I stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman’s fingers tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho can’t know?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked past me again.<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
There were maybe thirty people scattered across the caf\u00e9 terrace.<\/p>\n
Couples.<\/p>\n
Families.<\/p>\n
A waitress carrying drinks.<\/p>\n
A young mother pushing a stroller.<\/p>\n
Then I saw her.<\/p>\n
A woman sitting alone at a table near the railing.<\/p>\n
Long brown hair pulled into a loose knot.<\/p>\n
Sunglasses.<\/p>\n
A book open beside an untouched glass of lemonade.<\/p>\n
She was older than Nora had been.<\/p>\n
Of course she was.<\/p>\n
Twenty-four now.<\/p>\n
For eight years, every image of my daughter inside my head had remained sixteen.<\/p>\n
The woman lifted her sunglasses.<\/p>\n
And my knees nearly gave out.<\/p>\n
\u201cNora.\u201d<\/p>\n
The stranger grabbed me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
But it was too late.<\/p>\n
The young woman had heard me.<\/p>\n
She looked directly at us.<\/p>\n
Her face emptied.<\/p>\n
The glass slipped from her hand.<\/p>\n
It shattered beneath the table.<\/p>\n
Then she ran.<\/p>\n
\u201cNORA!\u201d<\/p>\n
I chased her.<\/p>\n
My husband, Michael, shouted behind me.<\/p>\n
People turned.<\/p>\n
Nora disappeared between two shops.<\/p>\n
By the time I reached the boardwalk, she was gone.<\/p>\n
Again.<\/p>\n
I stood there screaming her name.<\/p>\n
Eight years collapsed into eight seconds.<\/p>\n
Same ocean.<\/p>\n
Same terror.<\/p>\n
Same daughter disappearing while I watched.<\/p>\n
Michael reached me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was Nora.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared at me.<\/p>\n
I pointed toward the caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe woman. The cover-up.\u201d<\/p>\n
The older woman was still there.<\/p>\n
She hadn’t run.<\/p>\n
Michael marched toward her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell is going on?\u201d<\/p>\n
She raised both hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Evelyn Carter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is our daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know where she went.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor how long?\u201d<\/p>\n
Evelyn closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cAlmost eight years.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael made a sound I had never heard from him before.<\/p>\n
I thought he might hit her.<\/p>\n
I stepped between them.<\/p>\n
\u201cCall the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
Evelyn’s eyes snapped open.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
It sounded almost hysterical.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou’ve known where my missing child was for eight years and you’re asking me not to call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause there’s something you don’t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen explain it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Evelyn looked toward the street where Nora had disappeared.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wasn’t taken.\u201d<\/p>\n
The police came anyway.<\/p>\n
Of course they did.<\/p>\n
I called before Evelyn finished the sentence.<\/p>\n
Officers separated us.<\/p>\n
Our original missing-person case was verified.<\/p>\n
Photographs were compared.<\/p>\n
Local authorities contacted investigators back home.<\/p>\n
Evelyn was questioned.<\/p>\n
So were Michael and I.<\/p>\n
The turquoise cover-up was collected with Evelyn’s consent.<\/p>\n
Inside the hem, faded but still visible, were two embroidered letters.<\/p>\n
N. V.<\/strong><\/p>\n When I saw them, I started crying.<\/p>\n My mother had died three years earlier.<\/p>\n She’d gone to her grave without knowing what happened to Nora.<\/p>\n But her stitches had survived.<\/p>\n Nora didn’t return that evening.<\/p>\n Police located her the following morning.<\/p>\n She was staying with a friend.<\/p>\n She was alive.<\/p>\n She was safe.<\/p>\n And the sentence that destroyed every explanation I’d constructed for eight years was delivered to me in a small interview room.<\/p>\n \u201cYour daughter says she left voluntarily.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at the detective.<\/p>\n \u201cShe was sixteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe left her phone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHer shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe vanished.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSixteen-year-olds don’t just disappear for eight years.\u201d<\/p>\n The detective paused.<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes they do.\u201d<\/p>\n But it wasn’t as simple as Nora waking up one morning and deciding she hated us.<\/p>\n Evelyn had been on that beach eight years earlier.<\/p>\n She’d been traveling with her sister.<\/p>\n Nora approached her near a public restroom several blocks from the ice cream stand.<\/p>\n Crying.<\/p>\n Panicking.<\/p>\n Asking where the bus station was.<\/p>\n Evelyn initially tried to convince her to return to her parents.<\/p>\n Nora refused.<\/p>\n Then she told Evelyn why.<\/p>\n And that was the part nobody wanted to say to me.<\/p>\n Not Evelyn.<\/p>\n Not the detective.<\/p>\n Eventually, Nora told me herself.<\/p>\n We met three days later.<\/p>\n Neutral location.<\/p>\n A counselor’s office.<\/p>\n Nora requested it.<\/p>\n When she entered, I stood automatically.<\/p>\n She stopped near the door.<\/p>\n So I sat back down.<\/p>\n She looked like me around the eyes.<\/p>\n Like Michael around the mouth.<\/p>\n There was a tiny scar near her eyebrow that hadn’t existed at sixteen.<\/p>\n I wanted to ask about it.<\/p>\n I wanted to ask eight years’ worth of questions.<\/p>\n Instead I said:<\/p>\n \u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n She swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cHi, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n Mom.<\/p>\n One word.<\/p>\n I cried immediately.<\/p>\n Nora didn’t.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t help it.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did you leave?\u201d<\/p>\n She stared at her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I thought Dad was going to find out.\u201d<\/p>\n Michael wasn’t there.<\/p>\n Nora had refused to see him.<\/p>\n \u201cFind out what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat I was pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n The room tilted.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was about eleven weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were pregnant?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI tried.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThree days before the trip.\u201d<\/p>\n I searched my memory.<\/p>\n Nothing.<\/p>\n Then something surfaced.<\/p>\n Nora standing in my bedroom doorway.<\/p>\n Mom, can I talk to you?<\/strong><\/p>\n I had been packing.<\/p>\n Michael was complaining from downstairs that we were leaving late.<\/p>\n I’d said:<\/p>\n Can it wait until we get there?<\/strong><\/p>\n Apparently it couldn’t.<\/p>\n \u201cWho was the father?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAiden.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew him.<\/p>\n Seventeen.<\/p>\n Quiet kid.<\/p>\n He’d been in Nora’s chemistry class.<\/p>\n \u201cDid he know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe panicked too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid Dad threaten you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why run?\u201d<\/p>\n Nora finally looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I heard Dad talking about Kayla.\u201d<\/p>\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n Kayla was Michael’s niece.<\/p>\n She’d become pregnant at seventeen two years earlier.<\/p>\n Michael had been furious.<\/p>\n He’d called her irresponsible.<\/p>\n Said she’d ruined her future.<\/p>\n Said her parents were fools for letting the boyfriend remain involved.<\/p>\n I remembered defending Kayla after Nora went upstairs.<\/p>\n I remembered Michael eventually apologizing to his sister.<\/p>\n What I hadn’t understood was that Nora remembered the first reaction.<\/p>\n Not the apology.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought he’d throw me out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe wouldn’t have.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could’ve told me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was sixteen, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n The words weren’t angry.<\/p>\n That made them worse.<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn’t making adult decisions with an adult brain. I was terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n I started to say something.<\/p>\n Then stopped.<\/p>\n Because nothing I could say would change sixteen-year-old Nora’s fear.<\/p>\n Evelyn hadn’t planned to help a minor disappear.<\/p>\n That became important.<\/p>\n The truth was messy.<\/p>\n When Nora approached her, Evelyn bought her food and spent nearly an hour trying to persuade her to contact us.<\/p>\n Nora refused.<\/p>\n She threatened to leave alone.<\/p>\n Eventually Evelyn drove her to a youth crisis center rather than a bus station.<\/p>\n That facility contacted child-protection services.<\/p>\n And here was the part that had to be untangled through records rather than memory:<\/p>\n Nora had given a false last name.<\/p>\n She claimed she was seventeen.<\/p>\n She said she could not safely return home.<\/p>\n She refused to provide our contact information.<\/p>\n Within days, she left the program.<\/p>\n After that, Evelyn lost contact with her for almost six months.<\/p>\n So no, Evelyn had not secretly kept my daughter hidden in a bedroom for eight years.<\/p>\n She had made questionable decisions.<\/p>\n She admitted that.<\/p>\n She should have contacted police after seeing news reports about Nora.<\/p>\n She didn’t.<\/p>\n That failure haunted her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d I asked Evelyn later.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t you call?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause when I saw the missing posters, I realized who she was.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn’t answer me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe’d told me she was terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo you believed a sixteen-year-old over her parents?\u201d<\/p>\n Evelyn looked ashamed.<\/p>\n \u201cAt first, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n Her answer surprised me.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I had been that sixteen-year-old.\u201d<\/p>\n Evelyn had left home at seventeen after becoming pregnant.<\/p>\n Her father had thrown her out.<\/p>\n She’d lost the pregnancy several months later.<\/p>\n When Nora spoke, Evelyn hadn’t heard only Nora.<\/p>\n She’d heard herself.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was my mistake,\u201d she said. \u201cI let my history decide what your family must be.\u201d<\/p>\n Nora’s pregnancy ended in miscarriage approximately three weeks after she disappeared.<\/p>\n She was alone except for staff at a youth clinic.<\/p>\n When she told me that, I covered my face.<\/p>\n \u201cYou went through that without me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t you come home afterward?\u201d<\/p>\n She was silent for a long time.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause by then everybody was looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n I didn’t understand.<\/p>\n \u201cThat should’ve made you come home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo an adult, maybe.\u201d<\/p>\n She shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cTo me, it meant I’d done something so enormous that I couldn’t undo it.\u201d<\/p>\n Every day made returning harder.<\/p>\n A week became a month.<\/p>\n A month became six.<\/p>\n By then, Nora had convinced herself we’d hate her.<\/p>\n She moved between youth programs and temporary housing.<\/p>\n Eventually she finished high school through an alternative program.<\/p>\n At eighteen, she was legally free to live wherever she wanted.<\/p>\n And then shame replaced fear.<\/p>\n \u201cBut you saw the news,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew we were looking.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew I thought you might be dead.\u201d<\/p>\n Nora finally cried.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n That was the first moment I became angry.<\/p>\n Really angry.<\/p>\n Not at sixteen-year-old Nora.<\/p>\n At twenty-year-old Nora.<\/p>\n Twenty-two-year-old Nora.<\/p>\n Twenty-four-year-old Nora.<\/p>\n The woman sitting across from me had eventually become old enough to understand what her silence was doing.<\/p>\n \u201cI can understand being scared at sixteen.\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded through tears.<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can understand getting trapped in a lie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut eight years, Nora?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t have an answer that makes it okay.\u201d<\/p>\n Good.<\/p>\n Because there wasn’t one.<\/p>\n The cover-up had ended up with Evelyn almost accidentally.<\/p>\n Nora had removed it at the youth center because it was distinctive and she was afraid someone would recognize her from photographs.<\/p>\n Evelyn had taken the few belongings Nora left behind when she disappeared from the program.<\/p>\n Months later, when they reconnected, Evelyn tried to return it.<\/p>\n Nora refused.<\/p>\n \u201cThrow it away.\u201d<\/p>\n Evelyn couldn’t.<\/p>\n Her own mother had sewn, and she recognized immediately that the garment was handmade.<\/p>\n So she kept it.<\/p>\n Years later, she started wearing it occasionally.<\/p>\n She told herself enough time had passed.<\/p>\n That nobody would recognize it.<\/p>\n She was wrong.<\/p>\n My mother’s crooked yellow sun had done what eight years of posters, searches, and internet appeals couldn’t.<\/p>\n It brought me to my daughter.<\/p>\n Michael learned the truth two days later.<\/p>\n Nora agreed to speak with him by video first.<\/p>\n I sat beside him.<\/p>\n He looked twenty years older than he had that morning.<\/p>\n When Nora appeared, he couldn’t speak.<\/p>\n Eventually:<\/p>\n \u201cWere you afraid of me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n He started crying.<\/p>\n \u201cDid I ever make you think I’d hurt you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThrow you out?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said Uncle Tom should’ve thrown Kayla out.\u201d<\/p>\n Michael closed his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI said a lot of stupid things.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. You heard me say them. That’s different.\u201d<\/p>\n That sentence mattered.<\/p>\n He didn’t tell her she’d misunderstood.<\/p>\n Didn’t explain what he’d really meant.<\/p>\n Didn’t make sixteen-year-old Nora responsible for interpreting an adult’s angry words generously.<\/p>\n \u201cI am so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n Reunion wasn’t magical.<\/p>\n Nora didn’t move home.<\/p>\n We didn’t spend Christmas pretending the missing eight years hadn’t happened.<\/p>\n She had a life.<\/p>\n A job at a veterinary clinic.<\/p>\n Friends we’d never met.<\/p>\n An apartment.<\/p>\n A boyfriend named Aaron who knew the entire story and had spent two years encouraging her to contact us.<\/p>\n We were strangers who loved one another.<\/p>\n That’s a difficult relationship to describe.<\/p>\n For the first year, we met once a month.<\/p>\n Sometimes twice.<\/p>\n Coffee.<\/p>\n Lunch.<\/p>\n A museum.<\/p>\n Neutral places.<\/p>\n I wanted every meeting to last twelve hours.<\/p>\n Nora usually wanted ninety minutes.<\/p>\n I learned not to punish her for that.<\/p>\n Michael had an even slower relationship with her.<\/p>\n But he kept showing up.<\/p>\n No lectures.<\/p>\n No demands.<\/p>\n No:<\/p>\n After everything you put us through.<\/strong><\/p>\n That sentence would’ve been true.<\/p>\n It also would’ve destroyed what little we were rebuilding.<\/p>\n Eventually Nora came home.<\/p>\n Not to live.<\/p>\n To visit.<\/p>\n She stood inside her old bedroom.<\/p>\n We’d barely changed it.<\/p>\n That embarrassed me.<\/p>\n She touched the trophies.<\/p>\n The books.<\/p>\n The faded concert poster.<\/p>\n \u201cYou kept everything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn’t know what else to do.\u201d<\/p>\n She sat on the bed.<\/p>\n Then looked toward me.<\/p>\n \u201cYou really thought I was dead?\u201d<\/p>\n Every day.<\/p>\n But I only said:<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n She began crying.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat beside her.<\/p>\n This time, when I reached for her, she let me.<\/p>\n We never pretended Evelyn had handled everything correctly.<\/p>\n She should have alerted authorities when she recognized Nora as the missing girl.<\/p>\n She acknowledged that.<\/p>\n So did Nora.<\/p>\n But I also couldn’t reduce Evelyn to the villain I’d initially wanted her to be.<\/p>\n She had taken a terrified teenager to a crisis center rather than leaving her alone.<\/p>\n Later, she made a serious mistake by allowing her own history to convince her that silence was protection.<\/p>\n Everyone in this story had confused silence with protection at some point.<\/p>\n Nora.<\/p>\n Evelyn.<\/p>\n Even me, when I avoided difficult conversations because I assumed there would always be another day.<\/p>\n Three years after we found Nora, my mother would have turned eighty.<\/p>\n Nora came with me to the cemetery.<\/p>\n She brought the turquoise cover-up.<\/p>\n Evelyn had returned it.<\/p>\n The fabric was thin now.<\/p>\n The color almost washed away.<\/p>\n But inside the hem:<\/p>\n N. V.<\/strong><\/p>\n And near the bottom:<\/p>\n that ridiculous crooked yellow sun.<\/p>\n Nora touched it.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandma did this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn the first day of our trip.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at her.<\/p>\n \u201cYou do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou were mad because I ripped it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn’t mad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou absolutely were.\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed.<\/p>\n Then cried.<\/p>\n Because it was the first new memory of that beach she’d ever given me.<\/p>\n For eight years, the beach had ended with Nora walking away.<\/p>\n Now there was something before it.<\/p>\n My mother sewing.<\/p>\n Nora laughing.<\/p>\n Me pretending to be annoyed.<\/p>\n A family still intact for a few more hours.<\/p>\n Nora kept the cover-up.<\/p>\n She doesn’t wear it.<\/p>\n It’s folded inside a box in her apartment.<\/p>\n And she eventually told me something I wish I’d understood when she was sixteen.<\/p>\n She didn’t disappear because she didn’t love us.<\/p>\n She disappeared because fear made the next ten minutes seem more important than the next ten years.<\/p>\n Then shame did the rest.<\/p>\n That doesn’t erase the damage.<\/p>\n Understanding isn’t the same as excusing.<\/p>\n There are still moments when I think about the birthdays we missed and feel furious.<\/p>\n There are moments when Nora thinks about what she put us through and can’t look me in the eye.<\/p>\n We’re learning to let both things be true.<\/p>\n Last September, Nora turned twenty-seven.<\/p>\n We celebrated together.<\/p>\n Michael made dinner.<\/p>\n Aaron brought cake.<\/p>\n And before leaving, Nora handed me a photograph.<\/p>\n It had been taken at the original beach.<\/p>\n Not the day she disappeared.<\/p>\n The day before.<\/p>\n Nora and I were standing together in the surf.<\/p>\n She was wearing the turquoise cover-up.<\/p>\n My arm was around her shoulders.<\/p>\n On the back, she’d written:<\/p>\n Mom, I’m sorry you had to remember this as the last version of me for eight years.<\/strong><\/p>\n I cried.<\/p>\n Then turned the photograph over and wrote beneath it:<\/p>\n It isn’t the last version anymore.<\/strong><\/p>\n Because that was what mattered.<\/p>\n For eight years, my daughter had existed only at sixteen in my mind\u2014walking away across hot sand in something her grandmother had sewn.<\/p>\n Then, six hundred miles from home, the wind lifted the corner of a stranger’s faded turquoise cover-up.<\/p>\n And I saw a crooked yellow sun.<\/p>\n For eight years, that little patch had been part of the last thing my daughter wore before she disappeared.<\/strong><\/p>\n In the end, it became the thing that helped me find her again.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I stopped breathing. \u201cWho?\u201d The woman’s fingers tightened. \u201cPlease.\u201d \u201cWho can’t know?\u201d She looked past me again. I turned. There were maybe thirty people scattered across the caf\u00e9 terrace. Couples. Families. A waitress carrying drinks. A young mother pushing a stroller. Then I saw her. A woman sitting alone at a table near the railing. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5183,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8606","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\/8606","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=8606"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8606\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8607,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8606\/revisions\/8607"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8606"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8606"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8606"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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