I reached for the envelope, but the woman didn’t release it immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is something you need to understand first.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAfter ten years, I think I’ve waited long enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
She let go.<\/p>\n
My hands trembled as I turned the envelope over.<\/p>\n
It was still sealed.<\/p>\n
Not resealed.<\/p>\n
Not taped.<\/p>\n
Sarah had written my name across the front in the purple ink she used for practically everything during her senior year.<\/p>\n
Mom.<\/strong><\/p>\n Just that.<\/p>\n I looked up.<\/p>\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n The woman swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cMy name is Rebecca Callahan.\u201d<\/p>\n The name meant nothing to me.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd how did you know my daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n Before she could answer, I heard Leo calling from behind us.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandma! Found it!\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca’s face changed.<\/p>\n She stared past me.<\/p>\n I turned.<\/p>\n Leo was jogging up the hill with Sarah’s birthday card in one hand.<\/p>\n As he came closer, his smile faded.<\/p>\n He looked at Rebecca.<\/p>\n Then Rebecca looked at him.<\/p>\n She covered her mouth.<\/p>\n \u201cOh my God.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo stopped beside me.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandma?\u201d<\/p>\n I put my hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is Rebecca. She knew your mom.\u201d<\/p>\n His entire face sharpened with interest.<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew my mom?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca nodded, but tears had already filled her eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n She looked at me.<\/p>\n I understood what she was asking without words.<\/p>\n Not here.<\/p>\n Not like this.<\/p>\n \u201cLeo,\u201d I said, \u201cwhy don’t you put your card by Mom’s stone?\u201d<\/p>\n He glanced between us.<\/p>\n He was ten, not three. He knew something was happening.<\/p>\n But he nodded.<\/p>\n While he crouched beside the grave, I lowered my voice.<\/p>\n \u201cYou’re going to tell me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cToday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd no more secrets.\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca looked toward Leo.<\/p>\n \u201cNo more secrets.\u201d<\/p>\n An hour later, the three of us were sitting in a diner fifteen minutes from the cemetery.<\/p>\n Leo had hot chocolate.<\/p>\n Rebecca hadn’t touched her coffee.<\/p>\n The envelope sat unopened in front of me.<\/p>\n I wanted to tear into it.<\/p>\n But first I needed to know who had carried my daughter’s final words for ten years.<\/p>\n Rebecca folded her hands.<\/p>\n \u201cMy son knew Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n Every sound in the diner seemed to disappear.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is your son’s name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMatthew.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at Leo.<\/p>\n He was watching her closely.<\/p>\n \u201cWas Matthew my dad?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca’s face crumpled.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo didn’t move.<\/p>\n Neither did I.<\/p>\n Ten years.<\/p>\n Ten years of birthday candles.<\/p>\n Ten years of school forms where I’d left the father’s information blank.<\/p>\n Ten years of telling a little boy I didn’t know where half of him came from.<\/p>\n And now a stranger had answered the question with one word.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is he?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n Rebecca stared at her coffee.<\/p>\n \u201cHe died eleven years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n That wasn’t possible.<\/p>\n I did the math.<\/p>\n Sarah had become pregnant roughly ten and a half years earlier.<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCar accident.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca gave me the date.<\/p>\n I felt the blood drain from my face.<\/p>\n It was less than three months after Sarah had become pregnant.<\/p>\n Leo spoke before I could.<\/p>\n \u201cSo he never knew me?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca’s eyes moved to him.<\/p>\n \u201cHe knew you were coming.\u201d<\/p>\n That distinction mattered.<\/p>\n I saw it in Leo’s face.<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour mom told him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas he happy?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca started crying.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n The answer came without hesitation.<\/p>\n \u201cHe was terrified. But yes.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo looked down at his hot chocolate.<\/p>\n For years, I had prepared myself for almost every possible answer.<\/p>\n A boy who ran away.<\/p>\n A married man.<\/p>\n Someone dangerous.<\/p>\n Someone who denied the pregnancy.<\/p>\n Someone Sarah was ashamed to name.<\/p>\n I had never prepared for a dead eighteen-year-old.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened between them?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n Rebecca looked toward the envelope.<\/p>\n \u201cSarah explains some of it better than I can.\u201d<\/p>\n I finally opened it.<\/p>\n Inside were four folded pages.<\/p>\n And a photograph.<\/p>\n The photograph came out first.<\/p>\n Sarah stood beside a tall boy with dark hair.<\/p>\n She was laughing.<\/p>\n He wasn’t looking at the camera.<\/p>\n He was looking at her.<\/p>\n I turned the photograph over.<\/p>\n In Sarah’s handwriting:<\/p>\n Me + Matt. Don’t tell Mom yet.<\/strong><\/p>\n Despite everything, a broken laugh escaped me.<\/p>\n That sounded exactly like her.<\/p>\n I unfolded the letter.<\/p>\n The first line nearly destroyed me.<\/p>\n Mom, if Rebecca gives you this, then I didn’t get the chance to explain it myself.<\/strong><\/p>\n I stopped reading.<\/p>\n \u201cDid she know she might die?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Rebecca said quickly. \u201cNot from childbirth. That’s not what she meant.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked back down.<\/p>\n Sarah had written the letter during the final month of her pregnancy.<\/p>\n She had been planning to tell me everything after Leo was born.<\/p>\n She wrote that she hadn’t hidden Matthew because she was ashamed of him.<\/p>\n She’d hidden him because of what happened after he died.<\/p>\n Matthew had been a senior at another high school.<\/p>\n They’d met through friends the previous summer.<\/p>\n They dated quietly because Rebecca’s husband\u2014Matthew’s father, Charles\u2014was strict about his son’s future.<\/p>\n Matthew had earned an academic scholarship.<\/p>\n Charles had already mapped out college, graduate school, and a career for him.<\/p>\n Sarah’s pregnancy didn’t fit the plan.<\/p>\n But Matthew hadn’t run.<\/p>\n According to the letter, he’d held Sarah’s hands when she told him and said:<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. I’m scared, but okay. We’ll figure it out.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n He wanted to tell both families.<\/p>\n Sarah asked for a little time.<\/p>\n Then Matthew died before they could.<\/p>\n I lowered the pages.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t Sarah tell me after the accident?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca closed her eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause my husband found out.\u201d<\/p>\n Charles had discovered messages on Matthew’s old laptop.<\/p>\n He confronted Rebecca first.<\/p>\n Then he contacted Sarah.<\/p>\n I felt something cold settle inside me.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did he say to my eighteen-year-old daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca’s voice became quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cHe accused her of lying.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout the pregnancy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout Matthew being the father.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo was listening.<\/p>\n I wanted to stop the conversation.<\/p>\n But this was his history.<\/p>\n And if we were finally going to tell him, I wasn’t going to replace one family secret with another.<\/p>\n Rebecca continued carefully.<\/p>\n \u201cCharles was grieving. That explains where some of it came from. It doesn’t excuse what he did.\u201d<\/p>\n He told Sarah that Matthew’s life was over and he wouldn’t allow some girl to attach herself to the Callahan family using a dead boy’s name.<\/p>\n He threatened to challenge paternity if she publicly identified Matthew.<\/p>\n He threatened legal action.<\/p>\n Most of those threats had been more frightening than legally meaningful.<\/p>\n But Sarah was eighteen.<\/p>\n Pregnant.<\/p>\n Grieving.<\/p>\n And facing a wealthy, furious adult who spoke as though he controlled everything.<\/p>\n So she panicked.<\/p>\n \u201cShe came to me,\u201d Rebecca said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout five months pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n I gripped the letter.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you didn’t call me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause she begged me not to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe was eighteen!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou were the adult!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca didn’t defend herself.<\/p>\n That made it harder to stay furious.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought I could protect her quietly. I gave her my number. I told her Charles didn’t speak for me. I told her if the baby was Matthew’s, I wanted to know him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf?\u201d<\/p>\n She winced.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m telling you exactly how I spoke then. I wish I’d chosen better words.\u201d<\/p>\n Sarah had heard doubt even from the one person trying to help her.<\/p>\n So she withdrew further.<\/p>\n Then, late in the pregnancy, she wrote the letter.<\/p>\n She gave it to Rebecca with instructions:<\/p>\n If she couldn’t tell me herself, Rebecca should.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd then Sarah died,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n Rebecca nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cSo why did it take you ten years?\u201d<\/p>\n Her eyes filled again.<\/p>\n This time I didn’t soften.<\/p>\n She owed me that answer.<\/p>\n \u201cCharles had a heart attack the morning after Sarah died.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at her.<\/p>\n \u201cHe survived, but barely. There were surgeries. Rehabilitation. Then complications.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd that stopped you from making a phone call?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n At least she didn’t insult me with an excuse.<\/p>\n \u201cI stopped myself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I was a coward.\u201d<\/p>\n The word sat between us.<\/p>\n She explained that she’d convinced herself I was grieving too much.<\/p>\n Then that Leo was too young.<\/p>\n Then that disrupting our lives would be selfish.<\/p>\n Every year she found a new reason.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, her marriage deteriorated.<\/p>\n Charles never wanted Matthew publicly identified as Leo’s father without proof.<\/p>\n Rebecca wanted to contact me.<\/p>\n Neither did anything.<\/p>\n Then Charles died eighteen months earlier.<\/p>\n Rebecca found Sarah’s envelope again while clearing out their house.<\/p>\n She’d been carrying it in her purse ever since.<\/p>\n She had visited Sarah’s grave four times.<\/p>\n That day was the first time she’d found us there.<\/p>\n \u201cYou could have mailed it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could have called.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou stole ten years from him.\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca looked at Leo.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n She didn’t ask me to understand.<\/p>\n She didn’t tell me grief had made her do it.<\/p>\n She simply accepted the sentence.<\/p>\n That was the only reason I remained at the table.<\/p>\n There was still one important question.<\/p>\n Proof.<\/p>\n A letter and an old photograph could tell us what Sarah believed.<\/p>\n They could not establish biological paternity by themselves.<\/p>\n Rebecca understood before I even said it.<\/p>\n \u201cI have another son,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Matthew’s older brother.<\/p>\n Andrew.<\/p>\n He was thirty-four now, married, living in Connecticut.<\/p>\n He knew about Sarah.<\/p>\n He knew about Leo.<\/p>\n And after Rebecca finally told him the full story following Charles’s death, he’d told her something she hadn’t expected.<\/p>\n \u201cIf there’s a child who might be Matt’s, we don’t get to decide he doesn’t deserve answers.\u201d<\/p>\n Andrew was willing to participate in appropriate DNA testing.<\/p>\n I didn’t make that decision at the diner.<\/p>\n Neither did Leo.<\/p>\n We went home.<\/p>\n We talked.<\/p>\n I contacted our family doctor for guidance and later spoke with an attorney because I wanted to understand any legal implications before involving a ten-year-old in something so emotionally complicated.<\/p>\n Most importantly, I found a counselor experienced in adoption, kinship care, grief, and family identity.<\/p>\n Not because anything was wrong with Leo.<\/p>\n Because enormous truths deserve somewhere safe to land.<\/p>\n Several weeks later, testing supported what Sarah had written.<\/p>\n Matthew Callahan was Leo’s biological father.<\/p>\n For the first time in ten years, the blank space had a name.<\/p>\n Leo didn’t suddenly call Rebecca Grandma.<\/p>\n I was grateful nobody expected him to.<\/p>\n He called her Rebecca.<\/p>\n The first few visits were awkward.<\/p>\n She brought too many gifts.<\/p>\n I stopped that quickly.<\/p>\n \u201cHe doesn’t need you to compensate for ten years with things.\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded.<\/p>\n The next time, she brought photographs.<\/p>\n Those mattered.<\/p>\n Matthew at seven, missing his front teeth.<\/p>\n Matthew playing soccer.<\/p>\n Matthew asleep with the family dog.<\/p>\n Matthew at sixteen wearing an absurd Halloween costume.<\/p>\n Leo studied every photograph.<\/p>\n \u201cDo I look like him?\u201d<\/p>\n Sometimes he did.<\/p>\n Sometimes he didn’t.<\/p>\n Then Rebecca showed him a video.<\/p>\n Matthew was laughing at something outside the frame.<\/p>\n Leo went completely still.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n He replayed it.<\/p>\n Then again.<\/p>\n \u201cHe laughs like me.\u201d<\/p>\n Rebecca covered her mouth.<\/p>\n Leo smiled.<\/p>\n It was the first uncomplicated moment between them.<\/p>\n Andrew was easier.<\/p>\n Perhaps because he wasn’t carrying the same guilt.<\/p>\n He didn’t arrive claiming to be an uncle.<\/p>\n He simply introduced himself.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m Andrew.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI guess biologically I’m your uncle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know that too.\u201d<\/p>\n Andrew smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. We’ll start there.\u201d<\/p>\n And they did.<\/p>\n Baseball helped.<\/p>\n So did video games.<\/p>\n Eventually, Andrew told Leo stories about Matthew that Rebecca couldn’t.<\/p>\n Not polished stories.<\/p>\n Brother stories.<\/p>\n How Matthew cheated at Monopoly.<\/p>\n How he hated mushrooms.<\/p>\n How he once backed their father’s car into a mailbox and tried to convince everyone the mailbox had been leaning already.<\/p>\n Those details gave Leo something a name and DNA result couldn’t.<\/p>\n They made his father human.<\/p>\n The hardest conversation came almost a year later.<\/p>\n Leo asked me:<\/p>\n \u201cIf my mom had lived, would I have grown up with her instead of you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n The answer hurt.<\/p>\n But it was true.<\/p>\n \u201cWould Rebecca have known me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think Sarah planned for her to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWould Grandpa Charles?\u201d<\/p>\n That was harder.<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo nodded.<\/p>\n Then:<\/p>\n \u201cDo you hate Rebecca?\u201d<\/p>\n I looked across the room.<\/p>\n A decade earlier, the answer might have been easy if I’d known what she’d done.<\/p>\n Now it wasn’t.<\/p>\n \u201cI was very angry with her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you still?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why do you let her come over?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause my anger and your relationship with her aren’t the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n He considered that.<\/p>\n \u201cShe should’ve told us.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut she loved my dad?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI believe she did.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPeople can love somebody and still do something bad?\u201d<\/p>\n I thought of Sarah.<\/p>\n Of Rebecca.<\/p>\n Of Charles.<\/p>\n Of myself.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cFamilies usually are.\u201d<\/p>\n On what would have been Sarah’s thirtieth birthday, we returned to the cemetery.<\/p>\n This time, there were five of us.<\/p>\n Me.<\/p>\n Leo.<\/p>\n Rebecca.<\/p>\n Andrew.<\/p>\n And Andrew’s little daughter, who had recently decided Leo was her favorite cousin.<\/p>\n Leo placed flowers beside Sarah’s stone.<\/p>\n Then he took something from his pocket.<\/p>\n A copy of the old photograph.<\/p>\n Sarah and Matthew.<\/p>\n Me + Matt. Don’t tell Mom yet.<\/strong><\/p>\n He’d asked me if we could leave it there.<\/p>\n I said yes.<\/p>\n Rebecca stood a few feet away, crying quietly.<\/p>\n Afterward, she approached me.<\/p>\n \u201cThere’s something I’ve wanted to say for two years.\u201d<\/p>\n I waited.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. Not because I was afraid. Not because Charles was sick. Not because everyone was grieving.\u201d<\/p>\n She took a breath.<\/p>\n \u201cI made Sarah a promise, and I broke it. You and Leo paid for that.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at her.<\/p>\n For years, I had imagined that learning the truth would somehow fill the hole Sarah left behind.<\/p>\n It didn’t.<\/p>\n Nothing could.<\/p>\n Knowing Matthew’s name didn’t bring my daughter home.<\/p>\n Meeting his family didn’t restore Leo’s parents.<\/p>\n And Rebecca’s apology couldn’t return the decade she’d lost to fear.<\/p>\n But truth didn’t have to repair the past to matter.<\/p>\n Sometimes it simply stopped the past from continuing to control the future.<\/p>\n \u201cI forgive you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n She cried.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I don’t want you to misunderstand what that means.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn’t make those ten years disappear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt means I’m done carrying them every time I look at you.\u201d<\/p>\n She nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cThat is more than I deserve.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe. But I’m not doing it for what you deserve.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked toward Leo.<\/p>\n He and Andrew were standing near Matthew’s photograph, arguing about whether Leo had inherited his father’s crooked smile.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m doing it because we’ve all lost enough time.\u201d<\/p>\n Leo is sixteen now.<\/p>\n The question that haunted his childhood has long since been answered.<\/p>\n He knows his father’s name.<\/p>\n He knows how Matthew died.<\/p>\n He knows Matthew knew he was coming.<\/p>\n Most importantly, he knows he wasn’t a secret because his father didn’t want him.<\/p>\n He was a secret because frightened adults made frightened decisions after a tragedy, and those decisions hardened into silence.<\/p>\n Rebecca is part of our lives now.<\/p>\n Not as a replacement grandmother.<\/p>\n Not as someone entitled to reclaim the years she missed.<\/p>\n Just Rebecca.<\/p>\n Over time, their relationship became whatever Leo wanted it to become.<\/p>\n I remained what I had always been.<\/p>\n The woman who packed his lunches, sat beside him through fevers, applauded too loudly at Little League games, helped with science projects, and made pancakes every Sunday morning.<\/p>\n Finding his father’s family didn’t make me less his family.<\/p>\n It simply gave him more of his own story.<\/p>\n I still have Sarah’s original letter.<\/p>\n It lives in a small fireproof box along with her hospital bracelet, photographs, and the notepad where she wrote the name Leo<\/strong>.<\/p>\n Sometimes I take it out.<\/p>\n For years, I believed the greatest mystery Sarah had left me was the identity of her son’s father.<\/p>\n I was wrong.<\/p>\n The most important thing she left behind wasn’t Matthew’s name.<\/p>\n It was one sentence near the end of her letter:<\/p>\n Mom, if I can’t tell him myself, please make sure Leo grows up knowing he was wanted.<\/strong><\/p>\n For ten years, I couldn’t tell my grandson who his father was.<\/p>\n But without realizing it, I’d already spent every day of his life giving him the answer Sarah cared about most.<\/p>\n He had always been wanted.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I reached for the envelope, but the woman didn’t release it immediately. \u201cThere is something you need to understand first.\u201d \u201cAfter ten years, I think I’ve waited long enough.\u201d She let go. My hands trembled as I turned the envelope over. It was still sealed. Not resealed. Not taped. Sarah had written my name across […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5186,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9067","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\/9067","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=9067"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9067\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9068,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9067\/revisions\/9068"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5186"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9067"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9067"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9067"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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