\u2014\u201dMom, before you scream, you need to know that baby isn\u2019t Dad\u2019s\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dylan left the sentence hanging. His phone was still pointed at me. His eyes weren\u2019t tearful. They weren\u2019t frightened. They were calculating. Just like Arthur\u2019s. Just like Mariana\u2019s. Just like Roger\u2019s used to be whenever he told me he had a night shift and came back smelling of perfume I had never worn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Raymond took a step forward. \u2014\u201dPut the phone down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dylan smiled. \u2014\u201dWhy? Don\u2019t you want it recorded how my mom finds out the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt the room shrinking. \u2014\u201dWhat truth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dylan looked toward the door. Arthur and Mariana were right behind him. My oldest son had his jaw clenched. Mariana was crying, but not like someone who felt pain. She was crying like someone watching a plan fall apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014\u201dDylan, shut up,\u201d Arthur ordered. Dylan ignored him. \u2014\u201dThat baby wasn\u2019t Dad\u2019s,\u201d he repeated. \u201cShe was Mariana\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The world dropped out from under me. I looked at my daughter. My baby girl. The one I used to send to school with poorly made braids because I never learned how to style hair beautifully. The one who cried when she got her first period and begged me not to tell anyone. The one who called me dramatic every time I questioned her silences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mariana lowered her face. \u2014\u201dMom\u2026\u201d \u2014\u201dYour baby?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
No one answered. They didn\u2019t need to. The word \u201cDAD\u201d written on Roger\u2019s chest began to change shape inside my head. It wasn\u2019t a mistress\u2019s mockery. It was an accusation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Mariana. \u2014\u201dDid Roger know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She covered her mouth. Arthur stepped in: \u2014\u201dMom, this doesn\u2019t have to happen here.\u201d \u2014\u201dDid Roger know?!\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mariana cried harder. \u2014\u201dYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt the air burn my throat. \u2014\u201dAnd who was the father?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The silence that followed was worse than any answer. Raymond looked at my children one by one. Dylan lowered his phone an inch. Arthur clenched his fists. Mariana closed her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I understood something that no mother should ever understand by looking at her own children. \u2014\u201dNo,\u201d I said. My voice didn\u2019t sound like mine. \u2014\u201dNo, Mariana.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She shook her head, desperate. \u2014\u201dMom, it wasn\u2019t like that.\u201d \u2014\u201dWho was the father?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arthur stepped forward. \u2014\u201dThat\u2019s enough.\u201d Raymond stopped him with a hand. \u2014\u201dLet her answer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mariana broke down completely. \u2014\u201dArthur.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The name fell upon the bed where Roger lay dead. Arthur. My oldest son. My son in a suit. My son who told me to just sign the paperwork. My son who wanted me to not make a scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt a violent wave of nausea. \u2014\u201dMy God\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Arthur exploded. \u2014\u201dIt\u2019s not what you\u2019re thinking!\u201d \u2014\u201dWhat do you want me to think?!\u201d \u2014\u201dMariana was drunk. It was a stupid mistake. An error.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mariana shrieked: \u2014\u201dIt wasn\u2019t a mistake for me!\u201d Her voice bounced off the walls of Room 17.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dylan stopped recording. For the first time, he looked terrified. Mariana turned to me, shaking. \u2014\u201dMom, I told Dad. I couldn\u2019t have that baby. I couldn\u2019t look at her. I couldn\u2019t look at her and know\u2026\u201d She bent over as if she were going to throw up. \u2014\u201dDad said he would handle it. That he would register her as his own daughter. That nobody had to know. That you wouldn\u2019t survive the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The infant identification band in the evidence bag seemed to gleam under the dim yellow light. Baby Salinas.<\/em> Date: May 14th.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201dWhere is the baby girl?\u201d I asked. Nobody answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond looked at Dylan. \u2014\u201dThat\u2019s exactly what we\u2019re trying to find out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Roger\u2019s cell phone vibrated again. New message. \u201cThe three of them are there. Don\u2019t let the old lady leave.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond picked it up with a handkerchief. Arthur went completely pale. \u2014\u201dThat\u2019s not my number.\u201d \u2014\u201dNobody said it was,\u201d Raymond replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But his eyes were fixed on Mariana. She took a step back. \u2014\u201dI didn\u2019t send that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan muttered: \u2014\u201dIt was Evan.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We all looked at him. \u2014\u201dWhat Evan?\u201d I asked. Raymond answered before my children could: \u2014\u201dEvan Cordero. The administrator at the hospital where your husband worked. He also appears in several of Dr. Salinas\u2019s messages.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana began to cry again. \u2014\u201dHe said he could fix it.\u201d \u2014\u201dFix what?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur ran a hand through his hair. \u2014\u201dMom, the baby was born alive. Dad wanted to keep her. He said he wouldn\u2019t allow them to make her disappear or give her up for adoption without paperwork. He said he was going to report everything. Arthur, the hospital, Evan\u2026 everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond looked at him. \u2014\u201dSo Dr. Salinas wasn\u2019t hiding an affair.\u201d \u2014\u201dNo,\u201d Dylan said, his voice dropping low. \u201cHe was hiding the baby girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My body began to shake violently. \u2014\u201dRoger lied to me all these months to protect a baby?\u201d Nobody answered. And that, too, was an answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I leaned against the wall. Thirty years of marriage began to collapse inside me, but not like before. Not because of the infidelity I had imagined. Because of something far worse. Roger had built a wall of secrets around a child born from a horrific violation right inside my own home. And my children\u2014my three children\u2014were standing on the other side of that wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2014\u201dWhere is the baby girl?\u201d I asked again. Arthur looked toward the door. Raymond noticed. \u2014\u201dArthur.\u201d \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t know.\u201d \u2014\u201dArthur,\u201d Mariana said, utterly broken. \u201cEnough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He glared at her. \u2014\u201dYou shut up.\u201d I took a step toward him. \u2014\u201dDon\u2019t you talk to her like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur let out a bitter laugh. \u2014\u201dOh, now you want to be a mother? Now?\u201d The phrase hit me like a physical blow. \u2014\u201dWhat did you say?\u201d \u2014\u201dYour entire life, you took care of Dad more than us. Everything was Roger. Roger\u2019s clothes. Roger\u2019s dinner. Roger\u2019s reputation. We just had to be good little kids so Dr. Salinas looked good.\u201d \u2014\u201dThat doesn\u2019t give you the right to destroy your sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana buried her face in her hands. Dylan whispered: \u2014\u201dOr the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur spun toward him. \u2014\u201dYou keep your mouth shut! You were perfectly happy when Evan offered the money.\u201d Dylan went dead silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at my youngest son. \u2014\u201dMoney?\u201d Raymond looked up. \u2014\u201dMrs. Elena, your husband withdrew a large sum of cash from an account two days before he died. We believe it was to pay for private security and get the child out of the hospital safely.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan lowered his head. \u2014\u201dEvan said that if Dad reported it, Arthur would go to prison and Mariana would be ruined forever. That you wouldn\u2019t survive the shame. That it was best if the baby just disappeared.\u201d \u2014\u201dDisappeared how?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan couldn\u2019t look me in the eye. \u2014\u201dThey sold her,\u201d Mariana said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The room lost all its air. I felt like my legs no longer belonged to my body. \u2014\u201dWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana began pounding her chest with one hand. \u2014\u201dI didn\u2019t want to. I didn\u2019t want to. Dad took her out of the NICU. He said he was going to raise her, that even if she wasn\u2019t his, she would be a Salinas, because no baby is to blame for being born from something horrible. But Evan found out. Arthur owed him money. Dylan helped alter the digital paperwork. I was heavily sedated. I didn\u2019t know where my daughter was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur shouted: \u2014\u201dYou signed the papers!\u201d \u2014\u201dBecause you told me she was stillborn!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana\u2019s scream tore through me. Raymond raised a hand. \u2014\u201dEnough. All of you are going to the station to give statements.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur laughed. \u2014\u201dStatements? With what evidence? Lipstick on my father\u2019s chest? A hospital band? A dead man\u2019s messages?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, from the bathroom door, a slight sound was heard. A soft thud. We all spun around. Raymond drew his weapon. \u2014\u201dWho\u2019s in there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody answered. The detective advanced slowly, kicked the door wide open, and found a woman hiding among the motel towels. Young. In a housekeeping uniform. Trembling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The exact same voice that had called me at 11:48 p.m. \u2014\u201dI called the lady,\u201d she said, weeping. \u201cI saw everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur turned white. \u2014\u201dYou\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The woman shrank back behind Raymond. \u2014\u201dThe doctor arrived with a folder. He said he was waiting for someone who had information about the baby. But then two men arrived. One was from the hospital. The other\u2026\u201d She looked right at Arthur. \u2014\u201dWas him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur took a step back. \u2014\u201dShe\u2019s lying.\u201d The woman shook her head. \u2014\u201dThey argued. The doctor said he had already found the baby girl. That he was going to tell his wife everything. That he had proof.\u201d \u2014\u201dWhat proof?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The woman reached into her uniform pocket and pulled out a USB flash drive. \u2014\u201dHe gave it to me right before he collapsed. He told me: \u2018If I don\u2019t make it out, give this to Elena Vargas. Not to my children.’\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur lunged toward her. Raymond slammed him against the wall before he could touch her. \u2014\u201dDon\u2019t move!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan began to cry. Mariana sank to the floor. I looked at the flash drive in that stranger\u2019s hand and felt that Roger, even in death, was placing the truth directly into my hands. Not his love. Not his fidelity. The truth. And sometimes, that weighs much more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the flash drive were videos. Documents. Forged certificates. Messages from Evan. Wire transfers. A recording of Arthur negotiating with him. Another of Dylan accepting money to hack into the hospital\u2019s NICU database and alter the birth registry. And a video of Roger, recorded two days prior. He appeared sitting in his office, his eyes red and his white coat wrinkled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cElena,\u201d<\/em> he said, \u201cif you are watching this, forgive me. Not for being unfaithful. I wasn\u2019t, though they will probably try to make you believe I was. Forgive me for staying silent. For thinking I could handle a tragedy alone that belonged to all of us.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I covered my mouth. Roger continued: \u201cMariana was abused by Arthur. I didn\u2019t know how to tell you without destroying you. It was my own cowardice. The baby girl was born alive on May 14th. Arthur and Dylan, aided by Evan Cordero, altered the registries to make her vanish. I found her. Her name is Emilia. She is with a family in a nearby city who likely doesn\u2019t know the truth either. If anything happens to me, look for Detective Raymond Castle. Do not trust our children. Do not sign anything. And do not allow them to bury Emilia twice.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The video ended. I didn\u2019t cry immediately. The pain was too massive to leave through my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at Arthur, handcuffed against the wall. I looked at Dylan, sitting on the floor like a child who could no longer sustain his own cynicism. I looked at Mariana, broken, hugging her knees. And then I looked at Roger\u2019s body. \u2014\u201dThirty years,\u201d I whispered. \u201cThirty years, and you still never learned how to tell me the truth while you were alive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond lowered the flash drive. \u2014\u201dMrs. Elena, we need to go get the child.\u201d \u2014\u201dI\u2019m coming with you.\u201d \u2014\u201dIt\u2019s not safe.\u201d \u2014\u201dDetective, tonight I found my husband dead, discovered my daughter had a child, that my oldest son destroyed her, that my youngest son sold his silence, and that a granddaughter of mine was ripped away from this family. Do not talk to me about safety.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond held my gaze. Then he nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur screamed as they led him away. \u2014\u201dMom! You can\u2019t do this to me!\u201d I walked right up to him. Not to hug him. Not to hit him. Just to make sure he saw me clearly. \u2014\u201dI\u2019m not doing anything to you, Arthur. For the first time in your life, I am just letting what you did catch up to you.\u201d \u2014\u201dI\u2019m your son!\u201d \u2014\u201dMariana was my daughter too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He opened his mouth, but found no words. \u2014\u201dAnd Emilia is my blood as well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan was sobbing. \u2014\u201dMom, I didn\u2019t know they were going to kill Dad.\u201d I looked down at him. \u2014\u201dBut you did know they were going to sell a baby.\u201d He lowered his head. \u2014\u201dYes.\u201d That yes<\/em> was his sentence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took Mariana with me to a hospital first. Not Roger\u2019s hospital. A different one, where nobody knew us. They took her statement, reviewed her medical chart, and brought in a psychologist. She didn\u2019t want to speak. She didn\u2019t want to be touched. She didn\u2019t want to hear Arthur\u2019s name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat right beside her. \u2014\u201dMariana.\u201d She didn\u2019t look at me. \u2014\u201dI am your mother.\u201d She let out a broken laugh. \u2014\u201dNow?\u201d It stung. I deserved it. \u2014\u201dYes. Late. But now.\u201d She wept silently. \u2014\u201dI thought if I told you, it would kill you.\u201d I took her hand, very gently, leaving room for her to pull away if she wanted to. She didn\u2019t. \u2014\u201dIt almost killed me not knowing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Raymond located Emilia thirty-six hours later. It wasn\u2019t like in the movies. We didn\u2019t storm a house full of armed criminals. It was a simple home in Pennsylvania, with a couple who had paid for a \u201cprivate adoption,\u201d completely believing it was legal. They had a white crib, sterilized bottles, and a baby girl with enormous eyes sleeping with a yellow ribbon in her hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emilia. My granddaughter. My daughter\u2019s daughter. The little girl Roger had died trying to bring back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I saw her behind the viewing glass at the child protection agency, my legs gave out. Mariana was beside me. She pressed her hands to her chest. \u2014\u201dIt\u2019s her.\u201d She didn\u2019t rush to hold her. She didn\u2019t scream that she was hers. She just looked at her the way one looks at something that hurts too deeply to love. \u2014\u201dShe has Dad\u2019s mouth,\u201d she whispered. And I didn\u2019t know if she meant Roger or the monster, Arthur. Then she added: \u2014\u201dRoger\u2019s.\u201d That was when I wept. Because for the first time, that little girl wasn\u2019t a piece of evidence from a horror story. She was a baby. Just a baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The legal process was a monster. Long, painful, and ugly. Arthur tried to deny everything until the digital evidence sank him entirely. Dylan agreed to cooperate in exchange for a plea deal, but that didn\u2019t save him from facing serious prison time. Evan Cordero fell along with a network of forged documents, illegal adoptions, and money that smelled of hospital corruption.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana testified. She shook. I threw up with her in the restroom afterward. But she testified. I testified too. Against my sons. Against the hospital. Against the perfect-family lie I had guarded for thirty years as if it were fine china.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Roger\u2019s funeral was small. I didn\u2019t invite Arthur. Dylan was in custody. Mariana didn\u2019t want to go. I went alone. In front of the closed casket\u2014because this time there actually was a casket with a body\u2014I told him: \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t forgive you yet. Maybe I never will for keeping me in the dark for so long. But you found Emilia. I give you that.\u201d I placed a white rose on the wood. \u2014\u201dAnd I didn\u2019t sign a thing.\u201d Then I left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emilia remained under protective custody while the legalities were sorted out. The couple who had her wept when they handed her over. They weren\u2019t monsters; they had been deceived too. That made everything sadder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana wasn\u2019t ready to be a mother. She said it herself\u2014with shame, with guilt, with relief. \u2014\u201dI can\u2019t look at her without remembering.\u201d The psychologist told her that didn\u2019t make her a bad person.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I petitioned for temporary custody. At fifty-six years old, I learned all over again how to prep bottles, how to sleep in short stretches, how to recognize cries. The first night Emilia slept in my house, I sat by the crib until dawn. I was terrified to blink, afraid she might vanish again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana came over some afternoons. At first, she stayed far away. Then she would touch a tiny foot. Later, she would sing to her from the doorway. One day, Emilia gripped her finger. Mariana dissolved into tears. \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t know if I can do this.\u201d I told her the truth: \u2014\u201dYou don\u2019t have to do it today.\u201d She looked at me. \u2014\u201dWhat if I can never do it?\u201d \u2014\u201dThen we will find a way to love her without ever lying to her.\u201d Because that was the one thing I was no longer willing to negotiate. The truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Arthur received his sentence some time later. I didn\u2019t go to hear it. I didn\u2019t owe him my presence. He sent me letters. In one, he wrote: \u201cMom, you know I\u2019m not a monster.\u201d<\/em> I tore it up. Not because he wasn\u2019t my son, but because he precisely was. And loving a son doesn\u2019t mean helping him hide the devastation he caused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dylan was released before Arthur, but he didn\u2019t return to my house. He asked for my forgiveness in a prison visitation room, his eyes hollow. \u2014\u201dMom, I just wanted the money. I didn\u2019t think\u2026\u201d I interrupted him. \u2014\u201dThat was the problem. You didn\u2019t think about the child.\u201d He lowered his head. \u2014\u201dWill you ever forgive me?\u201d I looked at my hands. The same ones that carried him as a baby. The same ones currently carrying Emilia. \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t know.\u201d It was the most honest thing I could offer him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Three years passed. Emilia learned to walk by holding onto my living room furniture. Mariana was still in therapy. Sometimes she held her; sometimes she couldn\u2019t. Sometimes she went weeks without coming over, then returned ridden with guilt. We learned not to demand a calendar-perfect love from her. Love, after so much horror, had to grow without a whip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One day, Emilia pointed to a photo of Roger on the shelf. \u2014\u201dWho?\u201d Mariana was sitting right next to me. She froze. I took a deep breath. \u2014\u201dYour grandfather, Roger.\u201d Emilia smiled. \u2014\u201dGrandpa?\u201d \u2014\u201dYes, my sweet girl. Grandpa.\u201d I didn\u2019t say hero. I didn\u2019t say saint. I didn\u2019t say martyr. She would know more one day. Not all at once, and not with morbid detail, but she would know. Because the lies kept \u201cto protect\u201d eventually rot entire generations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night, after Emilia fell asleep, Mariana told me: \u2014\u201dDad died for her.\u201d \u2014\u201dYes.\u201d \u2014\u201dAnd he failed us too.\u201d \u2014\u201dYes.\u201d \u2014\u201dCan you love someone and be furious with them at the exact same time?\u201d I looked at the crib. \u2014\u201dYou can. I live there every day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mariana rested her head on my shoulder. We weren\u2019t the family we used to be. That family died in Room 17 of the Palm Tree Motel. Perhaps it had been dead long before that. But that night\u2014among a warm body, a word written in lipstick, and an infant identification band\u2014something else began. Not a perfect family. Not a spotless family. A family with case files, scars, therapy, supervised visits, silences, and a baby girl who was entirely innocent of it all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes I dream of Roger. I see him at the motel, trying to speak to me. I always tell him the same thing: \u201cYou should have told me while you were alive.\u201d<\/em> He never responds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I wake up to Emilia calling me from her crib. \u2014\u201dGrandma.\u201d And I go to her. Because she is alive. Because Mariana is still here. Because the truth, though it arrived late and covered in blood, left us a chance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My children arrived that night before the police to ask me not to make a scene. I didn\u2019t obey them. I made the biggest scene of our lives. And thanks to that, a little girl they wanted to erase learned to speak her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Emilia Salinas Vargas. My granddaughter. The proof that even within a rotten family, someone innocent can be born. And that a mother, even if she wakes up late, can still choose to stop protecting monsters and start protecting the victims.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u2014\u201dMom, before you scream, you need to know that baby isn\u2019t Dad\u2019s\u2026\u201d Dylan left the sentence hanging. His phone was still pointed at me. His eyes weren\u2019t… <\/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-2779","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2779","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=2779"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2779\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2782,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2779\/revisions\/2782"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2779"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2779"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2779"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}