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n I stopped.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura’s voice became very quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cOnly Evan was your husband’s child.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart pounded.<\/p>\n \u201cThen whose are the other two?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy husband\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n Three children.<\/p>\n One biological child.<\/p>\n Two children raised in a household where my husband had played a role.<\/p>\n But why?<\/p>\n Why had he paid for their house?<\/p>\n Why had he maintained another phone?<\/p>\n Why had he been so involved?<\/p>\n Laura finally explained.<\/p>\n Her husband, Peter, had known about the affair.<\/p>\n He had discovered it before their marriage.<\/p>\n Laura had been pregnant with Evan.<\/p>\n Peter chose to stay.<\/p>\n He raised Evan as his own.<\/p>\n Later, Laura and Peter had two more children.<\/p>\n But my husband never stopped supporting Evan.<\/p>\n He paid for his education.<\/p>\n Helped buy the house.<\/p>\n Visited him.<\/p>\n And over time, he became close to all three children.<\/p>\n Not because they were all his.<\/p>\n Because he loved them.<\/p>\n I was still trying to process it.<\/p>\n \u201cSo why did you say you’d take care of them?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura paused.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your husband asked me to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was sick.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at the wall.<\/p>\n He had been sick for nearly a year.<\/p>\n He had told me it was exhaustion.<\/p>\n Stress.<\/p>\n Age.<\/p>\n He had refused further testing.<\/p>\n I had believed him.<\/p>\n Laura continued.<\/p>\n \u201cHe knew he didn’t have much time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he know you were coming to the funeral?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he tell you to come?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe asked me not to.\u201d<\/p>\n I frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cThen why did you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I couldn’t let him be buried without saying goodbye.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn’t know what to say.<\/p>\n Then Laura said,<\/p>\n \u201cThere is something else you need to know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour husband never stopped loving you.\u201d<\/p>\n I almost laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cHe had another woman.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe had a child with you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe owned a house with you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can you tell me he loved me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause he regretted what he did.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cRegret doesn’t erase twenty-nine years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n Her voice broke.<\/p>\n \u201cBut he spent the last years trying to make things right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe created a trust.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor whom?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor you.\u201d<\/p>\n I stopped breathing.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe told me you would never accept money from him if you knew where it came from.\u201d<\/p>\n I almost laughed again.<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds like him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe left you the majority of his estate.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn’t understand.<\/p>\n \u201cBut the house?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Oregon house?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYours too.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat upright.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe transferred his share to you six months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n I remembered the paperwork.<\/p>\n Six months earlier, my husband had asked me to sign several documents.<\/p>\n He said they were estate-planning documents.<\/p>\n I had signed them without reading carefully.<\/p>\n I had trusted him.<\/p>\n Laura continued.<\/p>\n \u201cHe knew you deserved to know the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why didn’t he tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n She was silent.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause he was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was afraid you’d look at the last twenty-nine years and believe they were all a lie.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt tears running down my face.<\/p>\n \u201cWere they?\u201d<\/p>\n Laura answered immediately.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I lived the other side of his life.\u201d<\/p>\n I listened.<\/p>\n \u201cHe talked about you constantly.\u201d<\/p>\n My throat tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cHe loved your children.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe loved you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe told me many times that marrying you was the best decision he ever made.\u201d<\/p>\n I wiped my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn’t make what he did okay.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen don’t ask me to forgive him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI won’t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t know if I ever can.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don’t have to.\u201d<\/p>\n There was something strangely comforting about that.<\/p>\n Nobody was asking me to become the forgiving widow.<\/p>\n Nobody was asking me to pretend.<\/p>\n I needed the truth.<\/p>\n Nothing more.<\/p>\n Before we hung up, Laura said,<\/p>\n \u201cEvan wants to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart stopped.<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t know if I can.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe understands.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the photograph of my husband holding him.<\/p>\n \u201cTell him I’ll meet him.\u201d<\/p>\n Two days later, I met Evan.<\/p>\n He was twenty-eight.<\/p>\n He looked so much like my husband that I couldn’t speak for several seconds.<\/p>\n He stood awkwardly outside a coffee shop.<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t know what to call you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cNeither do I.\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled sadly.<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s fair.\u201d<\/p>\n We sat down.<\/p>\n He told me about my husband.<\/p>\n Not the husband I knew.<\/p>\n The other version.<\/p>\n The man who had taught him to ride a bicycle.<\/p>\n The man who attended his graduation.<\/p>\n The man who called him every Sunday.<\/p>\n The man who had told him about me.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n Evan smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cHe said you were the strongest woman he’d ever met.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked away.<\/p>\n \u201cHe shouldn’t have lied to me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you hate him?\u201d<\/p>\n Evan thought for a moment.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause he made a terrible choice before I was born.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cBut he never abandoned me.\u201d<\/p>\n That sentence stayed with me.<\/p>\n Neither of us was responsible for what my husband had done.<\/p>\n And neither of us deserved to lose the relationship we might have had because of his secrets.<\/p>\n Over the following year, I learned more.<\/p>\n My husband had indeed betrayed me.<\/p>\n There was no excuse for that.<\/p>\n He had lied.<\/p>\n He had hidden a child.<\/p>\n He had maintained a secret property.<\/p>\n He had kept another life separate from mine.<\/p>\n But he had also tried, in his own flawed way, to take responsibility for the damage.<\/p>\n He had placed the Oregon house into my name.<\/p>\n He had created a trust for me.<\/p>\n He had left financial support for Evan.<\/p>\n And in his final letter to me, he wrote something that took me months to understand.<\/p>\n \u201cI know there is no explanation that will make what I did right.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cI know you may hate me after you learn everything.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cBut please don’t let my worst decision erase every good day we had.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cI loved you.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n \u201cI was just not brave enough to be honest.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n That was the truth.<\/p>\n And perhaps the hardest truth of all.<\/p>\n A person can love you and still hurt you.<\/p>\n A marriage can contain beautiful memories and terrible secrets at the same time.<\/p>\n Love doesn’t make betrayal disappear.<\/p>\n And betrayal doesn’t necessarily mean every moment of love was fake.<\/p>\n I never remarried.<\/p>\n I kept our house.<\/p>\n I eventually sold the Oregon property and placed the proceeds into a trust for Evan and the other children.<\/p>\n Not because I owed them.<\/p>\n Because they were innocent.<\/p>\n They had lost their father too.<\/p>\n And I couldn’t punish them for the choices he made.<\/p>\n Evan and I remained in contact.<\/p>\n Not as instant family.<\/p>\n Not as some perfect movie ending.<\/p>\n Slowly.<\/p>\n Carefully.<\/p>\n We shared stories.<\/p>\n Photographs.<\/p>\n Memories.<\/p>\n Sometimes we talked about my husband.<\/p>\n Sometimes we didn’t.<\/p>\n And every year on the anniversary of his death, I placed two flowers at his grave.<\/p>\n One red.<\/p>\n One white.<\/p>\n The red was for the life we built together.<\/p>\n The white was for the truth I didn’t know existed.<\/p>\n The woman who had placed the white rose at his coffin never became my enemy.<\/p>\n She couldn’t.<\/p>\n She had been living with the same secret I had.<\/p>\n She simply carried a different part of it.<\/p>\n And the children weren’t my husband’s betrayal.<\/p>\n They were his responsibility.<\/p>\n There was one thing I never told anyone.<\/p>\n The night I discovered the second phone, I almost threw it away.<\/p>\n I almost told myself it was none of my business.<\/p>\n I almost closed the toolbox and went upstairs.<\/p>\n If I had, I might never have known the truth.<\/p>\n I might have spent the rest of my life believing my husband’s last twenty-nine years were exactly what I thought they were.<\/p>\n Instead, I learned something painful.<\/p>\n Sometimes the person you love most can leave behind a truth that destroys the life you understood.<\/p>\n But destruction isn’t always the end.<\/p>\n Sometimes, after the lies fall apart, you finally get the chance to build something honest.<\/p>\n Not the marriage.<\/p>\n That was gone.<\/p>\n Not the past.<\/p>\n That couldn’t be changed.<\/p>\n But the future.<\/p>\n One afternoon, Evan asked me,<\/p>\n \u201cDo you regret meeting me?\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven after everything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEspecially after everything.\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled.<\/p>\n Then he handed me a small box.<\/p>\n Inside was the white rose from the funeral.<\/p>\n Pressed and preserved.<\/p>\n \u201cYou kept it?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cMy dad asked me to give it to you.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n \u201cHe planned this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think he hoped we’d eventually meet.\u201d<\/p>\n I held the rose carefully.<\/p>\n For twenty-nine years, I had believed I knew my husband completely.<\/p>\n I didn’t.<\/p>\n But I also refused to let his secrets erase the life we had shared.<\/p>\n He had betrayed me.<\/p>\n He had lied to me.<\/p>\n He had broken something that could never be repaired.<\/p>\n But he had also loved me in ways that had been real.<\/p>\n Both things could be true.<\/p>\n And perhaps that’s what made the truth so difficult.<\/p>\n It wasn’t black and white.<\/p>\n It was a lifetime of gray.<\/p>\n I still miss him.<\/p>\n I still get angry.<\/p>\n Some days I forgive him.<\/p>\n Other days I don’t.<\/p>\n But I no longer ask myself whether the last twenty-nine years were a lie.<\/p>\n They weren’t.<\/p>\n They were twenty-nine years of a complicated, imperfect, deeply human life.<\/p>\n And when I finally placed the preserved white rose beside his photograph, I whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cI wish you had told me.\u201d<\/p>\n Then I paused.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I’m glad I know now.\u201d<\/p>\n Because the truth broke my heart.<\/p>\n But it also introduced me to a son I never knew I had lost.<\/p>\n And sometimes, the most painful secret isn’t the one that destroys your family.<\/p>\n It’s the one that reveals how much family was there all along.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My husband died after twenty-nine years of marriage. At his funeral, while I stood beside his coffin accepting condolences from people who had known him for decades, a woman I … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":95518,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-95517","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\/95517","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=95517"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95517\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":95522,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/95517\/revisions\/95522"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/95518"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=95517"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=95517"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=95517"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}