{"id":1988,"date":"2026-05-11T14:50:44","date_gmt":"2026-05-11T14:50:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/?p=1988"},"modified":"2026-05-11T14:50:44","modified_gmt":"2026-05-11T14:50:44","slug":"part-2-after-my-moms-funeral-my-dad-tried-to-throw-me-out-he-didnt-know-her-final-clause-would-destroy-him","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/?p=1988","title":{"rendered":"PART 2-\u201cAfter My Mom\u2019s Funeral, My Dad Tried to Throw Me Out\u2014He Didn\u2019t Know Her Final Clause Would Destroy Him\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

Mia lay on her side, already asleep, a small mound under warm blankets. The sight of her like that made my chest ache. I stepped closer, but a nurse subtly blocked my path with her body, a gentle reminder that this was a sterile space and I was a visitor, even if it was my child. Dr. Patel\u2019s face was tight in a way it hadn\u2019t been when he explained the procedure. <\/span>\u201cWe\u2019re still in the esophagus,\u201d he said, voice lower than before. \u201cWe\u2019ve visualized the object.\u201d \u201cOkay,\u201d I said, because I didn\u2019t know what else to say. \u201cSo you\u2019ll remove it?\u201d <\/span>He didn\u2019t answer immediately. His right hand held the endoscope controls. His left hovered as if he\u2019d forgotten what to do with it.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

On the monitor, Mia\u2019s throat was an alien tunnel\u2014pink, slick, faintly pulsing. The camera\u2019s light made everything gleam. The image was strangely intimate, like being shown the inside of a secret. Then, as the scope advanced, something appeared. Metal. <\/span>Not the dull gray of a coin. Not the uneven shine of a cheap toy. This was smooth, circular, catching the light in a way that made it look almost alive. For a split second I couldn\u2019t understand what I was seeing, because my brain refused to connect the object inside my daughter with the object that had sat on my finger for ten years. But it was a ring. My ring. Even through the distortion of the camera and the wetness of Mia\u2019s body, I recognized the tiny scratches on the outer band from when I\u2019d scraped it on a doorframe moving furniture. I recognized the faint nick along the edge from when I\u2019d tried to open a bottle in college like an idiot and Laura had laughed and called me a caveman.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Dr. Patel\u2019s breath caught. \u201cThis\u2026 this is impossible.\u201d\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Laura asked, and her voice was thin as paper.<\/p>\n

He turned the monitor slightly so we could see the engraving more clearly. The camera shifted, and the inside of the band flashed. Forever. L. I heard myself make a sound\u2014half gasp, half laugh, as if my body couldn\u2019t decide whether to panic or deny. \u201cThat\u2019s\u2026 that\u2019s my wedding band.\u201d Laura\u2019s hand, which had been gripping Mr. Buttons\u2019 ear, started to shake. Not a subtle tremor. A visible, uncontrollable shiver that ran down her fingers into the plush fabric. Dr. Patel looked at her, then back at me. His jaw tightened, and I saw the moment he made a decision that had nothing to do with medicine. \u201cHow long has this been missing?\u201d he asked. I swallowed. \u201cMonths.\u201d Laura spoke again, too fast, too bright. \u201cWe thought the maid misplaced it. It\u2019s\u2014this is\u2014this is crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel didn\u2019t look convinced. He lifted his gaze toward a nurse near the door. \u201cBag and label it as recovered foreign body,\u201d he said. Then, without taking his eyes off us, he added, \u201cAnd call security. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s breath hitched. \u201cSecurity? Why would\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause,\u201d Dr. Patel said, voice steady and professional, \u201cwe have a child with an adult\u2019s wedding ring lodged inside her esophagus. And we need to understand how that happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pressed a button on the wall intercom. \u201cSecurity to O2.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words landed in the room like a weight.<\/p>\n

My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. I stared at the screen, at the ring inside my daughter, and something deeper than fear opened in me\u2014something jagged and old, like a crack forming under pressure.<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel turned away from the monitor just long enough to look me directly in the eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cSir,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cI need you to step outside for a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

But I didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n

Because on that flickering screen, in that impossible image of metal wedged in pink flesh, I saw more than a missing ring.<\/p>\n

I saw the outline of a lie.<\/p>\n

And the way Laura\u2019s trembling hand tried to crush a stuffed rabbit\u2019s ear into silence.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 2<\/h3>\n

The first security officer arrived within two minutes. The second followed a minute later, along with a woman in navy scrubs whose badge said Patient Advocate. They stood near the door as if they belonged there, as if their presence was routine.<\/p>\n

Maybe it was.<\/p>\n

To me it felt like a spotlight.<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel resumed the procedure with a kind of controlled urgency. He spoke in clipped phrases to his team, and the tools on the tray made faint metallic clinks that sounded too similar to the ring on the screen. I stood frozen at the foot of Mia\u2019s bed while Laura hovered behind me, a pale shadow.<\/p>\n

The patient advocate stepped closer. \u201cMr. Mercer? Mrs. Mercer? I\u2019m Diane. We\u2019re going to ask you a few questions in just a moment. Right now, the doctor needs space to work.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs she going to be okay?\u201d I asked, because my brain latched onto the only acceptable fear.<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel didn\u2019t look away from the monitor. \u201cShe\u2019s stable,\u201d he said. \u201cBut we need to remove it carefully. There\u2019s a risk of abrasion, and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what about the ring?\u201d Laura interrupted, voice pitching high. \u201cCan\u2019t you just get it out and we go home?\u201d<\/p>\n

Diane\u2019s expression didn\u2019t change, but her eyes sharpened. \u201cWe\u2019re focused on your daughter. The rest will follow.\u201d<\/p>\n

A nurse guided us toward the door. I went because I didn\u2019t want to interfere. Laura followed, clutching Mr. Buttons like a talisman.<\/p>\n

Outside, the hallway felt colder. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the corridor a baby cried, and the sound cut through me with a jealousy that surprised me. That baby\u2019s crisis was new and uncomplicated. Ours had roots.<\/p>\n

Security asked us to sit in a small consultation room with a table and two chairs. It was the kind of room where people got bad news.<\/p>\n

The officer introduced himself as Officer Reynolds. He was polite. Too polite. The second officer, a woman with her hair pulled back tight, leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is standard procedure,\u201d Reynolds said. \u201cWhen an unusual foreign body is found in a minor, we document and make sure there\u2019s no risk of intentional harm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIntentional harm?\u201d Laura echoed, as if the words were foreign.<\/p>\n

Reynolds slid a notepad in front of him. \u201cLet\u2019s start with basics. How old is your daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAny developmental delays? Behavioral issues? Pica?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said again. \u201cShe\u2019s\u2026 she\u2019s just a kid. She puts things in her mouth sometimes. But not\u2014\u201d I swallowed hard. \u201cNot this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reynolds nodded. \u201cCan you explain the ring? When did it go missing?\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt Laura stiffen beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe four months ago,\u201d I said. \u201cI took it off to wash my hands while I was cooking. I left it by the sink. Later it was gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you file a police report?\u201d Reynolds asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I looked everywhere. Laura said maybe the cleaner knocked it into the trash.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura leaned forward. \u201cThat\u2019s what happened,\u201d she said brightly. \u201cWe had a maid service for a while. Things got misplaced sometimes. It was horrible luck, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Officer Reynolds held up a hand gently. \u201cMa\u2019am, we\u2019ll ask about that in a moment. Mr. Mercer, do you remember anything else about that day?\u201d<\/p>\n

I tried to. I saw the kitchen in my mind\u2014white counters, Mia\u2019s coloring book spread out, Laura on her phone by the window. I remembered being annoyed that Laura didn\u2019t help with dinner. I remembered Mia humming to herself. I remembered nothing about a ring after that.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I admitted. \u201cJust\u2026 gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reynolds wrote. \u201cDoes Mia ever play with jewelry? Does she know what a wedding ring is?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated. \u201cShe knows it\u2019s important. She called it my \u2018forever circle.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura made a sound that might have been a laugh if it didn\u2019t crack at the edges.<\/p>\n

Officer Reynolds glanced up. \u201cWhat did Mia say tonight? Before the choking started?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said she swallowed something hard,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd did she say where she found it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Laura cut in quickly. \u201cShe was scared. She didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned to look at Laura, because the way she said it\u2014so confident, so absolute\u2014didn\u2019t match the reality of our daughter. Mia always knew. Mia could describe the exact location of a missing crayon from three weeks ago.<\/p>\n

\u201cMia didn\u2019t say,\u201d I repeated carefully, watching Laura\u2019s face as I spoke.<\/p>\n

The other officer, the woman by the door, finally spoke. \u201cWe will need to speak to Mia when she wakes up, with a nurse present.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s fingers tightened on Mr. Buttons\u2019 ear. \u201cShe\u2019s a child. She\u2019ll be confused. This is going to scare her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s to protect her,\u201d Reynolds said.<\/p>\n

A silence settled, heavy and awkward. My mind kept looping back to the monitor. The ring. The engraving. Forever. L.<\/p>\n

I tried to picture how it could have gotten into Mia\u2019s throat. The simplest explanation was that Mia had found it, thought it was candy, or wanted to hide it, and swallowed. Kids did strange things. Kids panicked.<\/p>\n

But the ring had been missing for months. Where had it been? In a drawer? On a shelf? In a pocket? If it was in our house, why hadn\u2019t it turned up sooner? Why hadn\u2019t Mia swallowed it months ago?<\/p>\n

Unless it wasn\u2019t in the house.<\/p>\n

Unless it hadn\u2019t been missing. Unless it had been\u2026 elsewhere.<\/p>\n

Officer Reynolds cleared his throat. \u201cWe also need to ask, has there been any domestic conflict recently? Any incidents involving discipline that could be considered excessive?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said instantly. \u201cNever.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura nodded so hard it looked like it hurt. \u201cOf course not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Reynolds studied us. \u201cOkay. Dr. Patel will let us know when the object has been removed. It will be bagged and labeled. In situations like this, it may be held as evidence if there\u2019s any concern about neglect or\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s my ring,\u201d I snapped, the anger finally bubbling through the fear. \u201cIt\u2019s mine. It\u2019s not evidence of anything except that my kid swallowed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The patient advocate Diane, who had quietly entered and sat near the corner, spoke softly. \u201cSir, I understand how upsetting that feels. But the priority is Mia\u2019s safety, and the hospital has protocols.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s voice came out in a whisper. \u201cCan we go see her?\u201d<\/p>\n

Reynolds nodded. \u201cAfter the procedure.\u201d<\/p>\n

We waited again, but this time the waiting wasn\u2019t empty. It was filled with the weight of implied accusations and the buzzing sensation that something I thought I understood about my own life had shifted.<\/p>\n

When Dr. Patel finally appeared, his mask was down, his face tired.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s out,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I stood so abruptly my chair scraped. \u201cIs she okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll have a sore throat. We\u2019ll keep her overnight for observation. But she did well.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura let out a sound that was almost a sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth.<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel motioned toward a small clear bag in a nurse\u2019s hand. Inside, resting on white gauze, was my ring. Cleaned but still wet, the metal dull under fluorescent light.<\/p>\n

For a second, my body relaxed at the sight of it, like a part of me had been missing too and now it was back.<\/p>\n

Then Dr. Patel spoke again, and the relaxation died.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have to document this,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd I\u2019m required to report unusual findings involving a minor to the appropriate channels. That doesn\u2019t mean anyone is accusing you of anything. It means we don\u2019t ignore signs that could indicate risk.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s eyes were wide. \u201cRisk? She just\u2026 she just swallowed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dr. Patel looked at her, and his voice stayed neutral, but something in his gaze was sharp. \u201cChildren don\u2019t typically swallow adult wedding bands. Not by accident. Usually there\u2019s a story behind it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt my mouth go dry. \u201cCan we talk to Mia? Ask her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen she wakes,\u201d Diane said gently. \u201cWith staff present, as Officer Reynolds said.\u201d<\/p>\n

We followed Dr. Patel to Mia\u2019s recovery room, but before we reached the bed, the other officer stepped in front of us, palm out.<\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Mercer, we need to speak to you alone for a few minutes,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s face drained. \u201cAlone? Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStandard,\u201d Reynolds echoed from behind us. \u201cSeparate interviews. No pressure. No coaching.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s gaze snapped to mine for a fraction of a second, and in that look I saw something that didn\u2019t belong in a mother\u2019s eyes right after her child survived a medical scare.<\/p>\n

Not relief.<\/p>\n

Calculation.<\/p>\n

The officer guided Laura away down the hall. Laura glanced back once, clutching the stuffed rabbit as if it might anchor her to me. Her hand still shook, but now it looked less like fear for Mia and more like fear of what she couldn\u2019t control.<\/p>\n

Diane touched my arm. \u201cMr. Mercer, why don\u2019t you sit with Mia while we finish the paperwork?\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked into the recovery room alone.<\/p>\n

Mia lay under a blanket, cheeks flushed, hair stuck to her forehead. An IV line snaked from her hand. She looked so small, so breakable, that my anger collapsed into a hollow ache.<\/p>\n

I pulled a chair close and took her free hand.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later her eyelids fluttered. She blinked like someone swimming up from deep water. Her gaze found me, and she frowned.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaddy?\u201d she croaked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here, peanut,\u201d I whispered. \u201cYou did great.\u201d<\/p>\n

She swallowed and winced. \u201cIt hurts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. It\u2019ll get better.\u201d I forced my voice to stay gentle. \u201cMia\u2026 can you tell me something? Where did you find the thing you swallowed?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes shifted toward the window, away from me. A classic kid move. Hiding.<\/p>\n

\u201cMia,\u201d I said softly. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. You\u2019re not in trouble. I just need to know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her lower lip trembled. \u201cMommy said\u2026 Mommy said not to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room tilted.<\/p>\n

I felt the words land inside me like a second foreign object, lodged somewhere deeper than my throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did Mommy say?\u201d I asked, voice barely controlled.<\/p>\n

Mia squeezed my fingers, and for a moment she looked older than six, burdened by a secret too heavy for her small bones.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said it was a grown-up thing,\u201d Mia whispered. \u201cAnd if I told, you\u2019d leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.<\/p>\n

Before I could speak again, the door opened and Laura stepped in, escorted by Diane. Laura\u2019s eyes were red, but her face was composed in a way that felt practiced.<\/p>\n

She smiled at Mia. \u201cHi, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mia turned her face toward the wall.<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s smile faltered.<\/p>\n

I looked at my wife, and the ring that had been missing for months sat somewhere down the hall in a sealed bag like a piece of a crime scene.<\/p>\n

Forever. L.<\/p>\n

The word forever suddenly felt like a threat.<\/p>\n

Part 3<\/h3>\n

Months earlier, before the hospital lights and the security questions and the impossible image on the screen, I\u2019d thought the biggest danger to our marriage was time.<\/p>\n

Not betrayal. Not lies. Just the slow erosion that happens when life gets busy and you assume love will hold its own shape without maintenance.<\/p>\n

I worked in commercial real estate, the kind of job that turns your phone into a leash. Deals don\u2019t respect dinner. Clients don\u2019t care about bedtime routines. I traveled enough that Mia called suitcases \u201cDaddy boxes.\u201d Laura had quit her marketing job when Mia was born and never went back, partly by choice, partly because it made sense on paper.<\/p>\n

For a while, it worked.<\/p>\n

Then Mia started kindergarten, and Laura seemed to float without a schedule. She found new routines. Pilates. A book club. Volunteer shifts at the school. She\u2019d always been social, but now it felt like she was building a life that didn\u2019t include me, brick by brick.<\/p>\n

I tried to be present. I really did. I made pancake Saturdays when I was home. I read Mia stories in silly voices. I kissed Laura\u2019s shoulder when she stood at the stove. But there were nights I came home after Mia was asleep, and Laura was on the couch scrolling on her phone, the screen turned slightly away.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you reading?\u201d I\u2019d ask, and she\u2019d say, \u201cNothing. Just stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n

Stuff.<\/p>\n

Then, four months before the endoscopy, the ring disappeared.<\/p>\n

It was a Tuesday, which I remember because Tuesdays were my least favorite. They were too far from the weekend and too close to Monday. I\u2019d been cooking spaghetti, trying to do something domestic in the middle of a week that had already turned sour.<\/p>\n

I took my ring off because I was kneading meatballs and didn\u2019t want raw beef under the band. I set it on the counter by the sink, right next to Mia\u2019s plastic cup with cartoon sharks.<\/p>\n

Later, when we were eating, I realized my finger felt oddly light.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I said, glancing toward the sink. \u201cWhere\u2019s my ring?\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura looked up from her phone. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy wedding ring. I took it off. It was right there.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stood and walked over, scanning the counter. \u201cMaybe it fell.\u201d<\/p>\n

We searched. We checked the drain trap. We moved the toaster and the coffee maker. We emptied the trash, which smelled like onion skins and old coffee grounds. Mia watched, chewing on her fork like it was entertainment.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you take it?\u201d I asked Mia, half joking.<\/p>\n

She giggled. \u201cNooooo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura sighed. \u201cEthan, it\u2019s probably in the garbage. Or under the fridge.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not,\u201d I said, because I\u2019d already looked.<\/p>\n

Laura\u2019s face tightened. \u201cIt\u2019s just a ring.\u201d<\/p>\n

The way she said just made something flare in me. \u201cIt\u2019s our ring.\u201d<\/p>\n

Laura rolled her eyes, the gesture sharp and dismissive. \u201cYou\u2019re acting like it\u2019s a limb.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt matters,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a symbol,\u201d she countered. \u201cAnd you\u2019re obsessed with symbols.\u201d<\/p>\n

At the time, I thought we were arguing about sentimentality. About my tendency to cling to physical reminders. I didn\u2019t understand we were arguing about ownership.<\/p>\n

The next day, Laura told me she\u2019d called the maid service. \u201cThey said they didn\u2019t see anything,\u201d she said, stirring her coffee with unnecessary force. \u201cBut you know how they are. Someone probably swept it up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you ask them to check the vacuum?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Laura shot me a look. \u201cEthan, stop. It\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t stop. I turned over couch cushions. I checked Mia\u2019s toy boxes. I looked in the junk drawer where we kept expired coupons and tiny screwdrivers. Laura watched me like my searching was a personal insult.<\/p>\n

Eventually, she said, \u201cStop obsessing. It\u2019s just a ring.\u201d<\/p>\n

And I did, sort of. I stopped looking. I stopped bringing it up. But I didn\u2019t stop feeling the absence.<\/p>\n

When you wear something every day for a decade, it becomes part of your skin. The tan line on my finger was a pale ghost. I\u2019d touch it unconsciously during meetings. I\u2019d notice it when I shook someone\u2019s hand. Each time, a small flicker of loss.<\/p>\n

Laura didn\u2019t seem to miss it at all.<\/p>\n

Around the same time, Mia\u2019s pediatrician changed.<\/p>\n

Our old pediatrician retired, and we switched to a practice closer to home. Dr. Caleb Wren was younger, maybe late thirties, with a calm voice and the kind of face that made people trust him without thinking. He had a way of crouching down to Mia\u2019s level and talking to her like she was a person, not a problem\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n

Click Here to continuous Read\u200b\u200b\u200b\u200b Full Ending Story\ud83d\udc49:PART 3-\u201cAfter My Mom\u2019s Funeral, My Dad Tried to Throw Me Out\u2014He Didn\u2019t Know Her Final Clause Would Destroy Him\u201d<\/a><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Mia lay on her side, already asleep, a small mound under warm blankets. The sight of her like that made my chest ache. I stepped closer, but a nurse subtly … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1993,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1988","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\/1988","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=1988"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1988\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1997,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1988\/revisions\/1997"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1993"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1988"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1988"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1988"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}