PART 3: THE FATHER WHO WROTE THE LIE
\n\u201cDad told me what to say.\u201d
\nFor a moment, nobody moved.
\nBella\u2019s fingers were still wrapped around my sleeve.
\nThe nurse stood beside the bed.
\nErnest waited in the doorway with one hand on the frame.
\nI looked at my daughter.
\nThen at my husband.
\nHe recovered first.
\n\u201cShe\u2019s confused.\u201d
\nHis voice was calm.
\nToo calm.
\n\u201cShe\u2019s exhausted. Look at all these medications.\u201d
\nThe nurse pressed the call button.
\n\u201cSir, please step outside.\u201d
\nErnest ignored her.
\n\u201cBella, sweetheart, you need to rest.\u201d
\nMy daughter pulled at my sleeve.
\nNot toward her.
\nAway from him.
\nI felt it.
\nThat small, frightened movement.
\nTwo years earlier, I had watched fear cross one child\u2019s face and decided it meant guilt.
\nThis time, I did not decide what it meant.
\nI simply stayed between my daughter and the doorway.
\n\u201cStep outside, Ernest.\u201d
\nHe stared at me.
\n\u201cMarissa.\u201d
\n\u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His expression changed.
\nJust enough.
\nThe patient husband disappeared.
\nSomething colder looked through.
\n\u201cBe careful what you\u2019re doing.\u201d
\nThe nurse moved toward the door.
\n\u201cSir, I am asking you again.\u201d
\nAnother staff member appeared.
\nThen hospital security.
\nNot running.
\nNot shouting.
\nJust two people whose presence made Ernest remember there were rules beyond the ones he set at home.
\nHe lifted his hands.
\n\u201cFine. I\u2019ll wait outside.\u201d
\nBella did not loosen her grip until he was gone.
\nI turned back to her.
\nThere were a hundred questions in my throat.
\nWhy?
\nWhen?
\nWhat did he promise?
\nWhat did he threaten?
\nBut I remembered the professor\u2019s voice.
\nMaybe this isn\u2019t the moment for repeated questions.
\nSo I sat.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Put my hand where Bella could reach it.
\nAnd said the only thing I could offer without making another demand.
\n\u201cI heard you.\u201d
\nShe began crying harder.
\n\u201cI tried before.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, you don\u2019t.\u201d
\nThe words struck so softly that I almost wished she had shouted.
\nShe was right.
\nI did not know.
\nI had spent two years calling my silence love.
\nNow I needed to stop speaking long enough to discover what my children had lived through.
\nA doctor entered with another nurse.
\nThey checked Bella.
\nSpoke gently.
\nAsked me to give them space.
\nI moved.
\nWhen a woman from the hospital\u2019s social work team arrived, she introduced herself as Naomi.
\nShe asked to speak with me outside.
\nMy first instinct was to refuse.
\nI had just begun listening.
\nLeaving felt like another failure.
\nNaomi seemed to understand.
\n\u201cSomeone will remain with her,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd we need to arrange a safe way for her to speak.\u201d
\nI looked at Bella.
\nShe was watching me with exhausted eyes.
\n\u201cI\u2019m right outside,\u201d I told her.
\nThen I left.
\nIn a small room down the corridor, Naomi placed a box of tissues between us.
\nI stared at it.
\nI had begun to hate tissue boxes.
\nThey appeared everywhere people expected the truth to hurt.
\n\u201cTell me what you heard,\u201d she said.
\nI repeated Bella\u2019s words.
\nExactly.
\nThen I told her what had happened two years earlier.
\nNot the version I used with relatives.
\nNot the version that began with our fears and ended before the blood.
\nI told her Ernest struck Marcus.
\nI told her I did not intervene.
\nI told her we threw him out.
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cDid you seek medical care for Bella after the original allegation?\u201d Naomi asked.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWas there a report?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cDid anyone trained to interview children speak with her?\u201d
\nI shook my head.
\nThe room seemed to become smaller with every answer.
\n\u201cWe thought we were protecting her.\u201d
\nNaomi waited.
\nI looked down at my hands.
\n\u201cNo. That isn\u2019t enough.\u201d
\nMy voice cracked.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cWe said that. I don\u2019t know what we were doing.\u201d
\nShe did not comfort me with an explanation.
\nShe wrote down what I said.
\nFor the first time, I was grateful nobody was making my choices easier to hear.
\nWhen she asked about Marcus, I told her about his video.
\nThe injury.
\nThe surgery.
\nMy post.
\nI showed her the screen.
\nMy words were still there.
\nMy son\u2019s full name.
\nThe photograph I had used without asking.
\nBeneath it, the comments had changed.
\nPeople were sharing his video.
\nDemanding answers.
\nSome had begun posting information about us.
\nI felt a sudden, sickening fear.
\nThen I understood what I had done to Marcus.
\nNot in theory.
\nNot as an apology I could offer from a safe distance.
\nI understood the sensation of strangers discovering where you worked.
\nOf a phone lighting up with threats.
\nOf your own name becoming something you were afraid to search.
\nI put the phone facedown.
\n\u201cI need to correct it.\u201d
\nNaomi nodded.
\n\u201cKeep a record of what you posted and the responses. Then make a clear correction. Don\u2019t share more of Bella\u2019s private information.\u201d
\nI took screenshots.
\nSaved them.
\nThen I opened a blank post.
\nFor several minutes, I could not type.
\nEvery sentence I began contained an excuse.
\nI was scared.
\nI misunderstood.
\nI was desperate.
\nAll true.
\nAll ways of placing my feelings in front of what I had done.
\nI deleted them.
\nFinally, I wrote:
\nMy earlier post about my son was false and unfair. He does not owe anyone an organ, and I had no right to share his name or encourage judgment against him. I omitted serious harm done to him by our family. Please stop contacting him, his employer, or anyone associated with him. Do not share identifying information about either of my children. I am preserving my original post and correcting the record.
\nI read it twice.
\nThen I published it.
\nThe response was immediate.
\nNot forgiveness.
\nNot relief.
\nAnger.
\nQuestions.
\nPeople accusing me of admitting only what I could no longer hide.
\nI wanted to tell them they did not understand.
\nThen I put the phone away.
\nI had already caused enough harm trying to make strangers see me as a good mother.
\nWhen I returned to the corridor, Ernest was waiting near the elevators.
\nHe stood as soon as he saw me.
\n\u201cWhat did you tell them?\u201d
\nI stopped several feet away.
\n\u201cThe truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His eyes narrowed.
\n\u201cWhose truth?\u201d
\nI had heard that phrase before.
\nUsually when a fact inconvenienced him.
\n\u201cWhat did you tell Bella before that dinner?\u201d
\nHe looked toward the nurses\u2019 station.
\n\u201cNot here.\u201d
\n\u201cThen you can speak to the people asking questions.\u201d
\nHe stepped closer.
\nI stepped back.
\nHe noticed.
\nFor a moment, pain crossed his face.
\nOr something that resembled it.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re afraid of me now?\u201d
\nI thought of Marcus on the floor.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHis jaw tightened.
\n\u201cI was protecting our daughter.\u201d
\n\u201cFrom what?\u201d
\nHe did not answer.
\n\u201cErnest.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t let a frightened child rewrite everything.\u201d
\nThe words chilled me.
\nThat was what he was asking.
\nFor the second time.
\nChoose the account that makes it easiest to stay beside me.
\nIgnore the child who makes you uncomfortable.
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not deciding the whole story in a hospital corridor.\u201d
\n\u201cThen come home with me.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He stared.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll stay near Bella.\u201d
\nHe lowered his voice.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re making a mistake.\u201d
\n\u201cPerhaps. But this one will be mine.\u201d
\nA security officer approached before he could answer.
\nErnest looked at the man.
\nThen back at me.
\n\u201cI\u2019m calling a lawyer.\u201d
\nI nodded.
\nFor once, I did not try to stop him.
\nThat evening, Bella\u2019s condition worsened.
\nAn alarm sounded while I was filling a paper cup at the water dispenser.
\nI turned.
\nPeople were already moving into her room.
\nA nurse put a hand up before I reached the door.
\n\u201cPlease wait here.\u201d
\nI did.
\nMy whole body wanted to push past.
\nTo do something.
\nTo make the right promise.
\nBut there was no sentence I could say that would turn me into the person she needed at that moment.
\nShe needed the team around her.
\nSo I waited while they worked.
\nWhen Dr. Shah came out, he explained what had happened and how they were responding.
\nI listened.
\nI asked him to repeat what I did not understand.
\nThen I said, \u201cI told people Marcus was the only person who could save her.\u201d
\nHis expression softened with exhaustion.
\n\u201cThat is not what we told you.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nHe stood quietly.
\n\u201cI know that now.\u201d
\nHe nodded.
\n\u201cWe are continuing to treat your daughter.\u201d
\n\u201cThank you.\u201d
\nAfter he left, I sat in the chair beside the wall.
\nFor the first time, I did not pray for Marcus to come back.
\nI prayed for Bella.
\nFor the staff caring for her.
\nFor enough courage to stop turning my son into something I was entitled to summon.
\nNear midnight, Professor Price replied to the message I had sent after posting the correction.
\nIt contained only three sentences.
\nMarcus has seen it.
\nHe does not want direct contact at this time.
\nPlease respect that.
\nI stared at the words.
\nThen typed:
\nI will.
\nI did not add that I missed him.
\nDid not ask whether he had eaten.
\nDid not request a photograph of his face so I could reassure myself he was all right.
\nFor two years, I had not earned the right to those answers.
\nI put the phone away.
\nThe next morning, a detective came to speak with me.
\nHer name was Alana Ruiz.
\nShe had a quiet voice and a notebook she did not open immediately.
\nShe asked me to describe the dinner.
\nWho was there.
\nWhere everyone sat.
\nWhen Marcus arrived.
\nWhat Ernest said before the first blow.
\nI wanted to tell her I had been in shock.
\nInstead, I answered.
\n\u201cDid Mr. Walker strike your son after he fell?\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you see where?\u201d
\nI could still hear the chair scraping.
\nMy sister-in-law saying Ernest\u2019s name.
\nMarcus trying to cover himself.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nI told her.
\nNo details softened.
\nNo words like scuffle.
\nNo claim that everything happened too fast to understand.
\nAt some point, Marcus had looked straight at me.
\nI had understood him perfectly.
\nThat was what made it unbearable.
\nDetective Ruiz asked whether anyone photographed his injuries.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cDid he contact you afterward?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nThen I stopped.
\nA memory surfaced.
\nA notification on my phone.
\nAn email.
\nNot from Marcus\u2019s usual address.
\nSomething I had deleted without reading because Ernest told me he was trying to manipulate us.
\n\u201cThere may have been something,\u201d I said.
\nShe waited while I searched.
\nOld email.
\nTrash folders long emptied.
\nNothing.
\nMy stomach sank.
\n\u201cTell me what you remember,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cA message. The day after. Ernest saw the subject line.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cThat I shouldn\u2019t open it.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said Marcus would say anything to come home.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cI listened.\u201d
\nShe wrote that down.
\nThen she asked, \u201cWhat was the subject line?\u201d
\nI pressed my fingers against my forehead.
\nTried to see the screen.
\nThe little rectangle of light beside the kettle.
\nThree words.
\nI needed help.
\nI covered my mouth.
\nDetective Ruiz let the silence remain.
\nThat afternoon, my sister-in-law came to the hospital.
\nErnest\u2019s younger sister, Diane.
\nThe woman who had brought the flan to dinner.
\nShe looked older than she had a week earlier.
\nWe stood beside a window overlooking the parking lot.
\nFor a long time, she watched the cars.
\nThen she said, \u201cI should have called someone that night.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nShe turned toward me.
\nI had never answered her so directly before.
\nNot when the truth involved Ernest.
\nDiane swallowed.
\n\u201cHe told us not to interfere.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cHe said involving anyone would ruin Bella\u2019s life.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cDid you believe him?\u201d
\n\u201cI wanted to leave.\u201d
\nThe answer was so plain that I felt it in my chest.
\nShe wiped her face.
\n\u201cThe children were crying. My husband wanted them out of the house. I kept thinking we\u2019d come back the next morning.\u201d
\n\u201cBut you didn\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nWe stood together with that.
\nTwo women who had found reasons to leave a boy alone.
\nThen she reached into her bag.
\n\u201cI have something.\u201d
\nMy body went still.
\nShe took out an old phone.
\nA cracked corner.
\nA faded case.
\n\u201cI used it that year.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d
\n\u201cMessages.\u201d
\n\u201cFrom Marcus?\u201d
\nShe shook her head.
\n\u201cFrom Ernest.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cAbout what?\u201d
\nShe unlocked the screen.
\nFound a conversation.
\nThen handed me the phone.
\nThe first message was dated three days before the dinner.
\nErnest:
\nIf Marcus calls you, don\u2019t get involved.
\nDiane:
\nInvolved in what?
\nErnest:
\nHe\u2019s been going through paperwork that isn\u2019t his.
\nI looked up.
\nDiane\u2019s eyes were wet.
\n\u201cI forgot about it.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat paperwork?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nI kept reading.
\nDiane:
\nWhat did he find?
\nErnest:
\nHe thinks he understands things he doesn\u2019t.
\nThen:
\nHe\u2019s planning to talk to Marissa. I need you to keep your mouth shut until I deal with him.
\nMy hands began to shake.
\nThere were no accusations about Bella.
\nNo concern for her safety.
\nNo warning that his son had harmed anyone.
\nJust anger about paperwork.
\nThree days before the dinner.
\nBefore Bella said a word.
\nI passed the phone back.
\n\u201cGive that to the detective.\u201d
\nDiane nodded quickly.
\n\u201cI will.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t send Ernest a message.\u201d
\n\u201cI won\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t ask him to explain it first.\u201d
\nHer face crumpled.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nAfter she left, I sat alone in the hospital chapel.
\nI did not kneel.
\nI did not know what I was asking for.
\nThe room smelled faintly of furniture polish.
\nA battery-operated candle flickered beside a little book.
\nI stared at it and tried to remember what Marcus had been like in the weeks before the dinner.
\nQuieter.
\nYes.
\nBut he had always been quiet.
\nHe had asked me whether the college payment went through.
\nI had said his father handled it.
\nHe had asked whether I knew where his grandfather\u2019s old documents were.
\nI had pointed toward the study.
\nAnd once, while Ernest was away, Marcus had stood in the kitchen doorway.
\n\u201cMom, can we talk about something?\u201d
\nI had been late for work.
\n\u201cTonight?\u201d
\nHe hesitated.
\n\u201cOkay.\u201d
\nThat night, Ernest came home early.
\nWe never had the conversation.
\nI pressed both hands against my face.
\nIt had been so easy.
\nNot one grand decision.
\nA hundred little delays.
\nAsk your father.
\nNot now.
\nWe\u2019ll talk later.
\nUntil later became two years.
\nWhen I left the chapel, there was a message from an unfamiliar number.
\nDetective Ruiz.
\nShe asked whether I would meet her again.
\nThere were further questions.
\nI said yes.
\nIn the same small room, she asked whether Marcus had inherited money from my father.
\nI stared.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHow was it held?\u201d
\n\u201cA fund. For college.\u201d
\n\u201cWho managed it?\u201d
\n\u201cErnest.\u201d
\n\u201cWere you given statements?\u201d
\n\u201cHe showed me sometimes.\u201d
\n\u201cDo you have copies?\u201d
\n\u201cPossibly. At home.\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\nI felt something cold settle beneath my ribs.
\n\u201cHow does this relate to Bella?\u201d
\n\u201cWe\u2019re examining the sequence of events. I\u2019m not asking you to draw conclusions.\u201d
\nBut I was already remembering.
\nMarcus\u2019s questions.
\nErnest\u2019s sudden interest in his dorm schedule.
\nThe argument behind the study door that I dismissed as another disagreement about tuition.
\n\u201cDid Marcus speak with you?\u201d I asked.
\nDetective Ruiz paused.
\n\u201cHe has provided information.\u201d
\nI wanted more.
\nI wanted to know where.
\nWhen.
\nWhether he cried.
\nWhether he mentioned me.
\nInstead, I said, \u201cAll right.\u201d
\nShe asked for access to documents I could lawfully provide.
\nI agreed to cooperate.
\nThen she closed the notebook.
\n\u201cThere is another thing.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cYour husband contacted Marcus\u2019s former professor after the video was posted.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cShe preserved the message.\u201d
\n\u201cDid he threaten him?\u201d
\n\u201cWe are reviewing it.\u201d
\nThat careful answer was worse than anything I could imagine.
\nI returned to Bella\u2019s room and sat beside her while she slept.
\nThere was no sudden recovery.
\nNo perfect conversation.
\nJust the steady work of nurses.
\nThe machine beside the bed.
\nHer small hand beneath mine.
\nWhen she woke, she looked toward the door.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s not here,\u201d I told her.
\nShe watched me for a moment.
\n\u201cAre you mad at me?\u201d
\nMy throat closed.
\nI wanted to answer so quickly that she would never have to fear anything again.
\nBut quick answers had brought us here.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sad about what happened,\u201d I said. \u201cAnd there are things adults need to understand. You don\u2019t have to explain everything to me right now.\u201d
\nShe stared at the blanket.
\n\u201cWill Marcus hate me forever?\u201d
\n\u201cI can\u2019t speak for Marcus.\u201d
\nA tear slid down her face.
\nI brushed it away.
\n\u201cBut you don\u2019t have to earn care by making someone forgive you.\u201d
\nShe looked up.
\nI wondered whether anyone had ever said that to her before.
\nI wondered why it had taken me eleven years.
\nThat evening, Professor Price called.
\nI stood so quickly that the chair struck the wall.
\n\u201cHello?\u201d
\n\u201cMarcus has agreed that I can tell you something.\u201d
\nI gripped the phone.
\n\u201cOkay.\u201d
\n\u201cHe does not want to see you. This is not an invitation to contact him.\u201d
\n\u201cI understand.\u201d
\n\u201cI hope so.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes.
\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d
\n\u201cHe has copies of the email you deleted.\u201d
\nMy breath caught.
\n\u201cHe kept them?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cThe one asking for help?\u201d
\nA pause.
\nThen she said, \u201cThat was not the first one.\u201d
\nThe corridor seemed to tilt.
\nI pressed my shoulder against the wall.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cMarcus wrote to you before the dinner.\u201d
\nI could not speak.
\n\u201cHe believed your account might be monitored after you never answered. But he wanted there to be a record of trying.\u201d
\nI searched my memory.
\nNothing.
\nNo message.
\nNo warning.
\nNo moment I could point to and say I had made a terrible choice.
\n\u201cHe sent it to my usual address?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cI never saw it.\u201d
\n\u201cI know what you\u2019re saying.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d My voice broke. \u201cI know how that sounds. But I never saw it.\u201d
\nProfessor Price remained quiet.
\nThen she said, \u201cHe authorized me to forward it.\u201d
\nA notification appeared while she was still speaking.
\nAn old email.
\nForwarded intact.
\nMarcus\u2019s name.
\nA date.
\nThe afternoon before the family dinner.
\nI opened it.
\nMom,
\nI need you to read this before Dad tells you I\u2019m lying.
\nMy knees weakened.
\nI sat on the nearest chair.
\nThe next line was worse.
\nI checked with the college. The missing tuition payments weren\u2019t a bank error.
\nI kept reading.
\nThere were attachments.
\nStatements.
\nA payment history.
\nA balance that should have been there and was not.
\nThen:
\nI asked Dad about Grandpa\u2019s college money. He told me to leave it alone.
\nThe hallway blurred.
\nI wiped my eyes with my sleeve.
\nAt the bottom, my son had written one final paragraph.
\nI\u2019m coming tomorrow because everyone will be there, and I don\u2019t want to discuss this alone with him. Please don\u2019t tell him I emailed you until we can talk.
\nI covered my mouth.
\nHe had not come to dinner that night.
\nHe had stayed at his dorm.
\nWe had called him home after Bella spoke.
\nSomewhere between writing that message and sitting down to spaghetti, Ernest had learned that Marcus intended to tell me.
\nAnd our son had walked into the house believing I might already know.
\nBelieving I might be the one person who would protect him.
\nMy phone slipped against my palm.
\nProfessor Price was still on the line.
\n\u201cMarissa?\u201d
\nI could barely breathe.
\n\u201cHe asked me not to tell Ernest.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t see it.\u201d
\nThere was no answer that could change what happened.
\nI looked at the screen again.
\nThe sent date.
\nThe attachments.
\nThe words before Dad tells you I\u2019m lying.
\nThen another message arrived.
\nNot from the professor.
\nFrom Ernest.
\nYou need to come home before they start looking through the study.
\nI stared at it.
\nA second message followed.
\nThere are things in there that will make this worse for both of us.
\nFor both of us.
\nThe same words he used whenever he needed my silence to feel like loyalty.
\nI stood.
\nWalked toward the nurses\u2019 station.
\nAsked them to contact Detective Ruiz.
\nThen I looked through the glass at my sleeping daughter.
\nFor two years, I had thought the lie began with Bella.
\nIt began before she opened her mouth.
\nAnd somewhere in our house were the records of what Ernest had been willing to destroy his own son to hide.<\/p>\n
PART 3: THE FATHER WHO WROTE THE LIE \u201cDad told me what to say.\u201d For a moment, nobody moved. Bella\u2019s fingers were still wrapped around my sleeve. The nurse stood … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8015,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8843","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\/8843","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=8843"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8843\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8853,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8843\/revisions\/8853"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8015"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8843"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8843"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/realstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8843"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}