It wasn\u2019t the ring that froze me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That \u201clet\u2019s see how much she can take now\u201d look.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Around us, people were already pulling out their phones. Two law students covered their mouths with their hands. My friends stared at me with wide eyes\u2014half excited, half confused, because none of them knew the full story. To them, he was a handsome guy, kneeling in the middle of the hallway, holding a black velvet box and trembling slightly. To me, he was the same man who, a year ago, made me go out sick for a \u201csurprise\u201d only to drench me with ice water in front of his friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014\u201cThis time it\u2019s for real,\u201d Adrian repeated, lifting the box a little higher. \u2014\u201cMarry me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The entire university seemed to lean in toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt something incredibly strange. Not butterflies. Not excitement. Not even rage at first. I felt a brutal exhaustion. As if my bones had suddenly grown heavy. As if two full years had been stuffed into my chest and were crushing me from the inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He remained kneeling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Handsome.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Repentant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Perfectly rehearsed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I, standing in front of him, understood that this was exactly the trap: putting me in a position where any response I gave would look bad. If I said no, I\u2019d be the cold one. The traumatized one. The overreactor incapable of forgiving. The crazy girl who humiliated a man \u201cwho really loved her.\u201d If I said yes, I\u2019d be swallowed whole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes moved on their own toward Ximena.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She didn\u2019t look away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On the contrary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She barely raised her eyebrows, as if pushing me. As if saying: Go on, do your little act. Let\u2019s see what you come up with.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And then I saw something else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She wasn\u2019t alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Beside her, leaning against the wall, was one of Adrian\u2019s friends, Ivan<\/strong>, holding up his phone\u2014but not toward us, toward me. He wasn\u2019t filming the proposal. He was filming my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My breathing steadied instantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It wasn\u2019t a proposal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a test.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A show.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A joke with a bow on top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt one of my friends, Paula<\/strong>, step up behind me, as if she wanted to catch me in case I fainted. I didn\u2019t look at her. I kept my eyes on Adrian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes were glistening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It almost makes me laugh to think about it now, because for years I confused his pretty eyes with depth. And that afternoon, for the first time, I could see them for what they were.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They weren\u2019t glistening with love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were glistening with fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fear of losing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fear that I wouldn\u2019t follow the script.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cSay something,\u201d someone whispered in the crowd.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian gave a slight smile. A humble, pained, beautiful smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI know I messed up,\u201d he said, louder now so everyone could hear. \u2014\u201cI know I did horrible things. But I love you. I truly love you. And I want to spend my life making up for all the damage I caused you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a ridiculous \u201cawww\u201d from somewhere in the hallway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I still didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He swallowed hard and delivered the punchline:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cGive me a chance. One last one. In front of everyone, like it should have been from the start.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In front of everyone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because if there was one thing he always loved, it was having an audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked down at the ring. It was pretty, yes. Delicate. Small. Elegant. The kind that you would usually touch with just the tip of your finger just to see if it were actually real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I leaned down a bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I heard the crowd hold their breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I saw Ximena\u2019s smile stretch just a little wider.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then I did something even I didn\u2019t know I was going to do until it happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t take the ring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took his wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian blinked, bewildered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cStand up,\u201d I told him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He hesitated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The crowd let out nervous giggles, thinking this still fit within the \u201cromantic\u201d narrative.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cStand up,\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He stood up slowly, careful not to lose the pose of the beautiful victim. He held the open box between his fingers. I didn\u2019t let go of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cNow turn around,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cTurn toward her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t have to say her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His body knew it before anyone else. Just a second. Just a reflex. But his head turned toward where Ximena was standing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A different kind of silence fell then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A more uncomfortable one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A smarter one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d he asked in a low voice, without letting go of the smile for the audience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wasn\u2019t trembling anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That was the strange part.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The more the script began to break for him, the calmer I felt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cThe same thing you\u2019re doing,\u201d I answered. \u2014\u201cLetting everyone see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The smile twitched ever so slightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDon\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDo what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cHumiliate you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His face changed so little that almost no one noticed. But I did. I knew the exact fissure where Adrian stopped acting \u201cnice\u201d and started getting angry. His lip would tighten first. Then his jaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cIt\u2019s not about that,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cOf course it is. It\u2019s always about that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Behind me, someone whispered: \u201cWhat\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took a deep breath. Not because I lacked air. Because I wanted to savor that second. The precise moment I stopped protecting him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cThe first time you \u2018proposed\u2019 to me,\u201d I said, no longer looking just at him, but at everyone, \u2014\u201cyou showed me a plastic ring in your living room while your best friend made fun of me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ximena lowered her phone. Just a bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cThe second time, you made me go out with a fever because you had an \u2018important surprise,\u2019 and when I got there, you all threw ice water on me while you laughed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Paula let out a \u201cwhat?\u201d so clear it was heard in the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian took a step toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cThat\u2019s enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cNo, wait,\u201d I said, raising a hand. \u2014\u201cI haven\u2019t even gotten to the part where you come to ask for forgiveness in front of half the campus with her standing in the back, smiling as if this were also part of the plan.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every eye turned toward Ximena.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was subtle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I saw it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For the first time since I\u2019d known her, she lost her composure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just a second of genuine discomfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian snapped the box shut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDon\u2019t bring Ximena into this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The phrase hit me like a bell. So clear. So exact. So him<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not even \u201cthat\u2019s not true.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not even \u201cthat happened differently.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t bring Ximena into this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For real this time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not out of nerves. Not out of embarrassment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Out of pure clarity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cSee?\u201d I said, turning toward the crowd. \u2014\u201cEven now. Even right now, he can\u2019t help but choose her first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a murmur, like fabric tearing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Suddenly, it wasn\u2019t just me against a public scene. The public scene was becoming something else. Something less controllable for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ivan lowered his phone completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Paula stood by my side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Majo<\/strong>, the other friend I was leaving class with, did too. They didn\u2019t even touch me. They just stood next to me, one on each side. And that small thing, that tiny gesture, almost made me cry more than the proposal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian looked at me as if he didn\u2019t recognize me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe because he truly didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cYou\u2019re overreacting,\u201d he said through gritted teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not loudly. Just enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cNo, Adrian. Overreacting was getting dressed while I had a fever because I believed that this time you actually meant it. Overreacting was continuing to forgive you every time you made me feel ridiculous. This isn\u2019t overreacting. This is called remembering<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I raised my hand and pointed at the closed box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cPut it away. That ring doesn\u2019t fix anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then Ximena spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course she spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her voice came from the back, sweet, almost offended:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cOh, please. It\u2019s not like we wanted to hurt you. Yeah, we went too far, but you take everything so personally.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned to look at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cSo personally?\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cIt was just banter. Humor. I mean, if you were really that \u2018traumatized,\u2019 why did you stay with him?\u201d she shrugged. \u2014\u201cNo one forced you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There it was\u2014the old trick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If you stay, it\u2019s because you accept it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If you endure it, it\u2019s because it wasn\u2019t that bad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If you cry later, it\u2019s because you want attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at her so hard she stopped smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI stayed,\u201d I told her, \u2014\u201cbecause every time you two finished mocking me, he would come and pick up the pieces. And he made me believe I was feeling too much. That you two were just \u2018like that.\u2019 That if I couldn\u2019t take a joke, the problem was mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ximena let out a dry laugh. \u2014\u201cOh, whatever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cNo, wait. You\u2019re missing your favorite part.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took a step toward her and felt Adrian move, wanting to get in between us. Paula blocked his path with her body, and she didn\u2019t even have to touch him. He stayed where he was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cYou weren\u2019t laughing because you were \u2018the chill friend,\u2019\u201d I continued. \u2014\u201cYou were laughing to remind me where I stood. And he let you because he loved that there was someone who made me look small so he could feel big.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Color started rising to her neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDon\u2019t project onto me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI don\u2019t need to project. I just have a memory.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n People weren\u2019t filming with excitement anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now they were filming with hunger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It made me sick, but it was too late. I could no longer control who turned what into content. The only thing I could<\/em> control was not giving my side of the story away for others to tell for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian ran a hand over his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cOkay. That\u2019s enough. This didn\u2019t have to be done like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And I felt a strange tenderness. An ugly kind. The kind that is born when you realize someone can be cruel not out of strength, but out of cowardice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cEverything about us was like this,\u201d I told him. \u2014\u201cIn public when it suited you. In private when it was time to ask me to understand. Not to make a scene. That Ximena is like a sister to you. That I\u2019m the only one. Not to confuse jokes with a lack of love.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes got more watery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What an actor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Or maybe just a man so used to feeling sorry for himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI did love you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And that actually hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because it was probably true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In his own twisted, selfish, insufficient way\u2026 he had loved me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But there are loves that are no good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Loves that only teach you how much you can bend before you break.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI don\u2019t doubt that you cared for me,\u201d I replied. \u2014\u201cI doubt that you ever respected me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That hung in the air between us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He had no way to touch it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And I had no desire to repeat it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ximena crossed her arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cSo that\u2019s it, then? You did your show, you got it out of your system. Great. Can we leave now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at her, and for the first time, I didn\u2019t feel jealous. Nor competitive. Nor that disgusting desire to win something from her that I couldn\u2019t even name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt something else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Pity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But enough to see the void.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDo you know what the saddest part is?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She curled her lip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cThat you think you won something. But you didn\u2019t. All you did was end up with a man who needs an audience to feel sufficient.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Adrian opened his mouth, but nothing came out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Ximena did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cNo. You<\/em> shut up for a minute and listen closely, because this is the first and last time I\u2019m going to give you my attention.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took another step toward her. I could feel the people vibrating around us, waiting for a blow, a cry, something more spectacular. How hungry the world is for a woman\u2019s disaster when she finally decides not to swallow it alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I didn\u2019t want a show anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wanted precision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI\u2019m handing him over to you completely,\u201d I told her. \u2014\u201cHis jokes. His cowardice. His emergency apologies. His prop proposals. His way of looking at you before deciding what he feels. Keep him. Or don\u2019t. Honestly, I don\u2019t care anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The last sentence hit her harder than any insult.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because that was what neither she nor he could ever tolerate: the possibility of me no longer caring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A thick silence fell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I went back to Adrian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I opened his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I placed the closed box in his palm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I closed it myself with my fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And I said very softly, just for him:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cI don\u2019t want to be the choice of someone who always needs witnesses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I saw him swallow hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I saw a part of him understand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And another\u2014the sickest, deepest part\u2014was already thinking of how to spin the scene to come out as the victim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I knew because he grabbed my wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not hard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That exact gesture of someone who still believes they can stop you with the right version of themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDon\u2019t leave like this,\u201d he said. \u2014\u201cLet\u2019s talk alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Where he could tell me once again that everything was misunderstood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That I was sensitive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That Ximena doesn\u2019t mean anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not to expose him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To think of all the good times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked down at his hand on my wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I raised my eyes to his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201cDon\u2019t touch me ever again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He let go as if I were burning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, I truly left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t run.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t cry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t give anyone the pleasure of seeing me broken there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Paula and Majo came with me. When we had already turned toward the central courtyard, I heard someone in the back ask loudly: \u201cSo he actually did that to her?\u201d followed by several voices overlapping, and then Adrian\u2019s, louder, trying to piece something back together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t look back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That afternoon we went to sit at a caf\u00e9 off-campus. My hands were ice-cold and my heart felt strange, as if I were coming out of surgery without anesthesia. My friends didn\u2019t bombard me with questions. They just stayed with me. They brought me tea. They lent me their silence. Every now and then they\u2019d say a kind swear word about Adrian or Ximena, and that made me laugh a little.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Late at night, when I finally was alone in my room, I checked my phone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Forty-three messages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Twelve missed calls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three audios from unknown numbers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A very long message from Adrian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t open it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On Instagram, I had mentions. People I didn\u2019t even know giving their opinions. A video already circulating, cut right at the part where I make him stand up. In the comments, the usual: what a queen, what a joke, poor him, she\u2019s clearly still traumatized by the friend, better off alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned it off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I washed my face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat on the edge of the bed and, for the first time in two years, I didn\u2019t miss anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not the habit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not the \u201cbut he also had nice qualities.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I slept heavily.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The way I hadn\u2019t slept since before Adrian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning, my mom sent me a message very early: \u201cSome kids are looking for you down here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked out the window with the old, automatic fear of finding him with flowers, with a repentant face, with that talent of his for turning any boundary into a new scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But it wasn\u2019t him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a courier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He was carrying a huge white box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n No sender.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mom brought it up because she thought it was from some store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I put it on the table without touching it much. It was light. Too light. No card. No logo. Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt that small discomfort you learn to recognize when something comes from someone who knows your reflexes too well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I opened it slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside there were no flowers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were no letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were no gifts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was only a small, cheap red velvet box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The same one from the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The one with the plastic ring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And underneath, folded in four, a note written in Ximena\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I opened it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It only said:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t worry. This time I<\/em> said yes.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It wasn\u2019t the ring that froze me. It was that. That smile. That \u201clet\u2019s see how much she can take now\u201d look. Around us, people were already… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1337","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1337","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1337"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1337\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1340,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1337\/revisions\/1340"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1337"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1337"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1337"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}