\u201cDo you also want me to tell you who is sitting in the cab of the truck holding a folder of property deeds in their hand?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian closed his eyes. It wasn\u2019t a surprise. It was resignation. I gripped the phone tighter. \u201cTell me.\u201d The guard swallowed hard before responding. \u201cAttorney Carter, ma\u2019am. The same one who came by two months ago claiming to be your husband\u2019s estate advisor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father-in-law looked down. My mother-in-law stopped breathing. Jamie turned to Julian, her mouth agape. \u201cEstate advisor?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian held up his hands. \u201cVeronica, listen to me.\u201d I smiled. Not because I was amused. Because finally, everyone was where they were supposed to be: uncomfortable in my living room. \u201cLet them in,\u201d I told the guard. \u201cBut without the truck. And have security record everything.\u201d \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d I hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian walked toward me. \u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019re doing.\u201d \u201cOh, I know exactly what I\u2019m doing. I\u2019m letting the crime finish happening right at my front door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My brother-in-law turned pale. \u201cCrime? Don\u2019t exaggerate.\u201d I looked at him. \u201cBringing a moving truck, forged documents, and a pregnant mistress to install her in a house that doesn\u2019t belong to you isn\u2019t called a \u2018misunderstanding.’\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father-in-law tapped his cane again. \u201cVeronica, watch your words.\u201d \u201cI watched them for nine years. That\u2019s why they carry weight now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian lowered his voice. \u201cIf you do this, you sink us all.\u201d That\u2019s when I understood. He didn\u2019t say \u201cyou sink me.\u201d He said \u201cus.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at his family, one by one. At my mother-in-law, who no longer seemed worried about the baby, but about the paperwork. At my father-in-law, who had his jaw set like a judge without a courtroom. At my sister-in-law, who pretended to check her phone even though her fingers were trembling. At Jamie, who was starting to discover she wasn\u2019t the new queen, but just another cheap piece in an old game.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo everyone was in on it,\u201d I said. No one answered. They didn\u2019t have to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doorbell rang. This time it wasn\u2019t me who moved. It was Julian. He tried to reach the door before I did, but the system prompted for facial recognition. \u201cAccess denied.\u201d The metallic voice filled the room. Sometimes technology has more character than an entire family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walked to the entrance. The camera showed Attorney Carter standing next to the guard. He was wearing a blue suit, his hair slicked back, carrying a brown leather folder. Behind him, on the exterior screen, I could see the truck. Boxes. Mattresses. A crib. A white crib, still wrapped in plastic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My chest burned. Not with jealousy. With the sheer arrogance of it. They had already decided where the baby would sleep in my house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened the door. \u201cAttorney Carter, how punctual.\u201d He smiled, not knowing he had already lost. \u201cMrs. Vance, I believe there was a confusion with security. Your husband authorized the move.\u201d \u201cMy husband cannot authorize a single flower pot on this property.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His smile froze. \u201cWell, legally, that is open for discussion.\u201d I held out my hand. \u201cThen let\u2019s discuss it inside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He walked in. And seeing the whole family gathered, he realized too late that he hadn\u2019t arrived for a move. He had arrived at a trap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My lawyer appeared a minute later through the side door. Attorney Morales. Tall, gray-haired, with that terrifyingly calm demeanor of lawyers who don\u2019t need to shout because they come with certified copies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGood afternoon,\u201d he said. \u201cVeronica, shall we proceed?\u201d Julian turned to me. \u201cWhat is he doing here?\u201d \u201cThe same as your mistress. He was invited.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie shivered. \u201cI am not his mistress.\u201d I looked at her. \u201cThen correct me. What are you?\u201d She didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Morales placed a folder on the table. \u201cBefore we continue, I am informing you that this meeting is being recorded with the consent of the owner. The room has an active security circuit.\u201d My mother-in-law stood up. \u201cI didn\u2019t authorize that.\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t have to,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s my house.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The phrase landed again. Heavier. Colder. More final.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carter cleared his throat. \u201cMrs. Vance, there are documents indicating that this property was integrated into the marital estate through a private agreement.\u201d Morales raised an eyebrow. \u201cShow them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carter opened the folder. He pulled out three pages. I already knew them. I had seen them that morning when my lawyer called and said: \u201cVeronica, someone tried to register an apocryphal transfer with your signature.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My signature. Except it wasn\u2019t my signature. It was a clumsy imitation made by someone who thought a humiliated woman was also a distracted woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carter placed the papers on the table. \u201cThis confirms the wife\u2019s will to transfer interest to Mr. Julian as a marital investment.\u201d Morales didn\u2019t touch the pages. He pulled out his own folder. \u201cCurious. Because on the day she supposedly signed that, Mrs. Vance was in Miami at a restoration conference. We have plane tickets, hotel invoices, attendance records, photographs, and video of her presentation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian looked at Carter. Carter looked at the floor. My father-in-law muttered: \u201cThere are always ways to clarify things.\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d Morales said. \u201cAt the District Attorney\u2019s office.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie placed a hand on her belly. \u201cJulian, what is this?\u201d He looked at her with annoyance. Not with love. With annoyance. \u201cStay out of this.\u201d She backed away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right there, for the first time, I saw that Jamie didn\u2019t know everything. She knew she was coming to intrude in my house. She knew she was pregnant by a married man. She knew she was coming to sit where she wasn\u2019t invited. But she didn\u2019t know she was also being used as a smokescreen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou promised me a house with fake papers?\u201d she whispered. My mother-in-law approached her. \u201cHoney, calm down. Think of the baby.\u201d Jamie swiped her hand away. \u201cDon\u2019t call me honey.\u201d Good. Finally, someone was a quick learner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian poured himself another whiskey with a shaking hand. \u201cAll of this could have been avoided if you had been reasonable.\u201d \u201cReasonable?\u201d I asked. \u201cWas it reasonable for me to go to a hotel while you moved a crib into my bedroom?\u201d \u201cIt wasn\u2019t just your bedroom.\u201d \u201cYes, it was. You were sleeping there by invitation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My brother-in-law let out a nervous laugh. \u201cVeronica, don\u2019t make things up. Julian paid for renovations.\u201d \u201cWith money from the joint account that I funded by 70%.\u201d He went silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened another folder. I had prepared it for months. Not because I knew about Jamie. But because contempt also leaves a paper trail. \u201cHere are the house expenses. Property taxes, maintenance, repairs, security, utilities, renovations, roofing, landscaping. Nine years. Also here are the payments Julian stopped making fourteen months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law turned pale. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t need to be aired out.\u201d \u201cYou brought a moving truck today. We\u2019re already airing everything out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Morales took the floor. \u201cAdditionally, we detected movements from Mrs. Vance\u2019s personal account to a company called North Dawn Construction. A company linked to Mr. Julian and Mr. Ernest Vance.\u201d He looked at my father-in-law. Ernest. My father-in-law straightened his back. \u201cI don\u2019t manage anything of my son\u2019s.\u201d \u201cI didn\u2019t say you managed it. I said you appear as a silent partner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The tapping of the cane stopped. The room became quieter than an empty church. Julian looked at me with a mix of rage and fear. \u201cYou went through my accounts.\u201d \u201cNo. I went through mine. You used my money to cover your debts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie sat down slowly. \u201cWhat debts?\u201d Julian gripped his glass. \u201cShut up, Jamie.\u201d She stood up abruptly. \u201cNo. You brought me here saying this house was practically yours, that your wife was sick, that you were already getting divorced, that I and the baby were going to be safe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sick. I let out a bitter laugh. \u201cDid he also tell you that I couldn\u2019t have children because I was \u2019emotionally unstable\u2019?\u201d Jamie\u2019s eyes widened. Julian closed his. The answer was right there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Grace, my mother-in-law, sighed as if the problem were my lack of discretion. \u201cVeronica, understand. Julian always wanted to be a father. You couldn\u2019t give him that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the blow tried to get in. It couldn\u2019t. Because I had been waiting for that sentence for months. I reached into my bag and pulled out a white envelope. I left it on the table. \u201cYou\u2019re right. I couldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law sweetened up instantly. She thought she had found a crack to exploit. \u201cThen be generous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I opened the envelope. \u201cI couldn\u2019t because Julian had a vasectomy seven years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The glass fell from my husband\u2019s hand. It shattered against the floor. Jamie stood staring at the glass shards. Then at her belly. Then at Julian. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law sat down hard. My father-in-law cursed under his breath. My sister-in-law let out an \u201cOh my God\u201d that carried no faith, only panic. Julian turned white. \u201cWhere did you get that?\u201d \u201cFrom the same hospital where you had the procedure. You signed an authorization to share medical records with me back when you still pretended to trust your wife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie backed away as if the floor were burning. \u201cNo. It can\u2019t be.\u201d Morales spoke carefully. \u201cThe procedure was confirmed. There are subsequent tests where the sperm count is zero.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie placed her hands on her belly. \u201cBut I\u2019m pregnant.\u201d No one spoke. The phrase she previously used as a crown turned into a stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian approached her. \u201cJamie, we can talk.\u201d She pushed him away. \u201cWho do you think it belongs to then?\u201d My mother-in-law jumped in. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t matter now.\u201d \u201cOf course it matters!\u201d Jamie screamed. \u201cYou put me in this house as if I were proof of something, and it wasn\u2019t even his child!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I looked at Grace. Her face was too stiff. Too calculated. \u201cYou knew,\u201d I said. She didn\u2019t answer. \u201cYou knew Julian couldn\u2019t get anyone pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father-in-law gripped his cane. \u201cDon\u2019t accuse without proof.\u201d \u201cLike you all did to me for nine years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Morales pulled out another document. \u201cWe have messages from Mrs. Grace to Julian. In one of them, she says: \u2018It doesn\u2019t matter if it\u2019s not yours. With a baby in the middle, Veronica will give up the house so she won\u2019t look cruel.’\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie covered her mouth. I felt cold. Not for myself. For her. Because as much as she had come to humiliate me, she had also been used. Her pregnancy wasn\u2019t a miracle. It was a lever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian collapsed into the armchair. \u201cMom\u2026\u201d Grace looked at him harshly. \u201cSomething had to be done. That house was the only way to save you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That\u2019s when the theater fell apart. There was no love for the baby. There was no concern for a pregnant woman. There was no family. There were debts. There was a house. There was a daughter-in-law they thought was easy to push around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father-in-law stood up. \u201cThat\u2019s enough. We\u2019re leaving.\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d Morales said. \u201cThere is still one notification left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The doorbell rang again. This time, two police officers and a court clerk walked in. Julian stood up. \u201cWhat did you do?\u201d \u201cWhat I should have done since the very first small lie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The clerk read the measures. Prohibition of access without authorization. Immediate eviction order for non-residents. Commencement of a complaint for forgery of documents. Preventive measures for attempted illegal dispossession. Evidence log for the moving truck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Carter, the fake advisor, started to sweat. \u201cI only brought documents that were handed to me.\u201d \u201cYou can explain that in your statement,\u201d one of the officers said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie walked toward the door. I stopped her with one sentence: \u201cYour suitcase isn\u2019t coming in, but you can sit down if you need to call someone.\u201d She looked at me as if she didn\u2019t understand the language. \u201cWhy?\u201d \u201cBecause I am not them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyes filled with tears. I didn\u2019t feel complete pity for her. She wasn\u2019t a saint. She wasn\u2019t innocent of everything. But in that moment, she was a pregnant woman discovering her promised land was a trap. She sat far from Julian and called a friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mother-in-law glared at me. \u201cAlways so dramatic. Playing the good guy.\u201d \u201cNo. Playing the owner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The officers accompanied Carter to the gate. The truck was removed. Jamie\u2019s boxes never made it past the entrance of the subdivision.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian tried to go upstairs to the master bedroom. The system spoke again. \u201cAccess denied.\u201d I looked at him. \u201cI changed the internal access too.\u201d \u201cMy clothes are up there.\u201d \u201cYours are in black trash bags in the laundry room. You can collect them with an inventory and a witness.\u201d \u201cTrash bags?\u201d \u201cIt was either that or the dumpster.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My brother-in-law tried to intervene. \u201cYou\u2019re going too far.\u201d I turned on him. \u201cYou knew the truck was coming.\u201d He didn\u2019t respond. \u201cThen you\u2019re leaving too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One by one, they left the house. My mother-in-law left crying tearless cries. My father-in-law walked slowly\u2014not because of age, but because of defeat. My sister-in-law avoided my gaze. My brother-in-law muttered that this wasn\u2019t over. \u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d I replied. \u201cIt just started.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Julian was the last one. He stood in the doorway, a bag of clothes in each hand. \u201cNine years, Veronica.\u201d \u201cYes. That\u2019s how long it took me to learn how to close the door.\u201d \u201cI loved you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at him. I searched his face for the man who once brought me flowers when my mother died. For the one who promised to take care of this house because he knew what it meant. For the one who cried with me when the first treatment failed. He wasn\u2019t there. Perhaps he was never fully there. \u201cNo, Julian. You liked living here. It\u2019s not the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I closed the door on him. Not slammed. Not dramatically. Just closed. The system clicked. For the first time in nine years, that sound gave me peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jamie stayed in the living room for a few more minutes. Her friend was on the way. Her face was destroyed. \u201cI thought you were the villain,\u201d she said. \u201cThat\u2019s what they needed you to think.\u201d \u201cThey told me you were obsessed with the house. That you wouldn\u2019t let him be happy. That you were cold.\u201d \u201cAnd you believed them?\u201d She looked down. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t hug her. I didn\u2019t offer her friendship. I just gave her a glass of water. \u201cGet a paternity test when you can. And get a lawyer who isn\u2019t a friend of theirs.\u201d She nodded. Before leaving, she stopped at the door. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d The word came out tiny. Insufficient. But it came out. \u201cYou don\u2019t just owe me an apology,\u201d I told her. \u201cYou owe me the truth if you are called to testify.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ll give it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She left. And then the house was empty. Empty of voices. Of excuses. Of a borrowed family. Of foreign footsteps going up stairs that my mother left me so I wouldn\u2019t have to live on my knees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went up to my bedroom. I sat on the floor and finally cried. Not for Julian. Not for Jamie. Not for the baby. I cried for the Veronica who for years asked for permission in her own home. For the one who lowered her voice so as not to disturb her mother-in-law. For the one who accepted having her body, her character, her sadness, and her fertility scrutinized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I cried until my head ached. Then I got up. I changed the sheets. I opened the windows. I pulled the original deed of the house from a drawer. My mother\u2019s deed. At the end, she had written a note in blue ink: \u201cVero, a house is worth nothing if you can\u2019t breathe inside it.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I kissed the paper. \u201cI can now, Mom,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The following months were messy. Julian asked for mediation. Then he asked for forgiveness. Then money. Then he threatened to sue me for \u201cunlawful eviction.\u201d Morales took care of answering every document with evidence. The messages. The truck. The fake signatures. The vasectomy. The withdrawals from my account. Carter\u2019s invoices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Vance family stopped calling me \u201cdaughter\u201d and started calling me \u201cthat woman.\u201d I liked it better. It was more honest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jamie testified. Not out of pure goodness. Partly out of fear. But she testified. She handed over audio recordings where Grace explained how to enter the house \u201ccalmly,\u201d how to place her hand on her belly, how to repeat that the baby needed stability. In one audio, my mother-in-law said: \u201cVeronica won\u2019t fight. Women without children break easily.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I listened to that phrase in Morales\u2019s office. I didn\u2019t cry. I just asked for a copy. I wanted to keep it. Not to torture myself. To never forget what some people call family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jamie\u2019s paternity test revealed the baby belonged to an ex-boyfriend of hers. She disappeared from our lives for a while. Later I heard she moved in with a cousin and decided to raise the child alone. I didn\u2019t judge her anymore. I had enough on my plate judging myself for having endured so much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Julian lost more than he expected. Not his freedom, because justice is rarely that poetic. But he did lose access to my house, my accounts, my contacts, and the image of a respectable man he used in meetings. His company collapsed when his partners found out he tried to put up someone else\u2019s property as collateral for debt. My father-in-law sold an apartment to cover part of the hole. My mother-in-law stopped wearing pearls for a while. I guess financial pain also keeps a period of mourning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I signed the divorce papers on a rainy Tuesday. Julian arrived with an overgrown beard and a wrinkled shirt. He wanted to talk about memories. About trips. About the first Christmas. About my mother. I stopped him right there. \u201cDon\u2019t you put my mother\u2019s name in your mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He signed. I signed. And when the judge asked if there was anything else to add, I said: \u201cYes. Let the record show that the house was never in dispute. What was in dispute was my right to stay in it without apologizing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n No one clapped. It wasn\u2019t a soap opera inside the courtroom. But Morales smiled. That was enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first night after the divorce, I did something ridiculous. I played loud music. I made myself a dinner Julian didn\u2019t like: lentil soup with plantains. I ate in the big dining room, the same one where his family tried to judge me. I set one plate. One glass. One candle. Not for romance. To hold a vigil for the woman I used to be. Then I blew out the candle and turned on all the lights. Because I didn\u2019t want to live in mourning anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Over time, I converted the ground floor into a workspace for women who were going through divorces, financial fraud, or abuse that left no visible bruises. It wasn\u2019t a formal shelter. It wasn\u2019t charity. It was a table. Coffee. Internet. Legal contacts. A printer. A sofa where they could cry without anyone saying \u201cdon\u2019t make a scene.\u201d I named it \u201cCasa Salas.\u201d My last name. My mother\u2019s. The only one that never tried to kick me out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes women arrived with folders in grocery bags. Others with babies. Others with dark sunglasses. One arrived saying: \u201cI don\u2019t know if what\u2019s happening to me counts.\u201d I heard that phrase many times. I always replied the same: \u201cIf it\u2019s taking away your peace, it counts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A year later, the garden bloomed again. I had let the bougainvillea die because Julian didn\u2019t like leaves on the ground. I planted three. Purple. Loud. Impossible to ignore. Like I wanted to learn to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One afternoon, the doorbell rang. The camera showed Jamie. She was holding a baby in her arms. I didn\u2019t let her in immediately. I opened the intercom. \u201cWhat do you need?\u201d \u201cI just wanted to thank you. And to apologize properly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at the child. He was sleeping with his mouth open, oblivious to all the foolish adults who almost used him as a weapon. I went out to the gate. I didn\u2019t invite her into the living room. Some boundaries are also for health.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jamie told me her son was named Mateo, that the real father recognized him after many tests, and that she was working. \u201cI didn\u2019t come to ask for anything,\u201d she said. \u201cI just wanted to tell you that when you gave me that water, I understood that I was being used and using another woman at the same time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I nodded. \u201cHopefully Mateo learns that sooner than we did.\u201d She cried. I didn\u2019t. But when she left, I left a bag of diapers at the security gate for them to give to her. Not for her. For the baby who wasn\u2019t to blame, even though that phrase had been used against me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes people ask if I\u2019ve fallen in love again. Not yet. Maybe someday. Maybe not. I learned that solitude isn\u2019t the monster they sold me. The monster was sleeping next to someone who planned to take your house. The monster was a family sitting in your dining room discussing where you should go. The monster was a mother-in-law asking for generosity while carrying a plan to erase you in her purse. Solitude, compared to that, is a clean room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now every night I check the front door from my phone. Not out of fear. Out of pleasure. I see my name in the system: Owner: Veronica Salas. Access authorized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes I laugh to myself. My mother would have said that one shouldn\u2019t need a machine to remember what\u2019s hers. But she also would have loved the click of the lock. That click that says: Who doesn\u2019t respect does not enter here. No lie is installed here. No one sits here to judge the owner of these walls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The house is still standing. More mine than ever. Not because I kicked Julian out. But because I finally let myself in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cDo you also want me to tell you who is sitting in the cab of the truck holding a folder of property deeds in their hand?\u201d Julian… <\/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-3135","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3135","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=3135"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3135\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3138,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3135\/revisions\/3138"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3135"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3135"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3135"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}