{"id":1719,"date":"2026-05-05T20:12:38","date_gmt":"2026-05-05T20:12:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/?p=1719"},"modified":"2026-05-05T20:12:38","modified_gmt":"2026-05-05T20:12:38","slug":"i-became-pregnant-by-a-married-man-and-my-baby-was-born-with-down-syndrome-when-i-wrote-to-his-wife-i-braced-for-her-to-tear-my-life-apart-but-she-arrived-instead-with-a-truth-that-left-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/?p=1719","title":{"rendered":"I became pregnant by a married man, and my baby was born with Down syndrome. When I wrote to his wife, I braced for her to tear my life apart\u2026 but she arrived instead with a truth that left me completely breathless."},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cHe knew about your baby long before\u2026 and there\u2019s something even worse that I haven\u2019t told you yet.\u201dThe folder felt as heavy as if it were filled with stones. Matthew slept in Claire\u2019s arms, peaceful and oblivious to the bombshell that had just dropped on us. I felt my legs go numb. \u2014\u201cWhat do you mean he knew beforehand?\u201d<\/span>Claire pulled out another sheet. It wasn\u2019t a receipt. It was a printout of messages\u2014messages between Mark and a woman named Patricia.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve confirmed Sarah is still pregnant.\u201d
\n\u201cThe doctor says the baby will have issues.\u201d
\n\u201cIf he\u2019s born, everything is going to get complicated for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pressed my hand to my chest. I couldn\u2019t breathe. Not because Mark was a coward\u2014I already knew that\u2014but because that cowardice had deeper, darker, more calculated roots. \u2014\u201cWho is Patricia?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Claire clenched her jaw.
\n\u2014\u201cHis sister. She works in administration at a clinic. Not yours, but she knew someone who did. Mark used her to spy on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the papers. My address. My schedule. My OB-GYN\u2019s name. Ultrasound dates. There was even a photo of me with my shirt pulled up, leaving an appointment, looking tired, my belly barely showing. I felt a wave of nausea. A cold, deep disgust that you can\u2019t wash off.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cHe was watching me.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Claire nodded.
\n\u2014\u201cAnd not just that.\u201d She pulled out one more page. It was a rejected wire transfer. One thousand dollars. Memo: \u201cMedical support for Sarah.\u201d The bank account was correct. My name was correct. But the money never arrived.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI don\u2019t understand this,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI do,\u201d Claire replied. \u201cMark acted like he sent you money. He kept the fake confirmation to cover himself in case you ever accused him of abandonment. Then he canceled the transaction.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood frozen. I remembered every night I counted pennies to afford diapers. I remembered selling my old laptop to pay for Matthew\u2019s heart screening. I remembered Lucy bringing me soup because I didn\u2019t have the strength or the money to cook. And all the while, he was building fake evidence. Not to help\u2014but to defend himself.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cBut you said there was something worse,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Claire looked down. That\u2019s when I knew the worst was still walking toward me.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSarah, Mark knew Matthew might be born with Down syndrome before you ever wrote to me.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cI already knew that from my messages.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cNo. He knew before you knew.\u201d<\/p>\n

My body went rigid. I stared at her without blinking.
\n\u2014\u201cThat can\u2019t be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI found payments to a lab. Private tests. Consultations with a geneticist. They weren\u2019t in your name. They were in his.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire swallowed hard.
\n\u2014\u201cThrough Patricia. She got preliminary results before your doctor even called to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I felt my throat tighten. The doctor had taken my hand at twenty weeks. She spoke to me with care. She explained the probabilities, the studies, the care required. I thought that day the world had changed for everyone. But Mark already knew. He had already had time to decide. And he decided to vanish.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cHe left me alone because he knew my son wasn\u2019t \u2018perfect\u2019 enough for his lie,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Claire closed her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek.
\n\u2014\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

The apartment went silent. The only sound was Matthew\u2019s tiny breathing, that soft noise that always calmed me. But that morning, it broke me. I walked over to my baby and touched his little hand. He opened his fingers slightly and gripped mine. Just like the first time. As if he were telling me once again not to let go.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI thought he abandoned me out of fear,\u201d I said. \u201cBecause he was a coward. Because he was married. Because he was a jerk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire looked at me.
\n\u2014\u201cHe was all those things. But he\u2019s also cruel.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I covered my mouth with my hand. I wanted to cry, but I couldn\u2019t. The rage was too big to come out in tears.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cDo your kids know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire shook her head.
\n\u2014\u201cNot yet. They\u2019re eight and six. I told them their dad is away for a few days for \u2018grown-up problems.\u2019\u201d Her voice cracked. \u201cI don\u2019t know how to explain that the man who read them bedtime stories could abandon a baby just because he was born different.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Matthew. Different. That word had hurt so much at first. People said it with pity. \u201cHe\u2019s coming out different.\u201d \u201cHe\u2019ll be different.\u201d \u201cYour life will be different.\u201d As if different meant less.<\/p>\n

But Matthew wasn\u2019t less. He was more work, yes. More appointments. More fear. More bills. But he was also more tenderness than I knew how to carry. More strength than his tiny body should hold. More truth than all of Mark\u2019s expensive suits.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cWhy did you come here, Claire?\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

She took a deep breath.
\n\u2014\u201cBecause last night, when I saw the photo of Matthew, I understood something.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cThat Mark didn\u2019t deceive us with love. He deceived us with power.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stood up with the baby still in her arms and walked slowly through my living room.
\n\u2014\u201cHe hid you because he knew you were alone. He kept me quiet because he knew I trusted him. He gave our children a house made of lies. And he tried to erase Matthew because it wasn\u2019t convenient for him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt like every sentence was putting the disaster into perspective. It didn\u2019t make it less painful, but at least it had a shape.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSo, what do we do?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Claire held my gaze.
\n\u2014\u201cWe remove him from the center of it.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cWe stop fighting for his crumbs. We stop asking him to be good. We stop waiting for him to confess out of shame. We do everything legally, everything documented, everything clear. Child support, legal recognition, DNA tests, and a report for the unauthorized use of your medical data. And then, you decide how far you want to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

I stared at this woman. The wife. The one I imagined would smash my face in at the door. And there she was, holding my son as if the pain hadn\u2019t stripped her of her decency.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cDoesn\u2019t it hurt to help me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire let out a sad laugh.
\n\u2014\u201cEverything hurts, Sarah. Helping you is the only thing I\u2019m not ashamed of.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sentence broke me. I sat on the edge of the sofa and cried. I cried for myself. For her. For Matthew. For her children. For the women who end up pitted against each other because of a man who washes his hands of his mess.<\/p>\n

Claire let me cry. She didn\u2019t hug me immediately. Maybe she knew that sometimes you need to fall without anyone touching you. Then she sat next to me. She put Matthew back in my arms.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cLook at him,\u201d she said. \u201cThis child isn\u2019t a mistake. The mistake was his father.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pressed my son against my chest. His scent of milk brought me back to the world.
\n\u2014\u201cHis name is Matthew,\u201d I told her.
\n\u2014\u201cI know. I read it in your message.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cIt means \u2018Gift of God,\u2019 I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Claire managed a small smile.
\n\u2014\u201cThen Mark didn\u2019t understand anything. Cowards never know what to do with a gift.\u201d<\/p>\n

That same day, we made a list. Not a romantic or dramatic list. A war list. Birth certificate. Paternity test. Family lawyer. Screenshots of messages. Medical receipts. Expense logs. Information on early intervention. Appointments with cardiology, physical therapy, and pediatrics.<\/p>\n

Claire called her cousin from my kitchen. I heard her firm voice while I warmed water for the bottle.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cNo, Jason, I don\u2019t want you to look out for him. I want you to protect the baby. And Sarah. And my children too.\u201d There was a pause. \u201cYes, I know he\u2019s my husband. That\u2019s exactly why I\u2019m not going to let him keep acting like we\u2019re all just furniture in his house.\u201d<\/p>\n

When she hung up, she looked at me.
\n\u2014\u201cWe\u2019re going to the office tomorrow.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cWe?\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cYes. If you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated. I felt ashamed to sit next to her in front of a lawyer. I was ashamed they would see me as \u201cthe other woman.\u201d But Claire seemed to read my mind.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSarah, you aren\u2019t the other woman. You were another person he lied to.\u201d
\nI looked down. \u201cBut I had a child with your husband.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cAnd I spent ten years married to a man who didn\u2019t exist. We\u2019re both going to have to learn to live with something we didn\u2019t choose.\u201d<\/p>\n

That night, after Claire left, I stared at the bags on the table. Diapers. Formula. Wipes. They weren\u2019t gifts. They were proof that there were still people capable of doing the right thing, even when it hurt.<\/p>\n

Mark called at eleven. I saw his name on the screen and my stomach twisted. I answered on speaker, with the recording on.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSarah, what did you do?\u201d he said without a greeting. His voice wasn\u2019t sweet anymore. He wasn\u2019t the man from the Upper East Side. He was a cornered animal.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI wrote to you many times. You never answered.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cWhy did you seek out my wife?\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cBecause you didn\u2019t want to be a father or a man.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cDon\u2019t bring Claire into this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed softly.
\n\u2014\u201cYou brought her into this ten years ago when you married her. You brought me into this six months ago when you lied to me. You brought Matthew into this when you decided to abandon him.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was silence. Then he spoke lower.
\n\u2014\u201cThat child needs things I can\u2019t give.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt the blood rush to my face.
\n\u2014\u201cThat child needs diapers, doctors, and a father who doesn\u2019t hide. What you \u2018can\u2019t give\u2019 is called shame.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cI\u2019m not going to let you destroy my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Matthew asleep in his crib. His mouth was open, so peaceful.
\n\u2014\u201cYou already destroyed your life. I just stopped carrying the rubble.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark breathed heavily.
\n\u2014\u201cYou don\u2019t know who you\u2019re messing with.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then I heard another voice on the line.
\n\u2014\u201cBut I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire. I didn\u2019t know she was with him.
\n\u2014\u201cClaire\u2026\u201d Mark stammered.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI\u2019m hearing everything,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd I\u2019m recording it, too.\u201d Mark went silent. \u201cTomorrow, you\u2019re going to show up at Jason\u2019s office. You\u2019re going to hand over documents, bank statements, and whatever else is needed to start the recognition and child support. If you don\u2019t, Sarah and I are going to the authorities together for the misuse of medical information and for threats.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSarah and you?\u201d he said, incredulous.
\n\u2014\u201cYes. What a surprise, right? You thought we\u2019d be pulling each other\u2019s hair out over you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark didn\u2019t answer. Claire finished him off with a beautiful calm:
\n\u2014\u201cYou aren\u2019t worth that much.\u201d She hung up.<\/p>\n

For the first time in months, I slept four hours straight.<\/p>\n

The next day I met Jason. He was a serious lawyer with a low voice, a desk full of files, and a photo of his daughter taped to his computer. He didn\u2019t look at me with judgment. That alone was a lot. He reviewed the papers. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the copies from the clinic, the payments, the photos of me.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cThis is sensitive,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re not just talking about child support here. There could be liability for unauthorized access and use of personal and medical data.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gripped my knees.
\n\u2014\u201cWhat if Mark says I knew he was married?\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire, sitting next to me, answered before Jason could.
\n\u2014\u201cI will testify that she didn\u2019t. I have his messages, his lies, his schedules, everything.\u201d
\nI looked at her. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do that.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cYes, I do.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cYour kids\u2026\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cMy kids need a mother who teaches them that the truth isn\u2019t negotiable just to protect a liar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jason explained the steps. Paternity recognition. Temporary support. Special medical expenses. Therapies. Coverage for screenings. Everything Matthew needed. Not out of pity\u2014but by right.<\/p>\n

When we left, Mark was on the sidewalk. Claire stopped. I did too. He looked like he hadn\u2019t slept. He walked up to me with a face that would have once triggered my sympathy. Now, it only made me tired.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cSarah, I wanted to talk to you alone.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cYou don\u2019t talk to me alone anymore,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ve learned.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at Matthew, who was asleep in the stroller. It was the first time he had seen him in person. His expression changed. I don\u2019t know what he expected. Maybe a problem. A punishment. A burden. But he saw a baby. His baby. Matthew moved his mouth, made a tiny gesture, and stayed asleep.<\/p>\n

Mark swallowed hard.
\n\u2014\u201cHe looks like me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire let out a bitter laugh.
\n\u2014\u201cHow quickly your fatherly instincts appear when there\u2019s an audience.\u201d
\nHe looked down. \u201cI didn\u2019t know how to react.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a step closer.
\n\u2014\u201cYou didn\u2019t \u2018react.\u2019 You investigated. You spied. You lied. You faked receipts. You vanished. That wasn\u2019t fear, Mark. That was a strategy.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cSarah, please\u2026\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cDon\u2019t ask for tenderness from the woman you left counting coins to buy milk.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face contorted. Maybe with shame, maybe with anger. I no longer cared to distinguish.
\n\u2014\u201cI want to know him,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I looked at Claire. Then I looked at Jason, who was waiting at the office door.
\n\u2014\u201cYou will know him when it\u2019s safe for him. With rules. With agreements. With evidence. Matthew isn\u2019t an inconvenient visit on your calendar.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark clenched his jaw.
\n\u2014\u201cHe\u2019s my son, too.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cThen start by paying what a father owes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Weeks passed. Then months. The temporary child support arrived. It wasn\u2019t enough to erase the exhaustion, but it was enough to breathe. Matthew started early intervention therapy. The first time he held his head up for a few seconds longer than expected, I celebrated like he\u2019d won an Olympic medal. I sent the video to Lucy. Then I hesitated\u2014and sent it to Claire.<\/p>\n

She responded with three hearts and a sentence:
\n\u201cThat boy is going to shut a lot of mouths.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire and I didn\u2019t become movie-style best friends. We didn\u2019t go out for coffee to laugh about the disaster. That would have been a lie. There were days she looked at me and I saw her pain. There were days she looked at Matthew and remembered the baby she lost. But we built something rarer and stronger than a quick friendship. We built respect. A bridge made of diapers, documents, tears, and boundaries.<\/p>\n

Her children met Matthew six months later. It was at a park in Brooklyn. Claire told them the truth in small words. That their dad had made big mistakes. That Matthew was their brother. That children don\u2019t carry the blame for what adults do.<\/p>\n

The older one stayed quiet. The girl walked up to the stroller.
\n\u2014\u201cCan I touch his hand?\u201d
\nI nodded. She gave him a finger. Matthew squeezed it. The girl smiled.
\n\u2014\u201cHe\u2019s strong.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire looked at me. I looked at Claire. And we both understood that sometimes, children are more decent than all the adults put together.<\/p>\n

Mark arrived late to that first supervised visit. He brought a huge, ridiculous stuffed bear, still with the tag on. Matthew cried when he tried to hold him. Mark got nervous.
\n\u2014\u201cHe doesn\u2019t recognize me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took the baby back gently.
\n\u2014\u201cThe bond doesn\u2019t come included in the DNA.\u201d
\nClaire, sitting on a bench, said nothing. But she offered a small smile.<\/p>\n

Over time, Mark learned a few things. Not because he became noble, but because the law forced him and shame watched him. He learned the therapy schedule. He learned that a child with Down syndrome isn\u2019t a walking tragedy. He learned that Matthew had a laugh, preferences, tantrums, progress, and a stubborn character. He learned too late. But he learned while watching from the place he chose for himself: the outside.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A year after that first message, Claire came to my apartment with a small cake. Matthew was fifteen months old. It wasn\u2019t his actual birthday, but it was the anniversary of the day she knocked on my door.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cI didn\u2019t know if I should bring something,\u201d she said.
\n\u2014\u201cYou brought diapers the first time. This is nicer.\u201d<\/p>\n

We laughed. Matthew was on the mat, banging two colored blocks together. Claire sat in front of him.
\n\u2014\u201cHey, champ.\u201d
\nHe smiled at her. A huge, drooling, luminous smile. Claire pressed her hand to her chest.
\n\u2014\u201cOh, Sarah.\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cNothing. It\u2019s just\u2026 when I lost my baby, I thought I\u2019d never feel tenderness again without it hurting.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat next to her. \u201cAnd does it hurt?\u201d
\nShe looked at Matthew. \u201cYes. But it\u2019s not only hurting anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know what to say. So I took her hand. She squeezed it. We weren\u2019t enemies. We weren\u2019t sisters. We weren\u2019t blood family. We were two women standing on top of the same lie, refusing to sink with it.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, while Matthew was falling asleep, Claire told me the final truth.
\n\u2014\u201cI\u2019m getting a divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t surprise me. But it still hurt for her.
\n\u2014\u201cAre you sure?\u201d
\n\u2014\u201cYes. For years I thought a family was defended by staying. Now I understand that sometimes it\u2019s defended by leaving.\u201d She looked at the crib. \u201cI don\u2019t want my children to believe that love endures any humiliation. And I don\u2019t want Matthew growing up seeing his father as a prize for bad behavior.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cThank you,\u201d I whispered.
\n\u2014\u201cDon\u2019t thank me so much. I\u2019m saving myself, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

A month later, Mark signed a more permanent agreement. Child support. Health insurance. Therapies. Legal recognition. Supervised visits until a new evaluation. When he put his signature down, he didn\u2019t look at us. Claire was on one side. I was on the other. Not united by him. United against what he had done.<\/p>\n

As we left the courthouse, Mark tried to catch up to us.
\n\u2014\u201cI never wanted it to end like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Claire stopped.
\n\u2014\u201cIt didn\u2019t \u2018end\u2019 like this. We found you like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was carrying Matthew in a sling. He was awake, looking at the streetlights with his attentive little eyes. Mark looked at him.
\n\u2014\u201cIs he ever going to love me?\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a deep breath. Before, I might have responded with rage. Not that day.
\n\u2014\u201cMatthew is going to love with a clean heart. I hope one day you become someone who doesn\u2019t smudge that.\u201d<\/p>\n

He said nothing. We kept walking. Outside, the city went on as usual. Honking horns, bagel shops, people rushing with coffee in their hands. The world didn\u2019t stop for a deceived woman, a betrayed wife, or a different baby.<\/p>\n

But my world had changed. I was no longer the woman who turned off her phone and vomited from fear after sending a message. Claire was no longer the woman in the photo smiling in Brooklyn without knowing anything. And Matthew wasn\u2019t Mark\u2019s secret. He was a boy with a name, rights, siblings, therapy, laughter, and a mother who finally understood her own strength.<\/p>\n

That night, in my apartment, I laid Matthew on my chest. He put his tiny hand on my neck. I told him in a low voice what had happened, as if one day he could understand it all.<\/p>\n

\u2014\u201cYour dad was afraid of you, my love. But we weren\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Matthew made a soft sound. Almost a laugh. I kissed his forehead. I thought of Mark calling me \u201clove\u201d with a mouth full of lies. I thought of Claire walking through my door with grocery bags and a broken heart. I thought of the truth that had left me breathless\u2014that Mark didn\u2019t run because he didn\u2019t know. He ran because he knew too much.<\/p>\n

But what he failed to calculate was this:
\nThat a betrayed wife could choose dignity over revenge.
\nThat a single mother could rise with a baby in her arms.
\nAnd that a child they wanted to hide could become the light that forced us all to see clearly.<\/p>\n

Matthew fell asleep. I closed my eyes. For the first time, I didn\u2019t feel like \u201cthe other woman.\u201d I felt like the first person my son would look at when he needed to know that the world could also be good. And with that, even though it still hurt, it was enough for me to keep going.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cHe knew about your baby long before\u2026 and there\u2019s something even worse that I haven\u2019t told you yet.\u201dThe folder felt as heavy as if it were filled with stones. Matthew … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1720,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1719","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1719","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1719"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1719\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1721,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1719\/revisions\/1721"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1720"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1719"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1719"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1719"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}