Kayla did not read my son\u2019s letter at the cabin.<\/p>\n
She slipped it carefully into her purse.<\/p>\n
Then she returned to the table.<\/p>\n
Nobody asked about it.<\/p>\n
I was proud of them for that.<\/p>\n
Curiosity is powerful.<\/p>\n
Respect is a choice.<\/p>\n
Three weeks later, Kayla called me.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I come over?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She arrived carrying the letter.<\/p>\n
It had been opened.<\/p>\n
She sat in the same kitchen chair where, years earlier, she had accused me of turning the twins against her.<\/p>\n
The difference between those two women was visible.<\/p>\n
Not in her face.<\/p>\n
In the way she occupied the room.<\/p>\n
The old Kayla entered spaces expecting them to rearrange around her.<\/p>\n
This Kayla asked where she should sit.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
She looked surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re asking?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou came here carrying the letter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFair.\u201d<\/p>\n
She placed it on the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going to show you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I want to tell you one part.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
My son had written the letter during a difficult period in their marriage.<\/p>\n
He knew Kayla was unhappy.<\/p>\n
He knew she felt trapped by money problems and early parenthood.<\/p>\n
He did not know he would die.<\/p>\n
The letter was not a farewell.<\/p>\n
It was an attempt to repair their marriage.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me he was scared too,\u201d Kayla said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFailing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I smiled sadly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds like him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe thought I believed he had everything figured out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe never did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe asked me to stop treating every responsibility like something stolen from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence had survived decades waiting for her.<\/p>\n
Kayla wiped her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said we could build a different life without abandoning the one we had.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood why she had come to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think if you had read it then, you might have stayed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s all?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is all anyone can honestly say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI keep wanting one thing that explains everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere usually isn\u2019t one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf he had given it to me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKayla.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo not turn a letter he never delivered into another reason your choice belonged to someone else.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words hurt her.<\/p>\n
I saw it.<\/p>\n
But she nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d<\/p>\n
My son\u2019s letter could explain his concern.<\/p>\n
It could reveal the marriage he had been trying to save.<\/p>\n
It could prove he understood more than any of us realized.<\/p>\n
It could not make him responsible for what Kayla did after his death.<\/p>\n
She knew that now.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I had stayed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I had called the next morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wish I had come back when they were one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFour.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTwelve.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice broke.<\/p>\n
\u201cAny time before money made me brave.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the wound she would carry.<\/p>\n
Not that she had returned for imperfect reasons.<\/p>\n
That she had allowed selfish motives to accomplish what love alone should have made her do years earlier.<\/p>\n
I reached across the table.<\/p>\n
I did not take her hand.<\/p>\n
I placed mine beside it.<\/p>\n
Close.<\/p>\n
That was enough.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou cannot raise them now.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou cannot become the mother they needed then.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another nod.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you can decide what kind of person knows them today.\u201d<\/p>\n
She cried quietly.<\/p>\n
Then she laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou really did use all your words on me when I was twenty-four.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cApparently I found a reserve supply.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stayed for coffee.<\/p>\n
When she left, she took the letter.<\/p>\n
I never read it.<\/p>\n
I never asked again.<\/p>\n
Years moved faster after that.<\/p>\n
Perhaps they always do once children become adults.<\/p>\n
Jennifer\u2019s daughter learned to walk.<\/p>\n
Then talk.<\/p>\n
Then argue.<\/p>\n
Margaret Elise inherited Jennifer\u2019s stubbornness, Daniel\u2019s patience and an alarming willingness to negotiate bedtime.<\/p>\n
Lizzie became her favorite aunt partly because Lizzie ignored half the rules.<\/p>\n
Jennifer complained.<\/p>\n
I reminded her that sisters existed partly to make parenting harder.<\/p>\n
Kayla became \u201cGrandma Kay.\u201d<\/p>\n
The title emerged naturally.<\/p>\n
Nobody announced it.<\/p>\n
One afternoon, Margaret Elise used it while reaching for Kayla.<\/p>\n
Kayla froze.<\/p>\n
Jennifer noticed.<\/p>\n
So did I.<\/p>\n
Nobody commented.<\/p>\n
Kayla picked up the child.<\/p>\n
That evening she cried in my driveway for ten minutes before she could drive home.<\/p>\n
I pretended not to see.<\/p>\n
Some dignity should be protected.<\/p>\n
The cabin became our gathering place.<\/p>\n
Every repaired board acquired another memory.<\/p>\n
Children scratched knees there.<\/p>\n
Adults argued there.<\/p>\n
Jennifer once burned dinner so badly we ate sandwiches on the porch.<\/p>\n
Lizzie eventually married too, though she threatened to cancel the wedding every time someone asked about seating charts.<\/p>\n
Kayla attended that wedding.<\/p>\n
This time, Lizzie asked her to sit in the family section.<\/p>\n
Kayla looked at the chair for several seconds before taking it.<\/p>\n
I sat two seats away.<\/p>\n
Between us was an empty chair with my son\u2019s photograph.<\/p>\n
Lizzie had arranged it.<\/p>\n
No speech.<\/p>\n
No explanation.<\/p>\n
Just his face.<\/p>\n
After the ceremony, Kayla touched the frame.<\/p>\n
Then she walked away.<\/p>\n
By then, Graham\u2019s charitable funds had grown.<\/p>\n
Jennifer continued serving on the foundation board even after leadership passed to Allison and her brothers.<\/p>\n
The education fund helped hundreds of families.<\/p>\n
Whenever publicity teams wanted to tell Jennifer\u2019s personal story, she refused to turn me into a saint or Kayla into a monster.<\/p>\n
\u201cFamilies are complicated,\u201d she would say.<\/p>\n
That was all.<\/p>\n
Lizzie was less restrained.<\/p>\n
When someone once called me \u201cselfless,\u201d she replied, \u201cYou\u2019ve never seen Grandma hide the good cookies.\u201d<\/p>\n
I considered removing her from my will.<\/p>\n
She reminded me that she already owned half a cabin.<\/p>\n
We remained evenly matched.<\/p>\n
Kayla continued speaking occasionally with parents attempting reunification.<\/p>\n
She never used the twins\u2019 names without permission.<\/p>\n
That detail might seem small.<\/p>\n
It was not.<\/p>\n
Her original failure had involved treating other people\u2019s lives as material for the story she needed.<\/p>\n
Learning to ask permission was part of becoming different.<\/p>\n
She also stopped describing herself as someone who \u201clost\u201d her daughters.<\/p>\n
She had once used that phrase often.<\/p>\n
Eventually she changed it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI left them.\u201d<\/p>\n
The first time I heard her say it, I understood that accountability had finally become part of her language.<\/p>\n
No passive voice.<\/p>\n
No fate.<\/p>\n
No circumstances carrying her away.<\/p>\n
She left.<\/p>\n
Then she returned.<\/p>\n
Both were choices.<\/p>\n
The twins\u2019 relationship with her never became identical to the relationship they had with me.<\/p>\n
It could not.<\/p>\n
History matters.<\/p>\n
Jennifer called me when she was frightened.<\/p>\n
Lizzie still used my house as an unofficial storage facility.<\/p>\n
When either needed somewhere unquestioned, they came home.<\/p>\n
Kayla understood that.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it hurt her.<\/p>\n
She did not make the hurt their responsibility.<\/p>\n
That was love too.<\/p>\n
Late one summer, nearly three decades after the afternoon Kayla first left the twins with me, we gathered at the cabin for my birthday.<\/p>\n
I objected to the number of candles.<\/p>\n
Nobody cared.<\/p>\n
Jennifer brought cake.<\/p>\n
Lizzie brought another because apparently our family had learned nothing from the twins\u2019 twentieth birthday.<\/p>\n
Children ran between the porch and the lake.<\/p>\n
Daniel grilled food.<\/p>\n
Allison arrived with her husband.<\/p>\n
Kayla came carrying flowers.<\/p>\n
No country club.<\/p>\n
No attorney.<\/p>\n
No financial adviser.<\/p>\n
No inheritance discussion.<\/p>\n
Just people arriving because they wanted to be there.<\/p>\n
After dinner, Lizzie announced that we needed a photograph.<\/p>\n
Everyone groaned.<\/p>\n
She ignored us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe never get everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have approximately six thousand pictures,\u201d Jennifer said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMost contain somebody blinking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s because you take twenty at a time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExactly. Statistical strategy.\u201d<\/p>\n
She positioned her phone on the porch railing.<\/p>\n
We gathered badly.<\/p>\n
Children refused to stand still.<\/p>\n
Daniel was holding a plate.<\/p>\n
Allison\u2019s husband had one shoe wet because he had stepped too close to the lake.<\/p>\n
I stood near the center.<\/p>\n
Jennifer came beside me.<\/p>\n
Lizzie stood on my other side.<\/p>\n
Habit.<\/p>\n
Then both paused.<\/p>\n
Kayla remained near the edge.<\/p>\n
Jennifer looked at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cKayla.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kayla looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome here.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jennifer pointed beside Lizzie.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kayla moved into the group.<\/p>\n
Not between the twins.<\/p>\n
Not replacing anyone.<\/p>\n
Beside them.<\/p>\n
Exactly where Jennifer had asked.<\/p>\n
Lizzie checked the timer.<\/p>\n
\u201cTen seconds.\u201d<\/p>\n
Everyone attempted to face forward.<\/p>\n
A child screamed because another child had stolen a stick.<\/p>\n
Daniel started laughing.<\/p>\n
Jennifer told everyone to ignore it.<\/p>\n
The timer blinked.<\/p>\n
Five.<\/p>\n
Four.<\/p>\n
Three.<\/p>\n
Then Lizzie said, predictably, \u201cAt least nobody made us coordinate outfits.\u201d<\/p>\n
We all laughed.<\/p>\n
The camera clicked.<\/p>\n
Later that night, after everyone had gone inside, I remained on the porch.<\/p>\n
Kayla came out.<\/p>\n
She sat beside me.<\/p>\n
For a while, we listened to the lake.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou remember that night?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
I knew which one.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI called you at two in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you they wouldn\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward the cabin windows.<\/p>\n
Inside, Jennifer was trying to stop her daughter from eating another piece of cake.<\/p>\n
Lizzie was helping.<\/p>\n
Poorly.<\/p>\n
Kayla said, \u201cI was wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey remembered without remembering.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was exactly it.<\/p>\n
Children do not need a conscious memory of abandonment for its consequences to shape them.<\/p>\n
They learn who arrives.<\/p>\n
Who stays.<\/p>\n
Who answers.<\/p>\n
Who disappears.<\/p>\n
But they can also learn something else.<\/p>\n
That what happened to them does not have to dictate every relationship afterward.<\/p>\n
Kayla looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you forgive me?\u201d<\/p>\n
After all those years, she finally asked directly.<\/p>\n
I considered my answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes filled.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut forgiveness did not make what you did acceptable.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt did not give you those years back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt did not make you their mother in the way I became their parent.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd it does not mean I would make different choices if I had to protect them again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Kayla nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was why I could finally say it.<\/p>\n
Forgiveness was safe because she no longer demanded that it erase reality.<\/p>\n
She wiped her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did not earn forgiveness like wages.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why give it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I no longer need anger to protect them.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked through the window.<\/p>\n
Neither did she.<\/p>\n
Not anymore.<\/p>\n
The girls could protect themselves.<\/p>\n
They had boundaries.<\/p>\n
Judgment.<\/p>\n
Lives.<\/p>\n
Families of their own.<\/p>\n
Kayla had no power to abandon helpless babies now.<\/p>\n
She could only decide whether to be worthy of the adult women who sometimes opened the door.<\/p>\n
The next morning, Lizzie showed everyone the photograph.<\/p>\n
It was terrible.<\/p>\n
One child was looking sideways.<\/p>\n
Daniel still held the plate.<\/p>\n
I had my eyes half closed.<\/p>\n
Jennifer appeared to be speaking.<\/p>\n
Allison\u2019s husband was laughing.<\/p>\n
Kayla was not looking directly at the camera.<\/p>\n
For one second, my heart tightened.<\/p>\n
Then I saw where she was looking.<\/p>\n
At Jennifer and Lizzie.<\/p>\n
But unlike the country-club photograph, there was no panic in her expression.<\/p>\n
No calculation.<\/p>\n
No fear that they would ruin a plan.<\/p>\n
She was simply smiling.<\/p>\n
Lizzie announced, \u201cPerfect.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jennifer protested.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mouth is open.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAuthenticity.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDelete it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNever.\u201d<\/p>\n
She printed it.<\/p>\n
Of course she did.<\/p>\n
One copy went to my house.<\/p>\n
One to the cabin.<\/p>\n
One to Jennifer.<\/p>\n
One to Kayla.<\/p>\n
Years earlier, Kayla had tried to use a photograph to manufacture a family that did not exist.<\/p>\n
Now she had a photograph of a family she could not control.<\/p>\n
That was why it was real.<\/p>\n
People stood where they chose.<\/p>\n
Some were connected by blood.<\/p>\n
Some by marriage.<\/p>\n
Some by loss.<\/p>\n
Some by years of showing up.<\/p>\n
My son was absent from the picture.<\/p>\n
Graham too.<\/p>\n
Yet both men had left marks on the people standing there.<\/p>\n
Not merely money.<\/p>\n
Choices.<\/p>\n
Warnings.<\/p>\n
Letters.<\/p>\n
Memories.<\/p>\n
Opportunities.<\/p>\n
The twins kept their father\u2019s letter at the cabin.<\/p>\n
They never displayed the original publicly.<\/p>\n
It belonged to them.<\/p>\n
Kayla kept my son\u2019s letter private too.<\/p>\n
Some stories became stronger when not everyone had access to every page.<\/p>\n
As for the property, Jennifer and Lizzie eventually placed the cabin into a family trust.<\/p>\n
Not Graham\u2019s kind.<\/p>\n
Not something designed around influence or wealth.<\/p>\n
Their trust contained one unusual instruction.<\/p>\n
The cabin could never be used as leverage to force family members into maintaining relationships they did not want.<\/p>\n
When Jennifer told me, I laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is remarkably specific.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve had remarkably specific problems.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fair enough.<\/p>\n
On the final evening of that summer, I watched my granddaughters walk down toward the lake.<\/p>\n
They were talking over each other.<\/p>\n
Still sisters.<\/p>\n
Still the babies I remembered.<\/p>\n
Not really.<\/p>\n
That is the strange privilege of raising children.<\/p>\n
Every age remains visible inside the next one.<\/p>\n
I could still see Jennifer asleep against my shoulder after Kayla\u2019s midnight phone call.<\/p>\n
I could still see Lizzie staring up from her bassinet.<\/p>\n
I remembered believing I was too old to begin again.<\/p>\n
I remembered counting formula cans.<\/p>\n
Working late.<\/p>\n
Signing guardianship papers.<\/p>\n
Watching school plays.<\/p>\n
Selling my son\u2019s truck.<\/p>\n
Packing college boxes.<\/p>\n
Standing at graduations.<\/p>\n
Opening the door when Kayla returned.<\/p>\n
At the time, I thought staying was simply what had to be done.<\/p>\n
Only later did I understand how many lives are built from that ordinary decision.<\/p>\n
Stay today.<\/p>\n
Then tomorrow.<\/p>\n
Then the day after.<\/p>\n
Until a frightened baby becomes a woman capable of deciding for herself who belongs in her life.<\/p>\n
Kayla had once believed biology guaranteed her a place.<\/p>\n
Then she believed money could restore it.<\/p>\n
Then photographs.<\/p>\n
Then apologies.<\/p>\n
None could.<\/p>\n
Her place came only through years of respecting boundaries after she returned.<\/p>\n
Small choices.<\/p>\n
Repeated.<\/p>\n
The same way she had once built absence.<\/p>\n
The same way I had built presence.<\/p>\n
Jennifer turned from the lake.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome down here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy knees disagree.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lizzie shouted, \u201cWe have chairs.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have mosquitoes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe also have wine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you lead with that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Their laughter carried across the water.<\/p>\n
I walked toward them slowly.<\/p>\n
Kayla came out of the cabin behind me.<\/p>\n
She did not rush ahead.<\/p>\n
She did not try to take my arm.<\/p>\n
She simply walked beside me.<\/p>\n
At the shoreline, Jennifer handed me a chair.<\/p>\n
Lizzie poured the wine.<\/p>\n
Kayla sat a little farther down.<\/p>\n
The sun lowered behind the trees.<\/p>\n
Nobody discussed the past.<\/p>\n
There was no need.<\/p>\n
It was present without controlling us.<\/p>\n
Before darkness settled, Margaret Elise ran down from the cabin holding the latest family photograph.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandma!\u201d<\/p>\n
Three women answered.<\/p>\n
The child stopped, confused.<\/p>\n
We laughed.<\/p>\n
Then Jennifer pointed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich grandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
Margaret Elise considered us with enormous seriousness.<\/p>\n
Finally, she ran toward me.<\/p>\n
Kayla laughed too.<\/p>\n
There was no pain in it that she asked anyone else to fix.<\/p>\n
That, more than any speech, told me we had reached the true ending.<\/p>\n
Not a perfect family.<\/p>\n
Not a restored past.<\/p>\n
Not a mother magically receiving the childhood years she had abandoned.<\/p>\n
Something harder.<\/p>\n
A family that told the truth.<\/p>\n
A mother who finally accepted that returning did not entitle her to what she had missed.<\/p>\n
Two daughters who learned they could forgive without surrendering judgment.<\/p>\n
And a grandmother who discovered that raising them had never been a temporary burden placed on her life.<\/p>\n
They had become the life.<\/p>\n
Years ago, Kayla told me the babies would not remember the night she left.<\/p>\n
She was right about one thing.<\/p>\n
Jennifer and Lizzie could not remember the phone ringing at two in the morning.<\/p>\n
They could not remember their mother\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
They could not remember me standing between their bassinets wondering how I would manage.<\/p>\n
But they remembered everything that came afterward.<\/p>\n
Not as a story.<\/p>\n
As a life.<\/p>\n
And in the end, that mattered far more.<\/p>\n
Kayla did not read my son\u2019s letter at the cabin. She slipped it carefully into her purse. Then she returned to the table. Nobody asked about it. I was proud … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":687,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-712","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-sharestory"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/712","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=712"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/712\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":731,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/712\/revisions\/731"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/687"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=712"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=712"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=712"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}