My granddaughter was laughing so hard that I finally laughed too.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma, you can’t just type the person’s whole name into the comments.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn’t commenting,\u201d I protested.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was searching.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was somebody’s birthday post.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, how was I supposed to know?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head and took the mouse from me.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay. Let me show you.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was supposed to be a harmless afternoon.<\/p>\n
My granddaughter, Lily, had promised to teach me how to use Facebook properly.<\/p>\n
I’d had an account for years, but mostly I used it to look at photographs of family members and occasionally accidentally react to something from 2017.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, I wanted to find an old friend from work.<\/p>\n
Her name was Margaret.<\/p>\n
I hadn’t spoken to her in almost thirty years.<\/p>\n
Lily showed me how to search.<\/p>\n
I typed Margaret’s name.<\/p>\n
Hundreds of results appeared.<\/p>\n
I started scrolling.<\/p>\n
Then I saw something that made my hand stop.<\/p>\n
A photograph.<\/p>\n
A birthday party.<\/p>\n
Children were gathered around a cake.<\/p>\n
And standing behind them was my husband.<\/p>\n
Roscoe.<\/p>\n
I stared at the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn’t answer.<\/p>\n
Roscoe was smiling.<\/p>\n
Not the polite smile he used in family photographs.<\/p>\n
A real smile.<\/p>\n
The kind I’d seen when our children were young.<\/p>\n
The kind I hadn’t seen in years.<\/p>\n
Beside him stood a woman I’d never seen before.<\/p>\n
She had one hand resting on his shoulder.<\/p>\n
And on his other side stood a little boy.<\/p>\n
The boy had Roscoe’s grin.<\/p>\n
That unmistakable crooked smile.<\/p>\n
I leaned closer to the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Lily shrugged.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I clicked the photograph.<\/p>\n
It belonged to a woman named Natalie.<\/p>\n
The caption read:<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother wonderful birthday surrounded by the people who matter most.\u201d<\/p>\n
There were dozens of comments.<\/p>\n
Roscoe had commented:<\/p>\n
\u201cHappy birthday, champ. Proud of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart began beating faster.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lily looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
She did.<\/p>\n
I searched Natalie.<\/p>\n
More photographs appeared.<\/p>\n
Christmas.<\/p>\n
Thanksgiving.<\/p>\n
A school graduation.<\/p>\n
A summer barbecue.<\/p>\n
And Roscoe was in nearly every one.<\/p>\n
Sometimes he stood beside Natalie.<\/p>\n
Sometimes he had his arm around the children.<\/p>\n
Sometimes he was holding one of them.<\/p>\n
I counted.<\/p>\n
Two children.<\/p>\n
A boy and a girl.<\/p>\n
The boy looked about sixteen.<\/p>\n
The girl maybe thirteen.<\/p>\n
Both had Roscoe’s smile.<\/p>\n
I felt cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe it’s his friend’s family,\u201d Lily said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said it too quickly.<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
But something inside me already knew.<\/p>\n
I opened another photograph.<\/p>\n
Christmas morning.<\/p>\n
Roscoe was sitting on a couch.<\/p>\n
The children were beside him.<\/p>\n
Natalie was behind them.<\/p>\n
The caption said:<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother Christmas with Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dad.<\/p>\n
I stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
Lily looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCall your mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cActually\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn’t want my children involved yet.<\/p>\n
I needed to know what I was looking at.<\/p>\n
I closed Facebook.<\/p>\n
Then I opened our bank account.<\/p>\n
I’d been managing our finances for forty-two years.<\/p>\n
I knew every regular payment.<\/p>\n
Mortgage.<\/p>\n
Utilities.<\/p>\n
Insurance.<\/p>\n
Groceries.<\/p>\n
Property taxes.<\/p>\n
Everything.<\/p>\n
Except one.<\/p>\n
$2,100.<\/p>\n
Every month.<\/p>\n
For years.<\/p>\n
I stared at the transaction history.<\/p>\n
The payment went to an account I didn’t recognize.<\/p>\n
The description was always vague.<\/p>\n
\u201cFamily Support.\u201d<\/p>\n
I searched back.<\/p>\n
One month.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
It had been happening for eleven years.<\/p>\n
$2,100 every month.<\/p>\n
Twenty-five thousand dollars a year.<\/p>\n
Over eleven years, more than $275,000.<\/p>\n
My hands started shaking.<\/p>\n
I printed the statements.<\/p>\n
Then I sat at the kitchen table until the sun went down.<\/p>\n
When Roscoe came home, he kissed my forehead.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow was your afternoon?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou seem tired.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am.\u201d<\/p>\n
He went to change.<\/p>\n
I watched him walk away.<\/p>\n
For forty-two years, I’d believed I knew my husband.<\/p>\n
I knew his favorite breakfast.<\/p>\n
I knew he hated cilantro.<\/p>\n
I knew he couldn’t sleep without the bedroom window cracked open.<\/p>\n
I knew how he took his coffee.<\/p>\n
I knew which knee hurt when it rained.<\/p>\n
I knew what he wanted to be buried wearing.<\/p>\n
But apparently, there was an entire life I didn’t know existed.<\/p>\n
I didn’t confront him that night.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I searched Facebook again.<\/p>\n
This time, I looked at Natalie carefully.<\/p>\n
And then I recognized her.<\/p>\n
I had seen that face before.<\/p>\n
Thirty years earlier.<\/p>\n
At Roscoe’s office Christmas party.<\/p>\n
She had been there.<\/p>\n
Not as a guest.<\/p>\n
As an employee.<\/p>\n
My memory suddenly brought back a conversation I’d almost forgotten.<\/p>\n
Roscoe had introduced her as Natalie Harper.<\/p>\n
She had been his assistant.<\/p>\n
I remembered her because she had a newborn baby at the time.<\/p>\n
I’d even held the baby.<\/p>\n
I remembered telling her,<\/p>\n
\u201cEnjoy every minute. They grow up too quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n
She had smiled.<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I searched her name again.<\/p>\n
Natalie Harper.<\/p>\n
Then I found an old newspaper article.<\/p>\n
The photograph was different.<\/p>\n
But the name was the same.<\/p>\n
Natalie Harper had left the company in 2010.<\/p>\n
She had moved to another state.<\/p>\n
She had two children.<\/p>\n
Her husband wasn’t mentioned.<\/p>\n
I kept digging.<\/p>\n
Eventually, I found something that made my stomach turn.<\/p>\n
A public court record.<\/p>\n
Natalie had filed for divorce years earlier.<\/p>\n
And Roscoe’s name appeared in an old financial document connected to her.<\/p>\n
I printed that too.<\/p>\n
Then I waited for Roscoe to come home.<\/p>\n
He walked through the door at 6:12.<\/p>\n
He saw the papers on the kitchen table.<\/p>\n
His face changed instantly.<\/p>\n
He didn’t ask what they were.<\/p>\n
That told me everything.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are they?\u201d<\/p>\n
He sat down.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe children.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes closed.<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me crack.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I’m talking about.\u201d<\/p>\n
He whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
Finally, he said,<\/p>\n
\u201cTheir names are Evan and Sophie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre they yours?\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cRoscoe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room became completely still.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvan is sixteen.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd Sophie?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThirteen.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t a happy laugh.<\/p>\n
It was the kind of laugh that comes when something is too painful for your brain to process normally.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have two children.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOutside our marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor sixteen years?\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
I pushed the bank statements toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you’ve been sending them $2,100 every month.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEleven years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat I’d lose you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn’t lose me because you had children.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes lifted.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou lost me because you lied to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He started crying.<\/p>\n
I’d never seen Roscoe cry like that.<\/p>\n
Not when his father died.<\/p>\n
Not when our son moved overseas.<\/p>\n
Not even at our daughter’s wedding.<\/p>\n
But I didn’t comfort him.<\/p>\n
Not yet.<\/p>\n
I needed the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll these years,\u201d I said, \u201cwhat did you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat Natalie was someone from work.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn’t tell you she was pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore our youngest was born.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat down slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you stayed with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhile she was raising your children?\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
I felt sick.<\/p>\n
\u201cWere you still seeing her?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon’t lie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn’t having an affair with her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen how were these children born?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked down.<\/p>\n
The answer was obvious.<\/p>\n
He finally said,<\/p>\n
\u201cNatalie and I were together before you and I got married.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
He swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe broke up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThree months before our wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n
I remembered our wedding.<\/p>\n
Forty-two years ago.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, old details began rearranging themselves in my mind.<\/p>\n
The late-night phone calls.<\/p>\n
The unexplained trip.<\/p>\n
The week he had been distant.<\/p>\n
The argument with his mother.<\/p>\n
I had thought it was ordinary premarital stress.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Natalie told me she was pregnant after we broke up.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew Evan was yours?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suspected.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd Sophie?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was born years later.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
Roscoe whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn’t know for certain until a DNA test.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEleven years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
That explained the $2,100.<\/p>\n
He had discovered he was the biological father.<\/p>\n
And instead of telling his wife of thirty-one years, he had quietly created another family.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid Natalie ask you for money?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why $2,100?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted to help.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wanted to help your children.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had a responsibility to them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou also had a responsibility to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think this is about money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt isn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pointed toward the Facebook photographs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI could have understood you having children before me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI could have understood you wanting to support them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Still nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat I cannot understand is why you let me spend forty-two years believing I was the only person you had built a life with.\u201d<\/p>\n
He began crying again.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should have trusted me enough to let me decide whether I could live with the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the sentence that finally silenced him.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I called Natalie.<\/p>\n
She answered cautiously.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Roscoe’s wife.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then she whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cI wondered when you’d find out.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSince before Sophie was born.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt dizzy.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid Roscoe ever tell you he planned to leave me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he promise you anything?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why did you keep his secret?\u201d<\/p>\n
She was quiet.<\/p>\n
Finally, she said,<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause the children loved him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood that.<\/p>\n
But understanding didn’t make it hurt less.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish he’d told me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo do I.\u201d<\/p>\n
That surprised me.<\/p>\n
Natalie continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was a good father to them in the ways he could be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the ways he could be?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came to birthdays. School events. Christmas. He paid what he promised. He never missed an important day.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
My husband had been living two lives.<\/p>\n
And somehow, both were real.<\/p>\n
I asked to meet her.<\/p>\n
We arranged it for the following week.<\/p>\n
When I arrived, Natalie looked older than the woman I remembered.<\/p>\n
She stood up.<\/p>\n
Neither of us knew what to say.<\/p>\n
Then she whispered,<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know whether you owe me an apology.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cI should have told you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo was he.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I saw them.<\/p>\n
Evan and Sophie.<\/p>\n
They came through the doorway laughing.<\/p>\n
Evan had Roscoe’s smile.<\/p>\n
Sophie had his eyes.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n
They knew who I was.<\/p>\n
Natalie had told them.<\/p>\n
Sophie approached first.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don’t have to be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe didn’t know about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Evan looked uncomfortable.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad loves you.\u201d<\/p>\n
That hurt more than anything.<\/p>\n
Because I knew it was true.<\/p>\n
And I hated that I couldn’t be angry at the children for loving their father.<\/p>\n
I sat with them for almost two hours.<\/p>\n
They told me about school.<\/p>\n
Their hobbies.<\/p>\n
Their favorite foods.<\/p>\n
Sophie showed me pictures.<\/p>\n
Evan talked about college.<\/p>\n
They were good kids.<\/p>\n
Completely innocent.<\/p>\n
When I left, I cried in the car.<\/p>\n
Not because I hated them.<\/p>\n
Because I didn’t.<\/p>\n
That was the hardest part.<\/p>\n
Over the next few months, I made decisions carefully.<\/p>\n
I didn’t immediately divorce Roscoe.<\/p>\n
I didn’t immediately forgive him either.<\/p>\n
We separated for a while.<\/p>\n
He moved into a small apartment.<\/p>\n
I stayed in our house.<\/p>\n
We divided the finances properly.<\/p>\n
He continued supporting his children.<\/p>\n
This time, everything was transparent.<\/p>\n
Eventually, I met Evan and Sophie again.<\/p>\n
Then again.<\/p>\n
They started calling me Mrs. Ellis.<\/p>\n
One day Sophie asked,<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I call you Grandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t answer.<\/p>\n
I hugged her instead.<\/p>\n
Roscoe watched from across the room.<\/p>\n
He was crying.<\/p>\n
I was too.<\/p>\n
Our marriage never returned to what it had been.<\/p>\n
It became something else.<\/p>\n
Something more honest.<\/p>\n
After forty-two years, honesty was painful.<\/p>\n
But strangely, it was also freeing.<\/p>\n
Roscoe eventually asked me,<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you think you’ll ever forgive me?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I want to try.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen start with the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
And he did.<\/p>\n
Every account.<\/p>\n
Every message.<\/p>\n
Every secret.<\/p>\n
Nothing was hidden anymore.<\/p>\n
We eventually decided not to remarry after our separation.<\/p>\n
But we remained part of each other’s lives.<\/p>\n
And I became part of Evan and Sophie’s lives too.<\/p>\n
Not as their mother’s replacement.<\/p>\n
Not as someone pretending the past didn’t happen.<\/p>\n
Just as someone who cared about them.<\/p>\n
Years later, Lily sat beside me again.<\/p>\n
She was older now.<\/p>\n
She smiled when I told her what Facebook had accidentally revealed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou really found all that because I taught you how to search?\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew Facebook would get you into trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt also helped me find two people I never knew I had.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you regret looking?\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about Roscoe.<\/p>\n
Natalie.<\/p>\n
Evan.<\/p>\n
Sophie.<\/p>\n
Forty-two years of marriage.<\/p>\n
Eleven years of secret payments.<\/p>\n
Thousands of photographs I had never seen.<\/p>\n
Then I shook my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause the truth hurt.\u201d<\/p>\n
I paused.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut living inside a lie would have hurt more.\u201d<\/p>\n
And that was the strange lesson of the life my husband had hidden from me for decades.<\/p>\n
Sometimes the truth doesn’t destroy a family.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it reveals that the family was much larger than you ever knew.<\/p>\n
But secrets have a price.<\/p>\n
And after forty-two years, Roscoe finally had to pay his.<\/p>\n
Not with money.<\/p>\n
Not with the house.<\/p>\n
Not with divorce papers.<\/p>\n
With the one thing he’d been avoiding all those years.<\/p>\n
The truth.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My granddaughter was laughing so hard that I finally laughed too. \u201cGrandma, you can’t just type the person’s whole name into the comments.\u201d \u201cI wasn’t commenting,\u201d I protested. \u201cYou were.\u201d … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":99931,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-99930","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\/99930","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=99930"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99930\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":99932,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99930\/revisions\/99932"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/99931"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=99930"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=99930"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/discoverstory9.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=99930"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}