{"id":8474,"date":"2026-09-14T06:28:17","date_gmt":"2026-09-14T06:28:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/?p=8474"},"modified":"2026-09-14T06:28:17","modified_gmt":"2026-09-14T06:28:17","slug":"i-locked-my-wife-in-the-room-beneath-the-stairs-because-my-mother-cried","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/?p=8474","title":{"rendered":"I locked my wife in the room beneath the stairs because my mother cried"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n

The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it.<\/p>\n

Everything went silent.<\/p>\n

Then a man’s voice came from the darkness.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrew?\u201d<\/p>\n

My knees almost gave out.<\/p>\n

My father, Thomas, had died when I was seven.<\/p>\n

At least, that’s what I’d been told.<\/p>\n

Car accident.<\/p>\n

Late at night.<\/p>\n

Rain.<\/p>\n

Closed casket.<\/p>\n

For thirty years, whenever I asked about him, my mother gave me the same answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe died instantly.\u201d<\/p>\n

But dead men don’t say your name.<\/p>\n

I moved forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrew, wait,\u201d Sarah called.<\/p>\n

I ignored her.<\/p>\n

The passage opened into a small room behind the wall.<\/p>\n

There was a cot.<\/p>\n

A battery-powered lantern.<\/p>\n

Shelves.<\/p>\n

Old photographs.<\/p>\n

Boxes.<\/p>\n

And sitting in a wooden chair was a thin, gray-haired man with a scar running from his left temple toward his ear.<\/p>\n

I knew that scar.<\/p>\n

I’d seen it in childhood photographs.<\/p>\n

Thomas Bennett.<\/p>\n

My father.<\/p>\n

Alive.<\/p>\n

Sarah stood beside him.<\/p>\n

She was pale and barefoot.<\/p>\n

One hand pressed against her stomach.<\/p>\n

The other held a flashlight.<\/p>\n

I looked at her first.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n

She stared at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’re asking me that now?\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn’t answer.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

He lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned toward my mother.<\/p>\n

Catherine stood at the entrance to the passage.<\/p>\n

For the first time in my life, she looked genuinely afraid.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

She whispered:<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrew, come out of there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

My voice echoed through the passage.<\/p>\n

My father stood slowly.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t shout at her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I almost laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou’ve been dead for thirty years and that’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?\u201d<\/p>\n

His face crumpled.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe first thing I should say is that I’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

The truth didn’t come out cleanly.<\/p>\n

Truth rarely does after thirty years.<\/p>\n

My father had not been living behind our walls all that time.<\/p>\n

That was the first thing Sarah made clear.<\/p>\n

She’d found him there only hours earlier.<\/p>\n

The passage itself was old.<\/p>\n

Our house had belonged to my maternal grandparents before my mother inherited it. During renovations decades ago, part of an old service corridor had been sealed off rather than demolished.<\/p>\n

My mother knew it existed.<\/p>\n

I didn’t.<\/p>\n

The hidden room had been used for storage for years.<\/p>\n

And, occasionally, for meetings nobody was supposed to know about.<\/p>\n

Including one the night before.<\/p>\n

With my father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou brought him here?\u201d I asked Catherine.<\/p>\n

She said nothing.<\/p>\n

Thomas answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I contacted her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter thirty years?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAndrew\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy now?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked toward Sarah.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause of the baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stopped breathing.<\/p>\n

Sarah’s hand moved instinctively over her stomach.<\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow does he know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father looked at Catherine.<\/p>\n

And suddenly I understood.<\/p>\n

My mother had known Sarah was pregnant.<\/p>\n

\n

Sarah had discovered it three days earlier.<\/p>\n

She hadn’t told me yet.<\/p>\n

Not because she didn’t want the baby.<\/p>\n

Because she was frightened.<\/p>\n

Our marriage had been deteriorating for almost a year.<\/p>\n

Mostly because of Catherine.<\/p>\n

My mother had moved into our guesthouse after hip surgery eight months earlier.<\/p>\n

Temporary, she’d said.<\/p>\n

But temporary became permanent.<\/p>\n

She criticized Sarah’s cooking.<\/p>\n

Her clothes.<\/p>\n

Her work.<\/p>\n

How often she saw friends.<\/p>\n

How she spent money.<\/p>\n

And every time Sarah objected, Catherine became the victim.<\/p>\n

I had always found an excuse.<\/p>\n

She’s lonely.<\/strong><\/p>\n

She’s getting older.<\/strong><\/p>\n

She doesn’t mean it that way.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Just ignore her.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Sarah had stopped asking me to defend her.<\/p>\n

That should have frightened me.<\/p>\n

Instead, I’d interpreted her silence as peace.<\/p>\n

\n

Three days before the dinner, Sarah left the positive pregnancy test in our bathroom drawer.<\/p>\n

My mother found it.<\/p>\n

Catherine admitted that eventually.<\/p>\n

She’d been looking for pain medication.<\/p>\n

Or claimed she had been.<\/p>\n

She saw the test.<\/p>\n

Then she called Thomas.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n

My father looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause your mother believed history was repeating itself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat history?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked toward the baby blanket lying on the floor between us.<\/p>\n

Mine.<\/p>\n

Then he said:<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother was pregnant when she tried to leave me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me you died.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe had reasons.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat reasons?\u201d<\/p>\n

Thomas closed his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was not a good husband.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sentence was too small for whatever sat behind it.<\/p>\n

He continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cI controlled money. I decided where we went. Who she saw. I had a temper.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother suddenly spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou locked me in that same room.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned.<\/p>\n

Catherine was crying now.<\/p>\n

No performance.<\/p>\n

No hand dramatically clutching her chest.<\/p>\n

Just an old woman standing inside the remains of something she’d never escaped.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

She pointed toward the storage room behind us.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot once.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach turned.<\/p>\n

Thomas didn’t deny it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought I was teaching her respect.\u201d<\/p>\n

The exact logic I’d used hours earlier.<\/p>\n

When you’re done being proud, I’ll let you out.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I stepped backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah said nothing.<\/p>\n

She didn’t need to.<\/p>\n

My father continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother left me when you were seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why tell me you died?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I let her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe wanted you completely away from me. I agreed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat makes no sense.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt made sense then.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thomas explained.<\/p>\n

Their marriage had become volatile.<\/p>\n

Catherine had documented threats.<\/p>\n

A lawyer helped arrange their separation.<\/p>\n

My father left Georgia.<\/p>\n

For a while, there were legal disputes over contact.<\/p>\n

Then Thomas stopped fighting.<\/p>\n

He moved west.<\/p>\n

He sent letters.<\/p>\n

Money.<\/p>\n

Birthday cards.<\/p>\n

Catherine returned most of them.<\/p>\n

Eventually, they made a terrible agreement.<\/p>\n

He would disappear from my life.<\/p>\n

She would tell me whatever she believed necessary.<\/p>\n

And Thomas, ashamed of what he’d done and convinced I was better without him, accepted it.<\/p>\n

My mother chose death.<\/p>\n

A dead father couldn’t come back.<\/p>\n

A dead father couldn’t confuse a child.<\/p>\n

A dead father couldn’t demand forgiveness.<\/p>\n

It was cruel.<\/p>\n

But it wasn’t a kidnapping conspiracy.<\/p>\n

It was two damaged adults making a catastrophic decision for a seven-year-old boy.<\/p>\n

\n

\u201cWhy come back now?\u201d<\/p>\n

Thomas looked at Catherine.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe called me six months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

My head snapped toward her.<\/p>\n

Six months.<\/p>\n

Not three days.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said you were becoming like me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt sick.<\/p>\n

Apparently Catherine had been contacting him in secret.<\/p>\n

At first to talk about me.<\/p>\n

Then to argue.<\/p>\n

Then to revisit thirty years of anger.<\/p>\n

Thomas had come to Savannah twice.<\/p>\n

They met elsewhere.<\/p>\n

The night before, he’d come to the house because Catherine said she needed to show him something.<\/p>\n

Sarah’s pregnancy test.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe said you needed to know before you destroyed your family.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at my mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou knew?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why did you provoke Sarah at dinner?\u201d<\/p>\n

Catherine’s face changed.<\/p>\n

Because there was no good answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sat heavily on an old box.<\/p>\n

Finally, she whispered:<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I hated her for making me see it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSee what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her eyes met mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou defending me when I was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou choosing my feelings over hers.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked toward Thomas.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe same way nobody chose me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah finally spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you punished me for having the husband you once had?\u201d<\/p>\n

Catherine flinched.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou told him to lock me in there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn’t think\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said, \u2018That’s how women learn.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

My mother covered her mouth.<\/p>\n

I watched her realize she’d repeated the language of the man she’d spent thirty years hating.<\/p>\n

And I realized I’d repeated his actions.<\/p>\n

Trauma hadn’t made either of us wiser automatically.<\/p>\n

We’d simply carried parts of it forward.<\/p>\n

\n

Then I remembered the tea.<\/p>\n

My mouth was still dry.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you put in it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Catherine looked confused.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe tea last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI couldn’t stay awake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI gave you the nighttime tea you always use.\u201d<\/p>\n

I went still.<\/p>\n

My sleep medication.<\/p>\n

I occasionally used an over-the-counter nighttime sleep aid and kept it in the kitchen cabinet.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you put anything else in it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thomas looked at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cCatherine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later, I would learn there was no evidence she’d drugged me beyond what I knowingly took.<\/p>\n

I’d been exhausted, had consumed a sleep-inducing product, and desperately wanted to believe Sarah was merely being dramatic.<\/p>\n

Blaming the tea would have been convenient.<\/p>\n

But the truth was worse.<\/p>\n

I had heard my wife asking me to let her out.<\/p>\n

And I had chosen not to.<\/p>\n

\n

\u201cHow did Sarah get here?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Sarah answered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe false wall.\u201d<\/p>\n

She’d heard movement behind it after midnight.<\/p>\n

At first, she’d assumed mice.<\/p>\n

Then a voice.<\/p>\n

Thomas had been waiting in the hidden room for Catherine, who had told him she’d return after dinner.<\/p>\n

When he heard Sarah calling for help, he pushed against the old panel from his side.<\/p>\n

It had been partially blocked by the cabinet.<\/p>\n

That was the dragging I’d heard.<\/p>\n

Together, they shifted it enough for Sarah to crawl through.<\/p>\n

Thomas wanted to call the police.<\/p>\n

Sarah refused at first.<\/p>\n

Not because she wanted to protect me.<\/p>\n

Because she wanted to leave safely before turning the night into an even larger confrontation.<\/p>\n

She used Thomas’s phone to call her sister.<\/p>\n

Then she left through an exterior access door at the far end of the old service corridor.<\/p>\n

Before leaving, she’d put the ring and pregnancy test where she knew I’d find them.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy the photograph?\u201d<\/p>\n

I asked.<\/p>\n

Sarah looked toward the torn picture of seven-year-old me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn’t tear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thomas did.<\/p>\n

My father looked ashamed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI found it in one of Catherine’s boxes. It was a picture of the three of us. She’d already torn herself out years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

He showed me the other half.<\/p>\n

It contained him.<\/p>\n

My mother hadn’t cut the photograph that night.<\/p>\n

She’d cut my father out of it thirty years earlier.<\/p>\n

\n

Sarah didn’t come home with me.<\/p>\n

I asked.<\/p>\n

Once.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan we talk?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe are talking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean about us.\u201d<\/p>\n

She looked at me for a long time.<\/p>\n

Then she said:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou locked a pregnant woman in a room because your mother didn’t like her tone.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words stripped away every excuse.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn’t know you were pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould it have been acceptable if I wasn’t?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen don’t use the baby to make what you did worse. It was already bad enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

She was right.<\/p>\n

Again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI believe you.\u201d<\/p>\n

For one stupid second, hope rose inside me.<\/p>\n

Then she continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut believing you’re sorry doesn’t mean I’m safe with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sentence followed me for years.<\/p>\n

\n

Sarah stayed with her sister.<\/p>\n

She saw her doctor the next morning.<\/p>\n

The pregnancy was progressing normally.<\/p>\n

That news gave me relief I didn’t deserve.<\/p>\n

I offered to leave the house so she could return.<\/p>\n

She declined.<\/p>\n

She wanted distance.<\/p>\n

So I gave it to her.<\/p>\n

For once, I didn’t decide what was best for her.<\/p>\n

\n

My father stayed in Savannah for several weeks.<\/p>\n

I didn’t suddenly embrace him.<\/p>\n

He wasn’t secretly innocent.<\/p>\n

My mother had lied to me about his death.<\/p>\n

But he’d also been abusive to her.<\/p>\n

Both things could be true.<\/p>\n

I spent years believing family stories needed one villain and one victim.<\/p>\n

They don’t.<\/p>\n

Sometimes the person who was harmed goes on to harm someone else.<\/p>\n

Sometimes the person who did terrible things changes.<\/p>\n

Sometimes he doesn’t.<\/p>\n

And sometimes forgiveness has nothing to do with reconciliation.<\/p>\n

Thomas and I began talking.<\/p>\n

Slowly.<\/p>\n

Supervised at first by my own distrust.<\/p>\n

He never asked me to call him Dad.<\/p>\n

That helped.<\/p>\n

\n

My relationship with Catherine changed permanently.<\/p>\n

She eventually admitted something that hurt more than her lies.<\/p>\n

She had recognized my behavior toward Sarah long before that dinner.<\/p>\n

The impatience.<\/p>\n

The control.<\/p>\n

The way I demanded Sarah apologize simply to restore peace.<\/p>\n

She saw Thomas in me.<\/p>\n

And instead of confronting me, she enjoyed being the woman I chose.<\/p>\n

That was the ugliest part.<\/p>\n

For the first time in decades, she had power inside a family.<\/p>\n

And she didn’t want to surrender it.<\/p>\n

She entered therapy.<\/p>\n

So did I.<\/p>\n

But therapy wasn’t a magic eraser.<\/p>\n

Sarah filed for separation.<\/p>\n

I didn’t fight it.<\/p>\n

\n

Our daughter, Emily, was born seven months later.<\/p>\n

I was present because Sarah chose to let me be.<\/p>\n

Not because I demanded it.<\/p>\n

When the nurse placed Emily in Sarah’s arms, I cried.<\/p>\n

Then Sarah looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can hold her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

That question mattered.<\/p>\n

Sarah noticed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took my daughter.<\/p>\n

She weighed almost nothing.<\/p>\n

I looked at her tiny face and thought about the baby blanket with my name embroidered into it.<\/p>\n

About my mother.<\/p>\n

My father.<\/p>\n

That locked room.<\/p>\n

Thirty years of people confusing love with ownership.<\/p>\n

\u201cI won’t do that to you,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

Sarah heard me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t promise her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cPractice it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Sarah and I never returned to the marriage we had before.<\/p>\n

That marriage deserved to end.<\/p>\n

But something unexpected happened over the following three years.<\/p>\n

I stopped trying to convince her I’d changed.<\/p>\n

I simply changed what I did.<\/p>\n

I respected the custody schedule.<\/p>\n

I never used Emily to reach Sarah.<\/p>\n

I never asked my mother to intervene.<\/p>\n

I stopped demanding immediate forgiveness whenever I apologized.<\/p>\n

I learned that an apology isn’t a key you insert into another person to unlock the relationship you want back.<\/p>\n

Sarah noticed.<\/p>\n

Eventually, we began having coffee after exchanging Emily.<\/p>\n

Then dinner.<\/p>\n

Then family outings.<\/p>\n

Three years after the night beneath the stairs, Sarah asked whether I’d consider couples counseling.<\/p>\n

Not reconciliation.<\/p>\n

Counseling.<\/p>\n

I said yes.<\/p>\n

A year later, we chose to try again.<\/p>\n

Slowly.<\/p>\n

I moved back in only after Sarah asked me to.<\/p>\n

The first thing we renovated was the room beneath the staircase.<\/p>\n

I wanted to seal it permanently.<\/p>\n

Sarah disagreed.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo more hidden rooms.\u201d<\/p>\n

So we removed the false wall.<\/p>\n

Opened the passage.<\/p>\n

Rebuilt the space.<\/p>\n

Today it’s part of the living room.<\/p>\n

Bright.<\/p>\n

Visible.<\/p>\n

Nothing hidden.<\/p>\n

\n

Emily is eight now.<\/p>\n

Thomas died two years ago.<\/p>\n

This time, when someone told me my father was dead, it was true.<\/p>\n

I attended the funeral.<\/p>\n

My mother didn’t.<\/p>\n

I understood.<\/p>\n

Sarah did.<\/p>\n

She stood beside me without pretending the past had become beautiful merely because it was over.<\/p>\n

Catherine is still alive.<\/p>\n

Our relationship is complicated.<\/p>\n

Her relationship with Sarah is polite and limited.<\/p>\n

Nobody forces more.<\/p>\n

Some wounds heal by reconnecting.<\/p>\n

Others heal because boundaries remain exactly where they belong.<\/p>\n

\n

I still have the positive pregnancy test.<\/p>\n

Sarah thinks that’s strange.<\/p>\n

She’s probably right.<\/p>\n

The ink on the back has faded.<\/p>\n

BENNETT.<\/strong><\/p>\n

My last name.<\/p>\n

For years, I thought she’d written it as a sentence against me.<\/p>\n

She hadn’t.<\/p>\n

Sarah eventually told me she’d written our surname on several pregnancy tests because she’d planned to put one in a small box and surprise me.<\/p>\n

She had imagined handing it to me after dinner.<\/p>\n

Instead, she left it on an old box beneath the stairs while escaping the husband she’d intended to surprise.<\/p>\n

That fact still hurts.<\/p>\n

It should.<\/p>\n

Because the most frightening secret inside our house wasn’t the passageway.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t my supposedly dead father.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t even the thirty-year lie my mother had buried behind a wall.<\/p>\n

It was the realization that cruelty can travel through a family without anyone consciously deciding to inherit it.<\/p>\n

My father once locked my mother behind that door because he believed being her husband gave him authority over her.<\/p>\n

Thirty years later, without knowing that story, I locked Sarah behind the same door.<\/p>\n

I used different words.<\/p>\n

I had different excuses.<\/p>\n

But Sarah taught me something I wish I’d understood before I ever turned that key:<\/p>\n

You don’t break a family pattern by swearing you’ll never become the person who hurt you.<\/strong><\/p>\n

You break it the first time someone you love says \u201clet me out\u201d\u2014and you open the door.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cDad?\u201d The word escaped my mouth before I could stop it. Everything went silent. Then a man’s voice came from the darkness. \u201cAndrew?\u201d My knees almost gave out. My father, Thomas, had died when I was seven. At least, that’s what I’d been told. Car accident. Late at night. Rain. Closed casket. For thirty years, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5185,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8474","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-interesting"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8474","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8474"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8474\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8475,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8474\/revisions\/8475"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5185"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8474"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8474"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8474"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}