I opened the door without taking off the security chain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan looked up, and for the first time in many years, I didn\u2019t see the man pointing me toward the exit. I saw a grown man with a beard, a suitcase, and wrinkled pride.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cValerie,\u201d he said. \u201cI need to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at the suitcase. It was the same one. I recognized it by a white bleach stain near the handle, from when one of my daughters spilled juice on it before a trip to Charleston. Life has a cruel way of returning objects to the exact place where they hurt the most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTalk,\u201d I replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked inside. Behind me, you could see my small living room, the wall freshly painted yellow, a secondhand table with a floral tablecloth, the girls\u2019 backpacks hanging from a chair, and a vase with fresh flowers cut from the backyard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It wasn\u2019t big. It wasn\u2019t luxurious. But it didn\u2019t have screaming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan tightened his mouth. That \u201cno\u201d shocked him more than any insult could have. He was used to me giving in just a little so he wouldn\u2019t get angry\u2014used to me clearing space even when he arrived with mud on his shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cValerie, I don\u2019t have anywhere to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt a brief thud in my chest. Not of love. Of memory. Twelve years don\u2019t just erase like dust off a table. You remember the sick man you brought tea to, the one who held your first newborn daughter, the one who once promised to take care of you. But you also remember the one who called you a thief before you had ever taken a thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere are hotels,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have enough money.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He let out a humorless laugh. \u201cMy mom isn\u2019t answering my calls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that, I lowered my gaze to the keys he was holding in his hand. \u201cAnd those?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan lifted them as if they weighed a ton. \u201cThey don\u2019t open the door anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He said it slowly, as if he still couldn\u2019t quite bring himself to believe it. Standing on my porch, he told me through gritted teeth that Mrs. Helen had shown up with a buyer. That she gave him two days to pack his things. She had reminded him, with a calmness very similar to mine, that the deed was in her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cShe told me the house was hers,\u201d he murmured. \u201cThat I had given it to her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I couldn\u2019t help it. I smiled. Not from seeing him destroyed, but because arrogance, when it trips over its own signatures, makes a sound very similar to justice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou put it in her name, Ethan.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo protect it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTo protect it from me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He ran a hand over his face. \u201cI didn\u2019t think my mom would\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAct like the owner?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t answer. Outside, on the street, a local food truck drove past, its music fading. In the distance, a church bell rang, its sound mixing with the rumble of a city transit bus braking at the corner. Savannah kept moving, utterly indifferent to the fact that a man had just discovered that a deed does not obey emotions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan looked toward the hallway. \u201cAre the girls here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI want to see them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTomorrow, at a decent hour.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m their dad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen start acting like one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That one cut him deep. I could see it in his jaw.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t come here to fight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou came here because you don\u2019t have a roof over your head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He lowered his eyes. For the first time, he didn\u2019t deny it. That shifted something inside me. Not enough tenderness to open the door, but the profound sadness of seeing how someone can destroy their own home while genuinely believing they are defending it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJust let me crash on the couch,\u201d he pleaded. \u201cJust for one night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at my living room. I had bought that couch at a flea market downtown one Sunday when the girls and I were walking through the historic district after getting some local sweets. We carried it back home, laughing, with the help of an old man who sold antique frames. That living room was small because it didn\u2019t need to impress anyone. I wasn\u2019t about to turn it into a sanctuary for the man who threw me out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan exhaled sharply through his nose. \u201cAre you really that cold?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There it was. The victim act didn\u2019t last long. The same man as always returned\u2014the one who demanded compassion with one hand and accused you of cruelty with the other if you didn\u2019t give it to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNot cold,\u201d I said. \u201cClear.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTwelve years, Valerie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFor twelve years you reminded me that the house wasn\u2019t mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI was angry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou signed while angry. You kicked me out while angry. You humiliated me while angry. But I lived through the consequences peacefully, because someone had to take care of the girls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked at the door as if he could push it open. He didn\u2019t. Maybe because the security chain was securely in place. Maybe because he finally understood that there was a distance he couldn\u2019t cross just by yelling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy mom sold the house,\u201d he said. \u201cShe\u2019s moving to Tybee Island with her sister. She says she\u2019s going to use the money to open a small shop.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGood for her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs that all you have to say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat did you want, Ethan? For me to cry over the house you took away from me first?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan went silent. From the bedroom, I heard one of the girls stir in bed. I went rigid. I didn\u2019t want them to see him like this, with his suitcase and his broken face. I didn\u2019t want pity to teach them to mistake abandonment for responsibility.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLeave,\u201d I told him in a lower voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cValerie\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTomorrow we can talk about the girls. Respectfully. And with a lawyer if we have to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He looked up. \u201cA lawyer?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I opened the door just a bit wider, as far as the chain would allow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes. I\u2019ve already filed for divorce. I\u2019ve also filed for child support and a formal custody agreement.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan blinked. \u201cWhen did you do all of that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhile you were busy celebrating your victory.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His face completely changed. In that moment, he finally understood that my silence hadn\u2019t been a defeat. It had been movement. Paperwork. Copies. Receipts. Dates. Everything a woman quietly gathers while everyone else thinks she\u2019s just folding laundry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t do this without me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOf course I can start without you. What I couldn\u2019t do was keep going with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He squeezed the useless keys in his fist. \u201cI gave you everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know where my laugh came from. Maybe from the woman I used to be. Maybe from the woman who had just been born in this yellow house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou gave me fear, Ethan. Everything else, I worked for.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He took a step back. For a moment, I thought he would just walk away. But then he spoke in his lowest voice\u2014the one he used when he wanted to convince me when nobody else was listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe girls are going to suffer because of your pride.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that, I opened the door completely, without removing the chain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy daughters suffered when they saw me packing clothes because their dad pointed them toward the exit. They suffered when they heard their mom didn\u2019t have a home. They suffered when they learned to walk on eggshells just so they wouldn\u2019t bother you. My pride didn\u2019t get them out of there. My dignity did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan went pale. \u201cI never hurt them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou taught them that a woman can be expelled from the dinner table if she doesn\u2019t hold the paperwork. I am teaching them that a woman can also hold the keys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t respond. A distant roll of thunder echoed. Savannah in the rainy season smells distinct\u2014like wet earth, fresh biscuits, and old brick. The breeze swept through the door, gently rustling the living room curtain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFind a hotel,\u201d I said. \u201cTomorrow I\u2019ll text you the attorney\u2019s office address.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I closed the door. This time, I was the one closing the door on him. Not with rage. With a steady hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stayed on the other side, listening to his footsteps fade away. Then the dragging of his suitcase on the sidewalk. Then nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I turned around, my oldest daughter, Lily, was standing in the hallway. She was ten years old. Far too perceptive for her age.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWas that Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I nodded. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDoes he not have a house anymore?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The question cut me to the core. I walked over and gently tucked her hair behind her ear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe has to figure out his adult problems.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd he\u2019s not sleeping here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, my love.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lily looked at the door. \u201cEven though he\u2019s my dad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I knelt down in front of her. \u201cExactly because he\u2019s your dad, he needs to learn that this house is respected. You can love him. I am never going to take him away from you. But loving someone doesn\u2019t mean letting them hurt you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My daughter wrapped her arms around me. She didn\u2019t cry. That hurt even more. Children who live around screaming for too long learn to cry on the inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next morning, I took the kids to school early. On the way, we bought some fresh pastries from a bakery near the market. The historic streets smelled of baking dough, coffee, and recent rain. We passed by a local shop where blue ceramic plates gleamed in the window display as if nobody had ever suffered a day in their life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the office supply store, my boss let me take off at noon to go to the law firm. The attorney\u2019s office was located right near the downtown square. I walked beneath the historic awnings, dodging tourists with cameras and street vendors. The local cathedral rose massively in the background, holding that absolute stillness of old stone that reminds you that every human drama, no matter how intense, is small against the canvas of time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But my drama was mine. And I was going to defend it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan was already sitting in the office when I arrived. He was wearing the exact same shirt from the day before, sports dark circles under his eyes, and a badly disheveled sense of dignity. He hadn\u2019t gone to an expensive hotel; that much was obvious. Maybe he slept on a bench, maybe with a friend, maybe at the transit station. I didn\u2019t ask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lawyer placed the documents on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMr. Ethan, we are proposing an initial agreement: child support for the minors, visitation on established days, and direct communication restricted solely to matters regarding the children. Ms. Valerie requests that any property matters be handled through the appropriate legal channels.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan let out a bitter laugh. \u201cProperty matters? She doesn\u2019t have a single thing to claim.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I pulled out my folder. I placed it squarely on the table. The sound was sharp. Ethan looked at the plastic legal fastener as if he already recognized it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Inside were the utility bills paid by me, the bank transfers for the refrigerator, the furniture, the home repairs, the invoices for the roof sealant, the school fees, and the girls\u2019 medical expenses. They weren\u2019t a house deed. They were years of my life converted into numbers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not looking to take a house from you that you don\u2019t even own anymore,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m looking to make you stop pretending that I contributed nothing to that life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lawyer reviewed the pages. Ethan sank back into his chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy mom betrayed me,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at him. \u201cNo. Your mom did to you exactly what you wanted to do to me. She used paperwork to hold power.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His mouth twisted. \u201cAnd what, are you happy now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought about my small house. My daughters sleeping soundly without waking up startled. The fresh flowers at the entryway. My secondhand table. The dirt patch in the yard where I planned to plant fresh herbs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am at peace,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s different.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The meeting was long. Ethan tried to fight the child support amount. He claimed he couldn\u2019t pay that much if he now had to look for a place to live. The lawyer reminded him of his payroll stubs. I reminded him of his daughters\u2019 expenses. He lowered his gaze when I mentioned Lily\u2019s new school shoes and the glasses Maya needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t sign everything that day. But he signed enough. That, too, was a victory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A week later, Mrs. Helen appeared. Not at my house. At the supply store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She arrived wearing dark sunglasses, an elegant purse, and that heavy, sweet perfume that always gave me a headache. I was organizing display poster boards when I saw her walk in. She stood in front of the counter as if she were still the owner of something belonging to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m working.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019ll be quick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My boss looked over at me from the back of the store. I nodded to let him know he didn\u2019t need to intervene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Helen rested her hands on the counter. \u201cEthan is doing poorly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe\u2019s your husband.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cStill on paper. No longer in life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She pursed her lips. \u201cSavannah certainly made you arrogant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked around us. The notebooks, the pencils, the inexpensive backpacks, the children buying school materials, a mother asking for tissue paper for a school project. This place wasn\u2019t arrogant. It was work. It was starting from the very bottom without asking anyone for permission.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSavannah didn\u2019t make me arrogant, Mrs. Helen. It gave me solid ground.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She lowered her voice. \u201cJust let him stay with you for a few days. Don\u2019t be cruel. He\u2019s learned his lesson.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I almost felt a wave of pity for her sheer nerve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou threw him out of the house, and now you\u2019re asking me to pick up the pieces?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI had my reasons.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have mine too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She fell completely silent. For the first time in her life, she didn\u2019t have a rehearsed phrase ready to deploy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat house belonged to me,\u201d she said at last. \u201cHe put it in my name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI had every right to sell it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThen don\u2019t judge me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at her calmly. \u201cI\u2019m not judging you for selling what was yours. I am judging you for coming here to ask me to carry the consequences that you and your son manufactured together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Helen gripped her purse tightly. \u201cYou don\u2019t have a heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have two daughters. That\u2019s more than enough for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She turned and walked out without saying goodbye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That day, after closing up the store, I walked over to a local candy shop downtown. I bought some fresh southern sweets and pralines for the girls. We didn\u2019t have a lot of money, but I wanted to bring home something nice. Sometimes a mother doesn\u2019t celebrate because everything is resolved\u2014she celebrates simply because she is still standing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I got home, Lily and Maya were doing their homework at the table. Maya looked up, her new glasses looking massive on her tiny face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs Dad coming over today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNot today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs he grounded?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat down with them. \u201cNo. He\u2019s just learning how to live in a different place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lily opened the box of sweets. \u201cAnd what about us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at their small hands, the yellow wall, the flowers swaying gently outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe are learning how to live without fear.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Months passed. Ethan rented a small room further out of town, near where he managed to find a job at an auto parts store. At first, he would show up late for his scheduled visitations, armed with excuses and rushed, last-minute gifts. I never argued in front of the girls. I just quietly noted the dates. He began to understand that my calmness was no longer a permission slip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Helen sold the old house. I learned from an old neighbor that the buyer remodeled it immediately. They tore out the living room layout where Ethan had once pointed me toward the door. They changed the entrance. They painted the exterior walls white. It felt right to me. There are some places that need to stop looking like the wound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My house in Savannah, on the other hand, changed right alongside us. We placed clay pots by the entrance. I bought two decorative ceramic plates\u2014just two, because they were expensive\u2014but the girls said they looked like a painted sky. On Sundays, we would head down to the waterfront, watch the local artists working near River Street, and share a massive local sandwich on a park bench.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
We weren\u2019t rich. But we were free to speak out loud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One evening, Ethan arrived to pick up the girls, holding a brown paper bag of fresh bread. He stood there staring at the yellow facade, the swept porch, the clean curtain in the window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou made it look nice,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He lingered, waiting for something more. Maybe an invitation inside. Maybe a sign that he could step across the threshold. I didn\u2019t give it to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lily and Maya came running out the door. They wrapped their arms around him. I let that embrace exist without dragging my past pain into the middle of it. He was their father. I didn\u2019t need to destroy him to have saved myself from him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before leaving, Ethan stepped closer. \u201cValerie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry for throwing you out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at him. It wasn\u2019t enough. But it was the very first honest sentence he had spoken to me in a very long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe problem wasn\u2019t just that you threw me out, Ethan,\u201d I responded softly. \u201cIt was that you genuinely believed you had the right to decide where my life ended.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan lowered his gaze. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo. You\u2019re only just beginning to learn it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He nodded. He walked away down the street with the girls to go get some ice cream. I stood in the doorway, watching them walk down the block. Maya was holding his hand. Lily turned around to wave at me. I waved back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walked back inside my house. The silence welcomed me like a clean, warm blanket. I put water on to boil for coffee and opened the window. Outside, a neighbor was watering her garden. The air smelled of wet earth and sweet pastries. On the living room wall, I hung a brand-new photograph: my daughters and I standing in the middle of the downtown square, smiling with our hair tossed wild by the wind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sat down at my secondhand table. I passed my hand over the folder where I kept my legal papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My grandmother\u2019s papers. My house lease. My own name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan had wanted to protect himself by placing everything far out of my reach. He believed a woman without the paperwork becomes small. He didn\u2019t understand that I came from a grandmother who guarded a small home the way someone guards a seed beneath the soil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And seeds don\u2019t make a sound while they wait. They just grow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That day, while the coffee brewed and the flowers tapped gently against the windowpane, I finally understood that I hadn\u2019t lost a grand house. I had lost a cage with a beautiful roof.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And I had gained a door that opened only with my own key.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I opened the door without taking off the security chain. Ethan looked up, and for the first time in many years, I didn\u2019t see the man pointing… <\/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-2293","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2293","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=2293"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2293\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2296,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2293\/revisions\/2296"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2293"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2293"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2293"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}