\u201cNicholas isn\u2019t my son,\u201d Daniela said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The room went entirely silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Somewhere, a monitor beeped. Someone passed by pushing a gurney down the hallway. I felt like all of it was coming from very far away, as if my head had been forced underwater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daniela covered her mouth with her hand, weeping. \u201cHe isn\u2019t my son, Marilyn. He\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The blue gown felt like ice against my skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at Sam. Then at Mrs. Evelyn. Neither of them denied it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Right then, I understood that there are silences that murder you far more than any confession ever could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI only have one daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Evelyn crossed herself again, but this time, her fingers were trembling. \u201cMarilyn, God works in mysterious ways.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you dare drag God into this!\u201d I screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The chief doctor slammed the door to the room shut. She ordered the nurse to immediately contact the transplant committee, social services, and the hospital\u2019s legal department.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe surgery is officially canceled,\u201d she announced in a voice that left zero room for argument. \u201cNobody touches this woman until we clear everything out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sam took a step toward me. \u201cMarilyn, listen to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I backed away. \u201cIf you take another step, I\u2019ll scream.\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s our son.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The word \u201cour\u201d<\/em> felt like acid dripping on my skin. \u201cWhich son, Sam? The one you hid from me for eight years? The one you put under your mistress\u2019s name? The one you used to rip a kidney out of me without ever telling me the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He wept. But it didn\u2019t move me. I had learned that some men only cry when they run completely out of lies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela sank into a chair, shaking. The woman with the red nails no longer looked like a mistress or an enemy. She looked like a collapsed house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI didn\u2019t know in the beginning,\u201d she said in a broken whisper. \u201cSam told me you didn\u2019t want him. That you had surrendered him because you were too tired, because you guys couldn\u2019t afford to raise another child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLie,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The word came out fractured. Because a massive, ancient wound was tearing wide open inside of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Eight years ago, I had been pregnant. I never talked about it. Not even to Chloe. It had been an incredibly difficult pregnancy\u2014severe preeclampsia, blinding headaches, intense swelling. Early one morning, I was rushed to the county hospital. I remembered blinding white lights, frantic voices, an oxygen mask, and Sam signing documents because I couldn\u2019t even lift my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I woke up, my womb was empty. Mrs. Evelyn was sitting right by my bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She told me, \u201cThe baby was stillborn.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n They didn\u2019t let me see him. They told me it was better not to, that his tiny body was in a terrible condition, and that I should just be grateful to be alive. I wept for months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sam would tell me, \u201cJust get over it, Marilyn. We have Chloe.\u201d<\/em> And I believed him. Because when someone tears a child away from you, sometimes you don\u2019t even have the emotional strength left to be suspicious.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The doctor took me by the arm. \u201cMrs. Marilyn, I need you to sit down.\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d \u201cYes, you can. But not alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe arrived half an hour later with Attorney Carmina. My daughter came running in, still wearing her high school uniform, her face filled with sheer terror.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hugged me tight, and I completely broke down. I refused to cry in front of Sam, but I wept in front of my daughter because she was my only safe place left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d Chloe asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nobody answered. Attorney Carmina reviewed the files in absolute silence. She didn\u2019t look shocked like I did. Her expression hardened into pure iron.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI want certified copies of every single record,\u201d she announced. \u201cAnd let it be formally documented that my client had zero knowledge of who the actual recipient was.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hospital staff moved with frantic urgency. It wasn\u2019t like the regular appointments where you wait for hours in hunger and pain. This time, everyone was in a rush. A rush to cover themselves, a rush to investigate, a rush to separate liabilities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They led me to a private room. Sam tried to follow us inside. The attorney blocked his path.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou aren\u2019t passing through.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m her husband.\u201d \u201cToday, you are a criminal suspect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mrs. Evelyn sat far away, whispering prayers. I felt a violent urge to rip the rosary out of her hands and ask her exactly how many Our Fathers<\/em> it takes to justify selling a child to another woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t do it. I bottled up the rage. I was going to need every ounce of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I finally saw Nicholas, he was fast asleep in a pediatric bed. His skin was yellowish, his lips parched, and an IV line was taped to his small hand. His dinosaur blanket was neatly folded at his side. The exact same one I had seen that day in Pasadena.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stepped closer, barely breathing. He had Chloe\u2019s nose. My father\u2019s chin. And on his left earlobe, a tiny mole identical to mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I covered my mouth. \u201cMy boy,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t wrap him in a hug because I was terrified of hurting his fragile frame. I didn\u2019t kiss him because I felt like I didn\u2019t have the legal right to yet. What a cruel, twisted thought. They had stolen my son from me, and yet I still felt like I had to ask for permission just to touch him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela stood on the other side of the bed. \u201cI raised him,\u201d she said softly. \u201cAnd I gave birth to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t say it with hatred. I said it because both truths were right there, breathing over a sick child.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She burst into tears. \u201cI didn\u2019t know they took him from you like that. I swear to God I didn\u2019t.\u201d \u201cWhen did you find out?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela lowered her gaze. \u201cA year ago. When his kidneys started failing. Sam got drunk and said the only guaranteed match would be you, because you were his real mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt my blood turn to fire. \u201cAnd you stayed quiet?\u201d \u201cI was terrified of losing him.\u201d \u201cI had already lost him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela closed her eyes. She had no defense left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That afternoon, we walked out of the hospital without a surgery, but with a massive war on our hands. Attorney Carmina took us directly to the District Attorney\u2019s Office, then to the Bureau of Vital Statistics, and formally subpoenaed the delivery records from eight years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The city moved outside as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In East LA, the food trucks kept selling street tacos and fresh drinks. Along Whittier Boulevard, the city buses were packed, people boarded carrying grocery bags, and vendors shouted down the block.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I watched everything from the window of the cab and thought: my son was alive this entire time while I was making tamales just to survive.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n My son turned one. Two. Three. Eight. And I was bringing flowers to an empty grave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because yes, there was a grave. A tiny headstone in a cemetery belonging to Sam\u2019s family, where Mrs. Evelyn took me once and told me never to return because it \u201copened up old wounds.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Now I finally understood. There were no wounds to open. There were crimes to hide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The genetic testing took several grueling days that felt like centuries. Meanwhile, Nicholas\u2019s condition worsened. I went to the hospital every single day. Sam wasn\u2019t allowed anywhere near me because the attorney had successfully obtained an emergency protective order after presenting the evidence of the physical slap, the audio recordings, and the text messages. Mrs. Evelyn was legally barred from intimidating me as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I still saw them in the hallways. He sat there, hollow and broken. She stared at the floor, looking older, smaller, but not an ounce less guilty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nicholas woke up on the third afternoon. He saw me standing right beside his bed. \u201cAre you the tamale lady?\u201d he asked softly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My chest broke into pieces. \u201cYes, sweetie.\u201d \u201cMy dad bought a pork one from you once.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My dad.<\/em> I swallowed fire. \u201cI made them.\u201d \u201cThey were really good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled as best as I could. \u201cWhen you get out of here, I\u2019ll make you as many as you want.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked at me with an intense exhaustion. \u201cAm I going to die?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The question shattered me. Chloe, standing on the other side of the bed, let out a heavy sob. I took the little boy\u2019s hand in mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, my love. But I\u2019m going to fight like there is no other option in this world.\u201d \u201cWhy do you call me \u2018my love\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t know how to answer him. Because my body already knew it. Because my blood recognized him long before the paperwork did. Because eight long years hadn\u2019t been enough to sever that biological cord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt just slipped out,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He closed his eyes. \u201cI don\u2019t mind it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The official DNA results arrived on a Monday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was at my food stand, mixing the masa with trembling hands. The steam from the pot drenched my face. People were lining up outside the elementary school, ordering their breakfast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My phone rang. It was Carmina. \u201cMarilyn, sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat down on an upturned plastic bucket. \u201cTell me.\u201d \u201cNicholas is your biological son. The match is conclusive. He is also Sam\u2019s child.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t scream. I didn\u2019t cry. I just sunk my hands back into the warm masa and felt the world hand me back a little boy with a fever, with deep fear, with failing kidneys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat happens now?\u201d \u201cNow, we go after every single one of them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The federal and state investigation completely uncovered the rot. The medical files from my delivery room had altered pages. My signature had been forged on a \u201cvoluntary relinquishment\u201d consent form. There was a fraudulent death certificate for a newborn with no legible footprints. A retired hospital clerk formally testified that Mrs. Evelyn had paid cash to manipulate the records. A nurse from the old ward remembered that the baby had left the room alive, in an incubator, and that later \u201ca family member\u201d had claimed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That family member was Daniela. Or so she had been led to believe. Sam had brought the baby to Pasadena and registered the birth certificate weeks later. True father. Fraudulent mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d I asked Sam when our paths crossed at the courthouse. \u201cJust tell me why.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His eyes were completely bloodshot. \u201cDaniela couldn\u2019t have children.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stared at him, unable to comprehend his mind. \u201cSo you stole mine?\u201d \u201cYou were in terrible condition, Marilyn. The doctor said another child would destroy you financially. We were already drowning in debt. My mom said it was for the best.\u201d \u201cThe best for whom?!\u201d He couldn\u2019t answer. \u201cYou let me bury an empty box, Sam.\u201d He completely doubled over, trembling. \u201cI didn\u2019t know how to tell you after that.\u201d \u201cNo. You just didn\u2019t want to lose your house, your wife, and your mistress. That was your real tragedy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned and walked away before I could spit in his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The hospital\u2019s ethics and transplant board reviewed Nicholas\u2019s case from scratch. The chief doctor\u2014the same one who had halted the procedure\u2014painstakingly explained to me that a living organ donation had to be entirely voluntary, informed, free of any coercion, and that a donor could legally back out at any given second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou are under zero obligation,\u201d she told me gently. \u201cNot even as his biological mother. Not out of guilt. Not for anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought about Chloe. I thought about my food stand. I thought about my exhausted, overworked body. I thought about Sam saying: \u201cIt\u2019s a kidney, not your heart.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Then I thought about Nicholas asking if he was going to die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI want to donate,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe burst into tears. \u201cMom, no.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I wrapped my arms around her in the hospital corridor, right next to a vending machine that smelled of burnt coffee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHoney, this time I<\/em> am the one choosing. Nobody is tricking me. Nobody is forcing me. Nobody is using me. I am choosing to save my son.\u201d \u201cBut you\u2019re my mom too.\u201d \u201cAnd that\u2019s exactly why I\u2019m going to make it out of that operating room. Because I still have plenty of years left to nag you.\u201d She let out a tearful laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The surgery was scheduled a few weeks later, once the entire file was legally cleared and verified. Nicholas was told the truth gradually, with the careful guidance of a child psychologist. We didn\u2019t just throw the story onto him like a heavy stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One afternoon, he looked up and asked me, \u201cSo you\u2019re my tummy mom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laughed and cried at the exact same time. \u201cYes, I am. And Daniela was your house mom.\u201d \u201cAm I allowed to love both of you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That single question saved me from ever becoming bitter. \u201cOf course you are, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela begged for my forgiveness many times. I didn\u2019t give it to her fully. Not then. Maybe never. But I allowed her to say goodbye to the boy before the surgery because Nicholas loved her. And I wasn\u2019t going to be like them. I was never going to use a child\u2019s love as a weapon to punish adults.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the morning of the transplant, they put me in the blue gown once again. But I was not the same woman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This time, I read every single page of the paperwork. I asked about every single detail. I signed my name with a completely firm hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The doctor touched my shoulder. \u201cReady?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked at Chloe, who was holding my purse and a tiny prayer card. Outside in the hallway, my friends had brought a giant container of coffee for the waiting families. A neighbor from East LA had showed up with breakfast. The lady from the shop across the street had sent food for the nursing staff. In public hospitals, shared pain forms its own beautiful community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cReady,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before they wheeled me in, Nicholas called out to me from his gurney. \u201cMarilyn.\u201d I leaned over him. \u201cYes, sweetie?\u201d \u201cAre you going to teach me how to make tamales after this?\u201d I kissed his forehead. Finally. Without asking for anyone\u2019s permission. \u201cAfter this, you\u2019re going to get completely sick of corn masa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The operation lasted for several grueling hours. I woke up to intense pain, a raging thirst, and a strange, physical sensation of emptiness in my side. Chloe was sitting right there, her eyes swollen from crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNicholas?\u201d I managed to whisper. \u201cHe made it through fine, Mom. The kidney is working.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I closed my eyes and let the tears fall silently. Not for Sam. Not for Evelyn. But for that little boy who had returned to my life\u2014not as some flawless, cinematic miracle, but as a raw truth that had carved its way through my own flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The months that followed were a long road. Nicholas recovered slowly. His face finally regained its natural color. He began to walk down the hospital corridors in his small gown and face mask, meticulously counting his steps as if every single one were a victory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I learned to live with one kidney. I learned to rest when I was tired, to drink plenty of water, to attend my follow-up appointments, and to let Chloe carry the heavy pots even when I stubbornly complained about it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sam was criminally prosecuted for forgery, child abduction, grand fraud, and domestic violence. Mrs. Evelyn fell right alongside him, though at first, she tried to play the role of a sick, fragile elderly woman. The federal judge was entirely unmoved by her rosaries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Daniela lost legal custody, but she was granted strictly supervised visitation rights. Later, when the forensic timeline proved she hadn\u2019t participated in the initial abduction but had simply hidden the truth upon discovering it, the family court placed strict legal parameters on her involvement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nicholas was legally recognized as my son. The day they amended his birth certificate, we walked out of the government records building, and I bought ice cream for the kids. He chose lime. Chloe chose mango. I chose vanilla.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat is my name now?\u201d he asked, looking at the document. \u201cNicholas Lopez Ramirez, if you want it to be.\u201d He thought about it for a moment. \u201cCan I still keep Salas too? Daniela will be sad if I drop it completely.\u201d Chloe messed up his hair with her hand. \u201cYou have more last names than homework assignments.\u201d He burst out laughing. That laugh was the first normal, untainted thing I had heard in months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We returned to East LA on an evening when the sky turned a deep, glowing orange. Near Whittier Boulevard, the local street vendors were already lighting up their stoves. The air smelled of grilled corn, toasted salsa, and fresh pastries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside my tiny house, we made room. Chloe surrendered a shelf in her closet. I bought a small twin bed on an installment plan. Nicholas walked through the front door carrying his dinosaur blanket, a lingering trace of fear in his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAm I allowed to stay here?\u201d he whispered. I knelt down right in front of him. \u201cIn this house, nobody ever gives you away.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night, the three of us ate dinner together around the small kitchen table. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. But we were finally at the same table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chloe lifted her water glass. \u201cA toast. To the most expensive kidney in East LA.\u201d \u201cChloe!\u201d I scolded her, trying to look stern. Nicholas burst into loud laughter, and I did too. After so much tragedy, laughing felt almost like a disrespect to the grief we had carried. But then I understood it wasn\u2019t. Laughing was how we finally won.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A year later, I went back to selling tamales outside the elementary school. But I was no longer alone. Chloe would help me set up before her college classes. Nicholas would arrange the napkins on the counter and proudly announce to the customers that he was the head of \u201cquality control.\u201d<\/em> The neighborhood knew bits and pieces of the story, the way rumors travel\u2014with gossip, deep compassion, and wild exaggerations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes a customer would say, \u201cLook at that, Mrs. Marilyn, it\u2019s so beautiful that you saved that boy.\u201d I would look over at Nicholas, meticulously counting change with an immense seriousness. \u201cHe saved me right back,\u201d I\u2019d tell them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the spring festivals filled the streets of East LA with crowds of people, street vendors, and families walking under the warm sun, I took my children out to join the community. Nicholas held my left hand. Chloe held my right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Standing there amidst the music, the laughter, and the crowds, I thought about my own crucifixion. The calculated lie. The empty grave. The blue hospital gown. The organ they had tried to steal from my body through psychological manipulation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But I also thought about the resurrection. Not the one written in church books. My own. The resurrection of a mother who believed she had lost her baby to the grave, only to find him eight years later in a pediatric ward, waiting for a piece of her physical body just to stay alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night, as we closed down the food stand, I found Nicholas fast asleep on a plastic chair, tightly wrapped in his dinosaur blanket. Chloe was packing up the empty steamer pot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMom,\u201d she said softly, looking at me. \u201cDo you regret any of it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I felt the faint ache of the scar beneath my blouse. It still throbbed whenever the weather turned cold. Then I looked over at my son, breathing peacefully in his sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo,\u201d I told her. \u201cNot a single thing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought about Sam. About Evelyn. About Daniela. About all the stolen, empty years. \u201cI regret trusting the people who didn\u2019t deserve it,\u201d I said. \u201cBut I will never regret loving the ones who do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We arrived home exhausted. Before heading to bed, Nicholas paused at the doorway of my room. \u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The word came out quiet. New. Taut with a gentle, clumsy hesitation. I stayed completely still. I didn\u2019t want to startle it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, sweetie?\u201d \u201cThank you for giving me your kidney.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I walked over and gently tucked his hair behind his ear. \u201cThank you for giving me back my heart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiled, not fully understanding the weight of the words. But one day, he would.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turned off the light. The house settled into absolute silence, with the familiar sounds of East LA drifting in through the open window: a dog barking down the lane, a late delivery truck braking at the corner, life insisting on moving forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I laid my head down on the pillow with an aching body and a completely peaceful soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sam believed he could carve me open like a piece of meat. Mrs. Evelyn believed my body was worth less because I sold food on the street. Daniela believed that staying silent wasn\u2019t equivalent to theft.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were all entirely wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because I didn\u2019t give that kidney to a lie. I gave it to my son. And when a mother makes her choice with the truth held firmly in her hand, absolutely no one can ever use her love as a knife again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cNicholas isn\u2019t my son,\u201d Daniela said. The room went entirely silent. Somewhere, a monitor beeped. Someone passed by pushing a gurney down the hallway. I felt like… <\/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-3563","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3563","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=3563"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3563\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3566,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3563\/revisions\/3566"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3563"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3563"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3563"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}