Jessica nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThose were essentially her instructions.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen did she sign that?\u201d<\/p>\n
The nurse checked the chart.<\/p>\n
\u201cThree years and four months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped walking.<\/p>\n
Three years and four months.<\/p>\n
Four months before our divorce.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat exactly is wrong with her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jessica’s expression softened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think Sarah should tell you herself.\u201d<\/p>\n
She led me down the corridor.<\/p>\n
Sarah was in room 417.<\/p>\n
The door was partially open.<\/p>\n
I pushed it gently.<\/p>\n
She was sitting upright in bed, staring through the window.<\/p>\n
She looked even smaller than she had at Chloe’s wedding.<\/p>\n
An IV line disappeared beneath the sleeve of her hospital gown.<\/p>\n
Her hair was messy.<\/p>\n
Her face was pale.<\/p>\n
But on the bedside table sat a paper cup of coffee.<\/p>\n
Two sugar packets.<\/p>\n
No cream.<\/p>\n
Exactly how she’d taken it for twenty-five years.<\/p>\n
\u201cSarah.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her shoulders stiffened.<\/p>\n
She turned.<\/p>\n
And when she saw me, she closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou weren’t supposed to come.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nearly laughed from disbelief.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou listed me as your emergency contact.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor three years?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked away.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought Claire had changed it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, she didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
I stepped closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat’s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of cancer?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled immediately.<\/p>\n
And that was when I knew this wasn’t new.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
She said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long, Sarah?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFour years.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room seemed to tilt.<\/p>\n
Four years.<\/p>\n
Our divorce had been three years ago.<\/p>\n
I sat down because my legs stopped cooperating.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had cancer when you left me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer after months of vague symptoms she’d initially dismissed.<\/p>\n
Bloating.<\/p>\n
Fatigue.<\/p>\n
Pain she attributed to getting older.<\/p>\n
By the time doctors identified it, she needed major treatment.<\/p>\n
She had surgery.<\/p>\n
Chemotherapy followed.<\/p>\n
There had been periods when scans looked encouraging.<\/p>\n
Then recurrence.<\/p>\n
More treatment.<\/p>\n
More uncertainty.<\/p>\n
But the details barely registered.<\/p>\n
One thought kept hammering inside my head.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew when you asked for the divorce.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I knew you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou would’ve stayed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course I would’ve stayed!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
She said it so quietly that I almost missed it.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was the point.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t sit anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou divorced me because you thought I would stay with my sick wife?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou would’ve stopped everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSarah\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou would have sold the shop if you had to. You would’ve slept in hospital chairs. You would’ve turned our entire life into keeping me alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn’t want that for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn’t get to decide that!\u201d<\/p>\n
My voice cracked loudly enough that someone outside the room slowed down.<\/p>\n
I lowered it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn’t get to choose what loving you was worth to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah began crying.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was scared.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo was I! For three years I thought you stopped loving me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never stopped.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why did you make me believe you did?\u201d<\/p>\n
She covered her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I thought it would hurt less than watching you lose me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I remembered the ring.<\/p>\n
I pulled it from my pocket.<\/p>\n
I’d carried it every day since the wedding.<\/p>\n
Her wedding ring.<\/p>\n
Sarah stared at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy did you leave this?\u201d<\/p>\n
She couldn’t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas that goodbye?\u201d<\/p>\n
Finally, she whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The anger drained out of me.<\/p>\n
Not because I forgave her.<\/p>\n
Because suddenly I understood what that night had been for her.<\/p>\n
She hadn’t returned to the house because Rachel had successfully reunited two stubborn ex-spouses.<\/p>\n
Sarah had gone back because she thought she might never see it again.<\/p>\n
The kitchen.<\/p>\n
The coffee maker.<\/p>\n
The living room floor.<\/p>\n
Me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew you were sick at the wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy latest scans were bad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow bad?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cBad enough that I stopped making long-term plans.\u201d<\/p>\n
I closed my fist around the ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you decided to give me one night and disappear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted one memory that wasn’t a hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat beside her again.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could’ve had three years of memories.\u201d<\/p>\n
She started sobbing.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Claire arrived an hour later.<\/p>\n
The moment I saw Sarah’s sister, another piece clicked into place.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
Claire didn’t deny it.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe made me promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor three years?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you helped her lie to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI helped my sister through cancer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could’ve done that without helping her erase me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Claire looked toward Sarah.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told her that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah stared at her hands.<\/p>\n
Claire continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told her a hundred times that what she was doing wasn’t noble. She thought she was setting you free. I told her she was making a decision for you that wasn’t hers to make.\u201d<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
Not because it absolved Claire.<\/p>\n
But because it stopped Sarah’s decision from being framed as some beautiful act of sacrifice.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t.<\/p>\n
It was love mixed with fear.<\/p>\n
And fear had made it cruel.<\/p>\n
Then I asked about the divorce itself.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did the nurse mean about your directive?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah wiped her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore the divorce, I filled out advance-care paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd left me in it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
She gave me the saddest smile I’d ever seen.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause when they asked who I trusted to make decisions if I couldn’t speak for myself, I couldn’t think of anyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence hurt more than everything before it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou trusted me with your life but not with the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was nothing romantic about that contradiction.<\/p>\n
It was devastating.<\/p>\n
I spent that night at the hospital.<\/p>\n
Not as her husband.<\/p>\n
Not yet as anything.<\/p>\n
Just David.<\/p>\n
The man she’d once married.<\/p>\n
The man she’d divorced.<\/p>\n
The man she’d still trusted enough to place his name on a medical directive she never bothered to remove.<\/p>\n
The next morning, her oncologist spoke with Sarah while I was present at her invitation.<\/p>\n
Her disease had progressed.<\/p>\n
But \u201cprogressed\u201d did not mean there was nothing to discuss.<\/p>\n
There were treatment options.<\/p>\n
Goals had to be clarified.<\/p>\n
Benefits weighed against side effects.<\/p>\n
Sarah needed to decide what she wanted.<\/p>\n
And this time, I refused to make the opposite version of her mistake.<\/p>\n
I didn’t tell her she had to fight for me.<\/p>\n
I didn’t demand another treatment because I wasn’t ready.<\/p>\n
I asked:<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah looked surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She began crying.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen we’ll start there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I called Rachel later.<\/p>\n
She swore so loudly when I told her that I had to hold the phone away from my ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe told me she’d had health problems,\u201d Rachel said. \u201cNot cancer. I knew something was wrong, David. I didn’t know this.\u201d<\/p>\n
That explained the wedding setup.<\/p>\n
Rachel hadn’t orchestrated a final goodbye.<\/p>\n
She genuinely thought two stubborn people had wasted three years pretending they didn’t still love each other.<\/p>\n
In a way, she had been right.<\/p>\n
Just not for the reason she thought.<\/p>\n
I remained in San Diego for six weeks.<\/p>\n
My shop manager kept the business running.<\/p>\n
I rented a small apartment rather than sleeping indefinitely in hospital rooms.<\/p>\n
Sarah spent some days in the hospital and others with Claire.<\/p>\n
We talked.<\/p>\n
Really talked.<\/p>\n
More than we had during the final five years of our marriage.<\/p>\n
Some conversations were tender.<\/p>\n
Others were awful.<\/p>\n
I told her what the divorce had done to me.<\/p>\n
She listened without defending herself.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you’d eventually meet somebody,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI tried.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRachel.\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid that bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarah laughed bitterly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI threw up the first time she told me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom chemotherapy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite everything, we both laughed.<\/p>\n
Then she became serious.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted you to move on until you actually tried.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s very generous of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never claimed to be emotionally consistent.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sounded like the Sarah I remembered.<\/p>\n
One afternoon, I asked the question I’d been avoiding.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you could go back, would you still divorce me?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn’t answer immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I confused love with sacrifice.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
She continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought loving you meant removing myself before I became a burden.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow I think loving someone means giving them enough truth to make their own choice.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the first apology that reached me.<\/p>\n
Not because it erased what she’d done.<\/p>\n
Because she finally understood it.<\/p>\n
Her condition improved enough for her to leave the hospital.<\/p>\n
Not cured.<\/p>\n
Not magically healed.<\/p>\n
Stable enough to continue treatment as an outpatient.<\/p>\n
A month later, Sarah asked me to drive her somewhere.<\/p>\n
She directed me to a storage facility.<\/p>\n
Inside one unit were boxes.<\/p>\n
Dozens of them.<\/p>\n
I recognized my handwriting on some.<\/p>\n
Christmas decorations.<\/p>\n
Old photographs.<\/p>\n
Things from our marriage I thought she’d thrown away.<\/p>\n
Then I saw a wooden box.<\/p>\n
Inside were letters.<\/p>\n
One for every birthday I’d had since the divorce.<\/p>\n
Three of them.<\/p>\n
Never mailed.<\/p>\n
I opened the first.<\/p>\n
Dear David,<\/strong><\/p>\n Today you’re fifty-one. I hope someone made you that terrible chocolate cake you pretend to like\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n I stopped reading.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wrote to me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEvery birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t you send them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause then the divorce wouldn’t work.\u201d<\/p>\n I almost became angry again.<\/p>\n Then I noticed another stack.<\/p>\n Those envelopes were labeled with future dates.<\/p>\n My fifty-fourth birthday.<\/p>\n Fifty-fifth.<\/p>\n Sixtieth.<\/p>\n Sixty-fifth.<\/p>\n I stared at her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are these?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn case I wasn’t here.\u201d<\/p>\n I closed the box.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n Sarah flinched.<\/p>\n \u201cNo more letters from dead people telling the living how to live.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDavid\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you have something to tell me, tell me while you’re here.\u201d<\/p>\n She stared at me for a long time.<\/p>\n Then nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n We took the letters home.<\/p>\n She opened every one.<\/p>\n And read them to me herself.<\/p>\n We didn’t remarry immediately.<\/p>\n That surprised everyone.<\/p>\n People expected the story to end with me putting the ring back on her finger beside a hospital bed.<\/p>\n But twenty-two years of marriage and three years of deception couldn’t be repaired by jewelry.<\/p>\n Sarah needed treatment.<\/p>\n I needed time.<\/p>\n We both needed therapy.<\/p>\n I also had to understand something uncomfortable about myself.<\/p>\n Sarah hadn’t invented the idea that I fixed everything.<\/p>\n I did.<\/p>\n Broken faucet?<\/p>\n David fixed it.<\/p>\n Money problem?<\/p>\n David handled it.<\/p>\n Family crisis?<\/p>\n Give it to David.<\/p>\n I’d built part of my identity around being useful.<\/p>\n Sarah had begun believing that needing me would consume me.<\/p>\n She was wrong to make the decision for me.<\/p>\n But I could understand how we’d arrived there.<\/p>\n We had both spent years performing roles instead of asking what the other person actually needed.<\/p>\n Nine months after that hospital call, Sarah came back to Portland.<\/p>\n Not permanently at first.<\/p>\n She stayed for two weeks.<\/p>\n Then a month.<\/p>\n Then longer.<\/p>\n One morning I found her standing beside the hydrangeas near the garage.<\/p>\n \u201cThey’re still blooming,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou asked me about them once.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n She touched one of the flowers.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I missed them.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cYou could’ve just said you missed me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat would’ve ruined my whole emotionally repressed personality.\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed.<\/p>\n She did too.<\/p>\n Then she reached into her pocket.<\/p>\n The ring.<\/p>\n She held it out.<\/p>\n \u201cI think this belongs to you.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n Her face fell.<\/p>\n I took the ring from her palm.<\/p>\n \u201cIt belongs to you.\u201d<\/p>\n Then I placed it back in her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I’m not putting it on you yet.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked confused.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause if we do this again, we’re not continuing the old marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n I took her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cWe build a new one.\u201d<\/p>\n We did eventually marry again.<\/p>\n Small ceremony.<\/p>\n Backyard.<\/p>\n Claire.<\/p>\n Rachel.<\/p>\n A few friends.<\/p>\n No dramatic vows about never leaving.<\/p>\n We’d already learned how dangerous grand promises could become when people stopped talking.<\/p>\n Instead, Sarah said:<\/p>\n \u201cI promise not to decide for you what you’re strong enough to survive.\u201d<\/p>\n And I said:<\/p>\n \u201cI promise not to treat loving you like a problem I’m responsible for solving.\u201d<\/p>\n Rachel cried louder than anyone.<\/p>\n Then denied it afterward.<\/p>\n Sarah’s cancer didn’t disappear because we reconciled.<\/p>\n There were good scans.<\/p>\n Then concerning ones.<\/p>\n Different treatments.<\/p>\n Weeks when she had enough energy to argue with me about paint colors.<\/p>\n Others when getting from the bedroom to the porch exhausted her.<\/p>\n We learned to live inside uncertainty instead of pretending uncertainty wasn’t there.<\/p>\n Sometimes I drove her to treatment.<\/p>\n Sometimes Claire did.<\/p>\n Sometimes Sarah insisted on going alone because she wanted two hours where she wasn’t anyone’s wife, sister, or patient.<\/p>\n I learned to let her.<\/p>\n That was love too.<\/p>\n Three years after the hospital call, we were sitting on the same back porch where she’d originally asked for a divorce.<\/p>\n Sarah had a blanket over her legs.<\/p>\n I was drinking coffee.<\/p>\n She looked toward the oak trees.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what I regret most?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe divorce?\u201d<\/p>\n She shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cNot exactly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat, then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThinking I had to disappear before you could be happy.\u201d<\/p>\n I took her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn’t very happy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI noticed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou weren’t either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n We sat quietly.<\/p>\n But it wasn’t the silence we’d had before.<\/p>\n That silence had been avoidance.<\/p>\n This one was peace.<\/p>\n There was a difference.<\/p>\n I still have the ring.<\/p>\n Sarah wears it now.<\/p>\n But occasionally I remember waking that morning after Chloe’s wedding and finding it in the center of my pillow.<\/p>\n For two weeks, I believed it meant:<\/p>\n Goodbye.<\/strong><\/p>\n Later, I thought it meant:<\/p>\n I’m dying.<\/strong><\/p>\n Eventually, I understood what it had really meant.<\/p>\n I’m terrified.<\/strong><\/p>\n Sarah hadn’t divorced me because she stopped loving me.<\/p>\n She divorced me because she believed love required her to make my choice for me.<\/p>\n She wanted to spare me from watching her suffer.<\/p>\n Instead, she gave me three years of grieving someone who was still alive.<\/p>\n Cancer had threatened her life.<\/p>\n But fear had nearly taken something from us before cancer ever could.<\/p>\n The hospital didn’t reveal that our divorce was legally fake.<\/p>\n The papers were real.<\/p>\n The signatures were real.<\/p>\n The marriage had truly ended.<\/p>\n What wasn’t real was the reason I’d been given for it.<\/p>\n And perhaps that was harder to accept.<\/p>\n Because there was no villain.<\/p>\n No affair.<\/p>\n No secret lover.<\/p>\n Just two people who had loved each other for twenty-two years and somehow stopped trusting that love could survive the truth.<\/p>\n The second time we married, we kept the old coffee maker.<\/p>\n Sarah still hated it.<\/p>\n I still refused to replace it.<\/p>\n One morning, while it sputtered and groaned on the kitchen counter, she looked at me and smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cThat horrible thing really refuses to die.\u201d<\/p>\n I poured two cups.<\/p>\n \u201cSo do we.\u201d<\/p>\n She rolled her eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was unbearably cheesy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou married me twice.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s my defense?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s the evidence.\u201d<\/p>\n She laughed.<\/p>\n And this time, when I made coffee for two, I didn’t have to remember halfway through that I was alone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Jessica nodded. \u201cThose were essentially her instructions.\u201d My mouth went dry. \u201cWhen did she sign that?\u201d The nurse checked the chart. \u201cThree years and four months ago.\u201d I stopped walking. Three years and four months. Four months before our divorce. \u201cWhat exactly is wrong with her?\u201d Jessica’s expression softened. \u201cI think Sarah should tell you […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5187,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9186","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\/9186","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=9186"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9186\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9187,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9186\/revisions\/9187"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5187"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9186"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9186"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tappyli.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9186"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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