\n
PART 3
\nMy fingers didn\u2019t touch it yet.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re early,\u201d I said.
\nShe blinked. \u201cEarly?\u201d
\n\u201cFor people who couldn\u2019t make a funeral.\u201d
\nA flicker passed through her face\u2014confusion first, then something more careful. She adjusted her grip on the handbag.
\n\u201cWe\u2026 we didn\u2019t think it was necessary for both of us to cancel our travel,\u201d she said. \u201cDarnell was really close with his mother, you know that. He just handles grief differently.\u201d
\nHandles grief differently.<\/p>\n
I almost laughed. It came out as air instead.
\nBefore I could answer, the front door opened again.
\nFootsteps.
\nDarnell walked in.
\nHe looked exactly like I remembered and completely unfamiliar at the same time. Expensive jacket. Phone already in his hand. Eyes tired, but not from sorrow\u2014from travel planning, from decisions that had nothing to do with death.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Dad,\u201d he said quickly, like he was checking in on a routine task. \u201cWe don\u2019t have long. The Uber\u2019s waiting.\u201d
\nHis gaze shifted to his wife, then to the folder.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t answer immediately. I just looked at him.
\nAt my son.
\nThe boy I once carried on my shoulders through Detroit summers, who used to fall asleep listening to Diane read recipes out loud as if they were bedtime stories.
\nNow he stood in my living room like a man measuring time in flight departures.
\n\u201cThat,\u201d I said finally, \u201cis from your mother.\u201d
\nThat stopped him for half a second.
\nNot grief.
\nCuriosity.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His wife stepped forward first. \u201cIs it the will?\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t answer her either.
\nI picked up the folder.
\nThe seal was already broken on one edge, like Harold had opened it once, checked it, then resealed it carefully.
\nDiane\u2019s signature was on the bottom.
\nFirm. Certain. Undeniably hers.
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know she had anything to leave,\u201d Darnell said, trying to sound casual.
\nThat was when something inside me shifted\u2014not anger yet. Something colder.
\n\u201cYour mother,\u201d I said quietly, \u201cdid not spend fifty years of her life leaving behind nothing.\u201d
\nI placed the folder back down.
\nNeither of them moved closer.
\nSo I opened it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Inside was not what they expected.<\/p>\n
No simple will dividing furniture or bank accounts.<\/p>\n
There were documents. Multiple pages. Stamped. Signed. Verified.<\/p>\n
And then a letter.<\/p>\n
Written in Diane\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n
My hands hesitated before unfolding it.<\/p>\n
I read the first line silently.<\/p>\n
Then the second.<\/p>\n
And by the third, I felt the room change temperature.<\/p>\n
Darnell shifted. \u201cDad\u2026 what does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer right away.<\/p>\n
Because suddenly I understood the timing.<\/p>\n
The attorney\u2019s repeated calls.<\/p>\n
The quiet weeks before her death.<\/p>\n
The way Diane had insisted on handling \u201cpaperwork\u201d alone.<\/p>\n
She hadn\u2019t been preparing to leave things behind.<\/p>\n
She had been preparing for what came after she was gone.<\/p>\n
I finally spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t just leave an inheritance,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
I looked at my son.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd she made decisions about who it belongs to.\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife laughed lightly, uncomfortable. \u201cWell, of course it goes to her only child.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned the letter slightly toward them.<\/p>\n
Darnell leaned in.<\/p>\n
His expression changed the moment his eyes moved across the page.<\/p>\n
Confusion first.<\/p>\n
Then disbelief.<\/p>\n
Then something that looked like anger trying to disguise itself as shock.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2026 is this?\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
Because Diane hadn\u2019t left everything to him.<\/p>\n
Not even close.<\/p>\n
And the part that changed everything\u2026 was still unread.<\/p>\n
Darnell took a step closer, as if distance would change what the paper said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make sense,\u201d he said sharply. \u201cMom would never\u2014just leave everything split up like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife leaned over his shoulder, eyes scanning the page faster than he was willing to read it out loud. I watched her expression change first. Not confusion this time.<\/p>\n
Concern.<\/p>\n
Then calculation.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is she talking about?\u201d she asked quietly.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer immediately. I let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable enough to feel real.<\/p>\n
Diane had always said silence tells the truth better than people do.<\/p>\n
Finally, I spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s not talking,\u201d I said. \u201cYour mother is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Darnell scoffed. \u201cDad, she\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded once. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I tapped the letter.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut she prepared for what would happen after.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes dropped back down.<\/p>\n
This time he read slower.<\/p>\n
And I watched it happen again\u2014the shift.<\/p>\n
The tightening in his jaw. The small flicker in his eyes when words stop being abstract and start becoming consequences.<\/p>\n
His voice lowered. \u201cThis is impossible\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife grabbed the paper from his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cWait\u2014no, no, this can\u2019t be right,\u201d she said quickly, scanning it. \u201cThis says\u2026 this says the house\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
She stopped.<\/p>\n
Because she had finally found the line that mattered.<\/p>\n
The house was not left to Darnell.<\/p>\n
Neither were the savings.<\/p>\n
Neither were the accounts they clearly assumed were waiting for them like a closed suitcase.<\/p>\n
Darnell\u2019s voice sharpened. \u201cWhere did she put it then?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him for a long moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t put it anywhere,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
His confusion deepened. \u201cWhat does that even mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked up the second document from the folder.<\/p>\n
This one was heavier. More formal. Multiple signatures. Witness stamps. Attorney notes in the margins.<\/p>\n
Diane had not simply divided her assets.<\/p>\n
She had reorganized them.<\/p>\n
And then she had moved something far more important than money.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe transferred control,\u201d I said quietly, \u201cthree weeks before she died.\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife frowned. \u201cControl of what?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned the page around.<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s when Darnell finally saw it.<\/p>\n
Not just inheritance distribution.<\/p>\n
Not just property.<\/p>\n
But ownership.<\/p>\n
Of everything.<\/p>\n
The house. The accounts. The insurance policies.<\/p>\n
And one final line at the bottom that made the room go completely still:<\/p>\n
\n\u201cConditional inheritance pending acknowledgment of prior abandonment and legal forfeiture of filial responsibility.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
Darnell looked up at me.<\/p>\n
His face had changed now.<\/p>\n
The annoyance was gone.<\/p>\n
The confidence was gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this supposed to mean?\u201d he asked again, but his voice wasn\u2019t demanding anymore.<\/p>\n
It was uncertain.<\/p>\n
I felt something in my chest tighten\u2014not satisfaction. Not revenge.<\/p>\n
Something heavier.<\/p>\n
Truth finally being spoken in a language people can\u2019t interrupt.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt means,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cyour mother didn\u2019t die without thinking about what she was leaving behind.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped closer to the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd it means she remembered everything you forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went quiet.<\/p>\n
Even the house outside seemed quieter, like it was listening now.<\/p>\n
Darnell\u2019s wife finally broke the silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis isn\u2019t legal,\u201d she said quickly. \u201cPeople can\u2019t just\u2014just write emotional conditions into estates like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
A small voice. Not confident anymore.<\/p>\n
Behind her, Darnell was still staring at the page like it might change if he blinked.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when I saw it.<\/p>\n
The final document.<\/p>\n
Smaller than the rest.<\/p>\n
Folded separately.<\/p>\n
No signature at the front.<\/p>\n
Only Diane\u2019s handwriting on the top line:<\/p>\n
\u201cIf they come looking for what I left, give them this last page.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n
My hand paused above it.<\/p>\n
Darnell noticed immediately. \u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
Because I suddenly understood something I hadn\u2019t understood at the funeral.<\/p>\n
Diane hadn\u2019t just prepared a will.<\/p>\n
She had prepared a final message.<\/p>\n
Not for lawyers.<\/p>\n
Not for me.<\/p>\n
For them.<\/p>\n
And whatever was written on that page\u2026<\/p>\n
was not about money anymore.<\/p>\n
Part2: My Son Skipped His Mother\u2019s Funeral for a Trip to Europe\u2014Then Her Will Changed Everything<\/h3>\n
PART 5<\/h4>\n
I unfolded the last page slowly.<\/p>\n
The paper felt different from the others\u2014softer at the edges, as if it had been handled more than once before it ever reached me.<\/p>\n
Darnell took a half step forward. \u201cDad\u2026 just read it.\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice wasn\u2019t demanding anymore. It was cautious. Like he was afraid of what silence might say first.<\/p>\n
I lowered my eyes.<\/p>\n
<\/div>\nAnd I read.<\/p>\n
\n\n\u201cIf you are reading this, then I am already gone.<\/p>\n
I am not surprised you did not come.<\/p>\n
I am not even angry anymore.<\/p>\n
I stopped being angry the first time I sat alone at a hospital waiting room and realized I had raised a son who learned how to leave before he learned how to stay.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\nThe room went still.<\/p>\n
Even Darnell\u2019s wife stopped moving.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
\n\n\u201cRaymond will not tell you this part. He never knows how to speak when it matters most.<\/p>\n
So I will.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything I built was never meant to reward silence.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\nMy throat tightened slightly, but I kept reading.<\/p>\n
\n\n\u201cDarnell, you will think this is about money.<\/p>\n
It is not.<\/p>\n
It is about memory.<\/p>\n
I remembered every time you said \u2018I\u2019m busy\u2019 when I needed five minutes.<\/p>\n
I remembered every birthday you missed but still posted about online.<\/p>\n
I remembered how quickly you learned to turn love into inconvenience.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\nA sound escaped Darnell\u2014small, involuntary. Not words. Not denial. Something caught between breath and shock.<\/p>\n
His wife reached for his arm.<\/p>\n
<\/div>\nHe didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n
\n\n\u201cSo I made my decision early.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe house is not yours because you stopped living in it long before I stopped breathing in it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe accounts are not yours because you only return when there is something to take.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the life insurance\u2026 is not yours because I did not want my death to fund your comfort.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\nSilence.<\/p>\n
Heavy. Absolute.<\/p>\n
Even the clock on the wall sounded too loud.<\/p>\n
I looked up briefly.<\/p>\n
Darnell\u2019s face had gone pale in a way I had never seen before.<\/p>\n
Not grief.<\/p>\n
Recognition.<\/p>\n
\nI continued reading the final lines.<\/p>\n
\n\n\u201cEverything has been placed in a trust.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot for punishment.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor observation.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf my son learns what it means to come back without being called, to give without being asked, and to stay without being rewarded\u2014then what I have left will be released to him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf not\u2026 then let it go where it belongs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere effort has always been present, even when love was not.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\nI lowered the paper slowly.<\/p>\n
The room didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n
Darnell stared at me, then at the letter, then at nothing.<\/p>\n
His voice finally broke the silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this\u2026 real?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Because that wasn\u2019t the question.<\/p>\n
The real question was different now.<\/p>\n
And I think he knew it too.<\/p>\n
His wife let out a small laugh\u2014uncertain, nervous. \u201cA trust that depends on behavior? That\u2019s\u2026 that\u2019s not how inheritance works.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is when someone spends fifty years watching how people behave.\u201d<\/p>\n
Darnell finally sat down.<\/p>\n
Not dramatically.<\/p>\n
Just\u2026 as if his legs had stopped agreeing with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t think she would actually\u2026\u201d he started.<\/p>\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n
Couldn\u2019t finish it.<\/p>\n
Couldn\u2019t say\u00a0die<\/em>, or\u00a0notice<\/em>, or\u00a0care<\/em>.<\/p>\n
I folded the letter carefully and placed it back into the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe did,\u201d I said quietly.<\/p>\n
The word landed heavier than anything else in the room.<\/p>\n
Outside, a car door shut.<\/p>\n
An Uber, maybe.<\/p>\n
A reminder that life keeps moving even when people stop understanding it.<\/p>\n
Darnell looked up at me, eyes red now, but not fully broken.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I do now?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
It was the first honest question he had asked since the beginning of this entire story.<\/p>\n
I held his gaze for a long moment.<\/p>\n
And for the first time since Diane died, I didn\u2019t feel alone in the house.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou start,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cby deciding whether you came back too late\u2026 or just in time.\u201d<\/p>\n
And somewhere in that silence\u2026<\/p>\n
the real ending had not been written yet.<\/p>\n
PART 6<\/h2>\n
Darnell didn\u2019t speak for a while.<\/p>\n
The house felt different now\u2014not because anything had changed physically, but because something invisible had shifted inside it. Like the walls had finally stopped pretending nothing had ever happened.<\/p>\n
His wife was the first to break.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what,\u201d she said carefully, \u201cwe just\u2026 prove we\u2019re good people now? And everything goes back to us?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what it says.\u201d<\/p>\n
She frowned. \u201cThen what is it supposed to mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
I glanced at the envelope in my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt means your mother didn\u2019t want apologies written after she was gone,\u201d I said. \u201cShe wanted behavior that existed while she was still alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Darnell let out a short breath. \u201cSo what, I\u2019m just disqualified? That\u2019s it?\u201d<\/p>\n
His voice cracked slightly on the last word, like he hated that it did.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t rush my answer.<\/p>\n
Because Diane hadn\u2019t raised him to be punished. She had raised him to notice.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t say you were disqualified,\u201d I said finally. \u201cShe said you were\u2026 not proven.\u201d<\/p>\n
That word hung in the air longer than the others.<\/p>\n
Not proven.<\/p>\n
Not condemned. Not erased.<\/p>\n
Just unearned.<\/p>\n
Darnell stood up again, slower this time. He walked to the window, staring out at the quiet street like it might explain something better than I could.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t hate her,\u201d he said suddenly.<\/p>\n
I believed him.<\/p>\n
That was the problem.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just\u2026 didn\u2019t have time,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n
I nodded once. \u201cThat\u2019s what you told her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence again.<\/p>\n
But this time it was different.<\/p>\n
Less sharp. More honest.<\/p>\n
His wife shifted uncomfortably. \u201cThis is insane,\u201d she whispered, but without conviction now. \u201cPeople don\u2019t leave emotional conditions like this. This is\u2026 manipulation.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned to her.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said quietly. \u201cIt\u2019s observation.\u201d<\/p>\n
Darnell looked back at me. \u201cSo what happens now?\u201d<\/p>\n
That question again.<\/p>\n
But now it sounded heavier. Less like escape. More like responsibility.<\/p>\n
I walked over to the table and placed the folder back where it had been.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happens now,\u201d I said, \u201cis what always should have happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
He waited.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou decide what kind of son you are without an audience.\u201d<\/p>\n
That seemed to land somewhere deep, because he didn\u2019t answer immediately.<\/p>\n
For the first time since he walked into the house, he wasn\u2019t performing anything. No confidence. No impatience. No excuses ready on standby.<\/p>\n
Just a man standing in a space that used to belong to his mother.<\/p>\n
His phone buzzed.<\/p>\n
He looked at it.<\/p>\n
A notification. Flight reminder.<\/p>\n
Europe.<\/p>\n
His old life waiting for him like nothing had changed.<\/p>\n
He stared at it for a long time\u2026 then turned the screen off.<\/p>\n
His wife noticed. \u201cDarnell?\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer her.<\/p>\n
Instead, he sat down again slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know how to fix this,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
And this time, I didn\u2019t hear avoidance in it.<\/p>\n
I heard something closer to truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He looked at me. \u201cDid she\u2026 did she ever think I would come back?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hesitated.<\/p>\n
Then I told him the only honest thing left.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cBut not because she expected you to. Because she hoped you might still learn how.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was when the silence finally changed.<\/p>\n
Not heavy anymore.<\/p>\n
Not sharp.<\/p>\n
Just open.<\/p>\n
His wife looked between us, suddenly unsure of where she stood in a conversation she could no longer control.<\/p>\n
Darnell reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone again.<\/p>\n
This time, he didn\u2019t check flights.<\/p>\n
He looked at a photo.<\/p>\n
I saw it from across the room.<\/p>\n
Diane.<\/p>\n
Smiling in an old kitchen.<\/p>\n
Probably years ago.<\/p>\n
Before silence got too comfortable.<\/p>\n
He stared at it for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then he spoke, quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t react.<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t want the money if it means this is what I become.\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife looked stunned. \u201cDarnell\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He raised a hand slightly. Not harsh. Just final.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t undo what I did,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I also can\u2019t keep pretending it didn\u2019t matter.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think\u2026 she knew that too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me loosen, just slightly.<\/p>\n
Not joy.<\/p>\n
Not relief.<\/p>\n
Something quieter.<\/p>\n
Understanding.<\/p>\n
The house creaked softly, like it was settling.<\/p>\n
And for the first time since Diane\u2019s funeral, it didn\u2019t feel empty in a way that hurt.<\/p>\n
It felt empty in a way that made room.<\/p>\n
Darnell stood up.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t reach for the folder again.<\/p>\n
Didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n
Didn\u2019t ask for clarification.<\/p>\n
Instead, he said something I never expected to hear from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDad\u2026 can I stay tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him for a long moment.<\/p>\n
Not the version of him that left.<\/p>\n
Not the version of him that came back too late.<\/p>\n
But the version of him still deciding.<\/p>\n
Then I nodded once.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cYou can.\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife hesitated in the doorway, watching him like she wasn\u2019t sure where she fit anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you coming?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
Darnell didn\u2019t answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Then he said, \u201cNot tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
And she left.<\/p>\n
Quietly.<\/p>\n
No argument.<\/p>\n
Just the sound of heels fading down a hallway that had heard too many endings.<\/p>\n
When the door closed, the house changed again.<\/p>\n
Not louder.<\/p>\n
Not happier.<\/p>\n
Just\u2026 real.<\/p>\n
Darnell sat back down.<\/p>\n
I sat across from him.<\/p>\n
For a long time, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then he finally said, almost in a whisper:<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you think she would forgive me?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at the empty space where Diane used to sit.<\/p>\n
The chair near the window.<\/p>\n
The one slightly pulled out, like she was always halfway between staying and leaving.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cshe already made room for that question.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside, Detroit kept moving.<\/p>\n
Cars. Lights. Distance.<\/p>\n
But inside the house, for the first time in a long time\u2026<\/p>\n
nothing was being taken.<\/p>\n
Only understood.<\/p>\n
And that was how it ended.<\/p>\n
THE END<\/h2>\n
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PART 3 My fingers didn\u2019t touch it yet. \u201cYou\u2019re early,\u201d I said. She blinked. \u201cEarly?\u201d \u201cFor people who couldn\u2019t make a funeral.\u201d A flicker passed through her face\u2014confusion first, then … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3999,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4065","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\/4065","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=4065"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4065\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4066,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4065\/revisions\/4066"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3999"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4065"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4065"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4065"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}