{"id":3725,"date":"2026-06-08T06:48:59","date_gmt":"2026-06-08T06:48:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/?p=3725"},"modified":"2026-06-08T06:49:00","modified_gmt":"2026-06-08T06:49:00","slug":"my-coworker-gave-me-muffins-every-day-and-i-gave-them-all-to-a-stray-cat-after-a-month-the-police-suddenly-cordoned-off-the-entire-planter-on-the-street-median","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/?p=3725","title":{"rendered":"MY COWORKER GAVE ME MUFFINS EVERY DAY, AND I GAVE THEM ALL TO A STRAY CAT. AFTER A MONTH, THE POLICE SUDDENLY CORDONED OFF THE ENTIRE PLANTER ON THE STREET MEDIAN."},"content":{"rendered":"\n

MY COWORKER GAVE ME MUFFINS EVERY DAY, AND I GAVE THEM ALL TO A STRAY CAT. AFTER A MONTH, THE POLICE SUDDENLY CORDONED OFF THE ENTIRE PLANTER ON THE STREET MEDIAN.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My coworker, Chloe, arrived punctually every morning with the muffins. She said they were freshly baked, straight from her mom\u2019s kitchen, as a token of her affection. Since I don\u2019t like heavy pastries, I always told her to her face that they were delicious, but as soon as she turned around, I gave them to a stray cat that lived by the fire escape. This lasted a whole month. Until last week. While the landscaper was cleaning the plants in the median, his shovel hit something hard. He bent down to look\u2026 and stumbled back three steps. He even dropped his phone. Half an hour later, the whole area was surrounded by police. Someone pointed toward our office window and said: \u2014\u201dThey were throwing things from up there!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1. The Mysterious Muffins<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chloe brought muffins again. They came in a small cooler bag, still warm. She said her aunt had made them, freshly baked as always. I smiled, accepted them, thanked her, and said I felt bad her aunt went through so much trouble. It was day thirty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chloe\u2019s desk was right across from mine. She was a quiet, shy girl. A month ago, she suddenly started bringing me breakfast every day. They were small, homemade muffins, carefully wrapped. To be honest\u2026 I didn\u2019t really like them. But I couldn\u2019t refuse her kindness, either. The first day, I took a bite in front of her and said they were tasty. Her face lit up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since then, it became a daily ritual. I\u2019d accept the muffins, wait for her to turn around, and quietly leave my seat. Behind the office kitchen, there was a door leading out to the fire escape. In the corner lived a stray cat, skinny and skittish. I\u2019d put the muffin on a small paper plate for him. He always looked at me cautiously before eating. Afterward, he would crawl back into a cardboard box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This repeated for a month, no matter the weather. I fed the cat. Chloe fed me. A strange chain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Until last week. I left the muffin as usual\u2026 but the cat didn\u2019t show up. I waited a bit. Nothing. I thought he was sleeping and went back to the office.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the afternoon, there was a commotion downstairs. I looked out the window. The landscaper, Mr. Martin, was in the middle of a crowd, pale, pointing at the spot he had just dug up. That median was right in front of our building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police arrived quickly and put up \u201cCrime Scene\u201d tape. People murmured: \u2014\u201dWhat happened?\u201d \u2014\u201dThey say he hit something hard while digging.\u201d \u2014\u201dWhen he saw it, he almost passed out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart started pounding. That planter\u2026 over the last few days, it had changed. The plants that used to be green had suddenly dried up. The leaves turned yellow and fell off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Right at that moment. A police officer looked up at the building. A woman pointed toward our office window. A man yelled: \u2014\u201dThey were throwing everything from up there!\u201d I felt my blood run cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2. The Interrogation<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It didn\u2019t take long for them to come looking for me. Two police officers, a man and a woman. They took me to the conference room. \u2014\u201dMrs. Ella, don\u2019t worry, we just want to ask you a few questions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They said they checked the security cameras. For a month, every day at 7:45 a.m., I had stopped in the exact same spot for over a minute. My hands started to sweat. That was the spot where I fed the cat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dWhat were you feeding it?\u201d \u2014\u201dMuffins.\u201d \u2014\u201dWho gave them to you?\u201d \u2014\u201dChloe, my coworker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They looked at each other. \u2014\u201dCan we see one?\u201d I went to get that day\u2019s muffin. They didn\u2019t touch it directly. They put it in an evidence bag wearing gloves. I got nervous. \u2014\u201dThey\u2019re just normal muffins\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The officer stared at me intently. \u2014\u201dWe found toxic chemicals in the soil of the planter.\u201d \u2014\u201dAnd what we found buried\u2026 was right under the dead plants.\u201d \u2014\u201dWhat did you find?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t answer. He just said: \u2014\u201dAre you sure what you were feeding the cat was just flour and sugar?\u201d I froze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3. The Mystery Emerges<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I left the room not knowing how I managed to walk. Flour and sugar\u2026 was that really all? Chloe looked exactly the same, sitting there in silence. But for the first time\u2026 that silence scared me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, I told my husband, David, everything. I thought he would be worried. But he wasn\u2019t. \u2014\u201dIt\u2019s nothing,\u201d he said, turning back to the TV. \u2014\u201dIt\u2019s standard procedure.\u201d \u2014\u201dBut there are chemicals, and the cat disappeared!\u201d \u2014\u201dYou\u2019re overreacting,\u201d he replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His reaction was cold. Too cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t sleep. I checked my text messages with Chloe. Always the same: \u2014\u201dI left your breakfast on your desk.\u201d Like a machine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had an idea. I went to the fridge. I took out a muffin I had saved a few days ago. I hid it in the freezer, tucked underneath some frozen sausages. If there was something weird in it\u2026 that would be my evidence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went back to bed. Just as I was about to lie down\u2026 My phone buzzed. An unknown number. I opened the message. Just one sentence:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo not eat anything else that comes from Chloe. Your husband knows.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read the sentence three times. The room felt suffocating. David was still in bed, his back to me, breathing evenly, as if the ground hadn\u2019t just opened up beneath my feet. The blue light of the phone illuminated my hands, and for the first time, I noticed they were shaking just like when I saw the yellow police tape around the planter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked toward the freezer. The muffin was in there. Wrapped in a bag, hidden under the sausages, completely still as if it couldn\u2019t hurt me. But suddenly my kitchen, my house, my sleeping husband\u2014everything felt alien.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I typed: \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/em> The answer came immediately. \u201cThe cat is alive. I have him. If you want to know the truth, go tomorrow to the Farmer\u2019s Market, at the flower entrance, at seven. Bring the muffin. Don\u2019t tell David.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt my knees go weak. The cat was alive. So he hadn\u2019t disappeared. Someone had taken him from the fire escape. Someone knew about the muffins. Someone had seen more than what was on the cameras.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hid my phone under my pillow and sat up until dawn. Outside, the garbage truck went by, then a delivery truck rumbling down the street. For the first time in a month, the sounds of the morning made me nauseous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

David got up at six. \u2014\u201dDid you sleep?\u201d he asked without looking at me. \u2014\u201dA little.\u201d \u2014\u201dYou should stop overthinking. The police just look for culprits to close cases quickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I watched him as he poured his coffee. David never drank black coffee without sugar. That morning he drank it black, bitter, in a weird rush. We had been married eight years and I knew his little tells: when he lied, he scratched his left wrist. He scratched it three times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dI\u2019m going to be late today,\u201d he said. \u201cMeeting with suppliers.\u201d \u2014\u201dOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t ask about the muffin. He didn\u2019t ask about the cat. He didn\u2019t ask if I was scared. That was what scared me the most.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he left, I ran to the freezer. I put the muffin in a lunchbox, wrapped it in a scarf, and left without eating breakfast. I took a taxi because I didn\u2019t want David to see my transit card history. The driver was listening to the news on the radio: traffic on the Kennedy Expressway, a lane closure on Lake Shore Drive, light rain in the afternoon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chicago carried on as if nothing was wrong. The stalls were opening. Office workers rushed by with coffee cups. A woman stepped onto the sidewalk carrying grocery bags. And I had on my lap a muffin that might not be food, but evidence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I arrived at the Farmer\u2019s Market before seven. The smell hit me all at once: damp flowers, potting soil, green leaves, fresh coffee, gasoline from the delivery trucks. There were bouquets of roses wrapped in newspaper, clouds of baby\u2019s breath, huge sunflowers, and heaps of bright autumn marigolds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood at the flower entrance. A man in a cap approached with a cardboard box in his arms. Inside was the stray cat. Skinny. Scared. Alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had a bandage on one little paw and his eyes were wider than normal. When he saw me, he meowed softly, as if scolding me and forgiving me at the same time. \u2014\u201dDid you text me?\u201d I asked. The man shook his head. \u2014\u201dElla.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From between the stalls, Mr. Martin, the landscaper, emerged. He came over with his hat in his hand and a tired face. \u2014\u201dSorry for scaring you, Mrs. Ella.\u201d \u2014\u201dYou have my number?\u201d \u2014\u201dI wrote it down from a business card you dropped on the stairs weeks ago. I didn\u2019t want to get involved until I saw the soil.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I approached the box. \u2014\u201dWhat happened to the cat?\u201d \u2014\u201dI found him lying next to the median. He wasn\u2019t dead, but he was in bad shape. I took him to my niece, who works with an animal rescue out in Naperville. They ran basic tests. He was poisoned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt my stomach drop. \u2014\u201dFrom the muffins.\u201d Mr. Martin looked at the lunchbox. \u2014\u201dForensics needs to look at that, not me. But there\u2019s something worse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled a printed photograph from his bag. It was of the median before the police arrived. The dirt was dug up. Between dry roots, there was an old, rusty metal box, like a tackle box. That must have been the hard thing his shovel hit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dThe police took it,\u201d he said. \u201cInside were small vials, gloves, plastic spoons, and bags of powder. There were also muffin wrappers, exactly like the ones you got.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The noise of the market faded out. I saw a girl arranging bouquets, a kid carrying buckets, a vendor slicing bread. Everything normal. Everything alive. And I felt like I had been walking on a grave for a month.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dWhy did you warn me?\u201d Mr. Martin lowered his voice. \u2014\u201dBecause I saw your husband.\u201d I lost my breath. \u2014\u201dWhat?\u201d \u2014\u201dThree times. Before dawn. He was leaving something in the planter. I thought it was trash bags or potting soil. Once I waved at him and he pretended not to know me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I held onto the edge of a stall. \u2014\u201dDavid never comes to my office.\u201d \u2014\u201dWell, he did.\u201d I opened the lunchbox and showed him the frozen muffin. \u2014\u201dI have this.\u201d Mr. Martin looked around. \u2014\u201dDon\u2019t give it to just anyone. Let\u2019s go to the police station.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We didn\u2019t make it. Halfway there, my phone started ringing. David. I didn\u2019t answer. It rang again. And again. Then a text came. \u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/em> Then another. \u201cDon\u2019t be stupid, Ella.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I froze. Mr. Martin saw my face. \u2014\u201dTurn off the phone.\u201d I did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We took a taxi to the precinct. During the ride, the cat was in the box on my lap. I put my hand close, without touching him. He sniffed my fingers and closed his eyes. I had used him so I wouldn\u2019t be rude. He had saved me without knowing it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the station, the same police officer from the day before met us. Her name was Detective Miller. When she saw the muffin and Mr. Martin\u2019s photo, her face changed. \u2014\u201dThis is no longer an informal interview.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They took me to a small room. There was a camera in the corner, a metal table, and a fan that made more noise than air. The detective asked me to hand over the muffin carefully and called forensics. Then she stared at me. \u2014\u201dMrs. Ella, we need you to tell us if your husband had any motive to harm you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My first reaction was to say no. Because you always want to defend the wedding photo. The rented house. The vacations in Florida when there was still money. The Sunday brunches and warm pancakes. You want to defend the version of your life where sleeping next to someone means being safe. But I thought of his bitter coffee. His wrist. His cold voice. And something broke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dWe have a life insurance policy,\u201d I said. \u201cHe took it out four months ago. He insisted a lot. He said it was in case something happened to me on my way to work.\u201d The detective wrote it down. \u2014\u201dAnything else?\u201d I swallowed hard. \u2014\u201dA year ago, he wanted us to sell my mom\u2019s apartment, the one I inherited. I refused. It\u2019s in Logan Square. It\u2019s the only thing that\u2019s truly mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The detective looked up. \u2014\u201dAnd Chloe?\u201d \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t know. She\u2019s my coworker. Quiet. She always seemed nervous.\u201d \u2014\u201dDoes your husband know her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was going to say no. But I remembered a company dinner, six months ago. David had come to pick me up. Chloe was at the door, waiting for an Uber. He greeted her way too familiarly for someone he had supposedly just met. I covered my mouth. \u2014\u201dYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Detective Miller didn\u2019t seem surprised. \u2014\u201dWe found deleted messages on Chloe\u2019s phone. We don\u2019t have everything yet, but there are conversations with a number registered to your husband.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I closed my eyes. There it was. The blow didn\u2019t come from Chloe. It came from my bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They let me call my sister, Sarah. She arrived an hour later, hair messy, still wearing her nurse\u2019s scrubs, and a fury trembling on her lips. \u2014\u201dYou\u2019re coming with me,\u201d she said before even saying hello. I didn\u2019t argue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we walked out, Detective Miller stopped us. \u2014\u201dDon\u2019t go back to your house alone. We\u2019re going to request a protective order. And we need you to come in tomorrow to identify some objects.\u201d I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But that night I didn\u2019t make it to Sarah\u2019s place. David was waiting for us outside. I don\u2019t know how he knew. Maybe he tracked my location before I turned off my phone. Maybe he knew my habits better than I wanted to admit. He was leaning against his car, in his usual shirt and a smile that didn\u2019t reach his eyes. \u2014\u201dElla, we need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sarah stepped in front of me. \u2014\u201dStay away.\u201d David didn\u2019t even look at her. \u2014\u201dDon\u2019t make a scene. You and I can fix this.\u201d \u2014\u201dFix what?\u201d I asked. \u201cThe poisoned cat? The muffins? The buried box? Or the life insurance?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His smile vanished. I finally saw the real man. He wasn\u2019t cold. He was furious. \u2014\u201dYou don\u2019t understand anything,\u201d he said. \u201cI owed money.\u201d \u2014\u201dTo who?\u201d \u2014\u201dTo people who don\u2019t wait.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I let out a breathless laugh. \u2014\u201dSo you decided to kill me.\u201d \u2014\u201dYou weren\u2019t going to suffer. It was just a little bit. A little bit every day. It would look like an illness. Chloe just had to give you breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sarah let out a curse. I couldn\u2019t speak. David took a step toward me. \u2014\u201dBut you couldn\u2019t even do that right. The story of your life, Ella. Faking it to look good, hiding what you don\u2019t like. You gave it all to the damn cat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The cat meowed from inside the box, as if he understood. Detective Miller appeared behind him with two officers. \u2014\u201dDavid Ellis, you\u2019re under arrest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

David turned around too late. He tried to run toward the car, but Mr. Martin stepped out from the corner and blocked his path with an empty bucket he got from who knows where. David tripped. He fell to his knees on the sidewalk. The officers grabbed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People started looking. A food cart vendor stopped selling. A delivery guy slowed down his scooter. A kid asked if they were filming a TV show. David searched for my eyes while they put the handcuffs on him. \u2014\u201dThis is your fault too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The phrase pierced me. For a second, I almost believed him. Almost. Then I looked at the cat. I looked at Sarah. I looked at Mr. Martin. I looked at the detective holding a folder full of evidence. And for the first time, I didn\u2019t lower my head. \u2014\u201dNo,\u201d I said. \u201cThis time, you didn\u2019t break me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, Chloe gave her statement. I saw her from the hallway at the precinct. She had no makeup on, her hair tied back, and her eyes puffy. She looked younger, almost like a child dressed as an adult. She asked to see me. I agreed, but with the detective present.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014\u201dHe threatened me,\u201d she said as soon as she sat down. \u201cMy brother owed him money. David said if I didn\u2019t bring you the muffins, they were going to hurt him. I thought it was just something to make you sick, to scare you, not to\u2026\u201d She broke down. I looked at her without comforting her. \u2014\u201dFor a month you smiled at me while handing me poison.\u201d \u2014\u201dI know.\u201d \u2014\u201dFor a month you saw that I wasn\u2019t eating them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chloe looked up. \u2014\u201dAt first I didn\u2019t know. Then I followed you and saw the cat. I wanted to stop, but David said if I spoke up he would say the whole thing was my idea. I buried some wrappers in the planter because I didn\u2019t know what to do with them. Then he put the box there. I didn\u2019t know Mr. Martin was going to dig.\u201d \u2014\u201dAnd the text message?\u201d \u2014\u201dThat was me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The detective looked at her. \u2014\u201dThat doesn\u2019t let you off the hook.\u201d \u2014\u201dI don\u2019t want to be let off the hook,\u201d Chloe whispered. \u201cI just didn\u2019t want her to die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood up. I had no forgiveness to give her. Maybe someday I would have something else. Compassion, distance, I don\u2019t know. But not forgiveness. \u2014\u201dThe cat almost died because of my politeness,\u201d I told her. \u201cAnd I almost died because of your fear.\u201d She lowered her head. \u2014\u201dI\u2019m sorry.\u201d \u2014\u201dYou\u2019d better tell the whole truth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And she did. With her statement, the recovered messages, the frozen muffin, and what was found in the planter, the story went from being office gossip to a criminal case. The company closed for two days. My coworkers talked about me in hushed tones, as if I were the crime scene and not the survivor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The median remained cordoned off for longer. The dead plants were removed in special bags. Mr. Martin said the soil needed to heal, too. I liked that idea. That even dirt, when contaminated, deserves someone to clean it patiently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I never went back to my desk. Sarah took me to her apartment in Pilsen. I slept on her couch for three weeks, with the cat in a cardboard box next to me. I named him Muffin, because Sarah said dark humor is also good medicine. Muffin started gaining weight. At first, he ate very little. Then he took over the armchair, a blanket, and my pillow. Every time I cried, he approached with that indifference of cats who don\u2019t hug, but keep you company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A month later I returned to the building. Not to work. To resign. The stairwell smelled the same, of dampness and bleach. The kitchen still had its old coffee maker. On my desk was a mug that said \u201cToday is going to be a great day.\u201d I threw it in the trash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went down to the median before leaving. Mr. Martin was planting lavender and rosemary. He said they hold up better against the city, the dust, the neglect. The soil looked dark, turned over, like a fresh scar. \u2014\u201dAnd the cat?\u201d he asked. \u2014\u201dHe\u2019s not a stray anymore.\u201d He smiled. \u2014\u201dSo something good came out of all that garbage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the hole where they had found the box. I thought of all the days I accepted a muffin just to avoid making things awkward. Of all the times I said \u201cthank you, it\u2019s delicious\u201d with a mouth full of lies. How a woman can spend half her life avoiding conflict and still end up in the middle of one she didn\u2019t choose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That afternoon I went to the Farmer\u2019s Market. I bought yellow flowers\u2014not for a funeral, but for a new home. I also bought a small clay pot and two mugs. The vendor told me that clay cures best if you wash it with hot water and patience. That seemed fair to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I walked out, I got a text from an unknown number. It was David, from who knows where, using who knows what phone. \u201cYou won\u2019t make it without me.\u201d<\/em> I stared at it for a long time. Then I blocked him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, in my mom\u2019s apartment in Logan Square, I opened the windows. The place smelled of dust and memories. I put the flowers on the table, the pot on the stove, and Muffin in the middle of the living room. He walked slowly, sniffing every corner, as if inspecting his new kingdom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I boiled water. I didn\u2019t make muffins. I made coffee. Without poison. Without fear. Without apologizing for not wanting what someone put in front of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Muffin jumped onto the couch and looked at me with his yellow eyes. Outside, the city roared with honking cars, vendors, engines, and life. I held my hot mug in my hands and breathed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police had cordoned off a planter. But what they really found buried wasn\u2019t just a box. It was my silence. And that night, finally, I stopped feeding it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

MY COWORKER GAVE ME MUFFINS EVERY DAY, AND I GAVE THEM ALL TO A STRAY CAT. AFTER A MONTH, THE POLICE SUDDENLY CORDONED OFF THE ENTIRE PLANTER… <\/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-3725","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3725","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=3725"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3725\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3728,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3725\/revisions\/3728"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3725"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3725"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/myanh.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3725"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}