Her brother disappeared through the kitchen doorway. Nate was already reaching for his keys. I grabbed my coat. Ron moved in front of us. \u201cDon\u2019t go there.\u201d Nate stopped. \u201cMove.\u201d \u201cNathan, listen to me.\u201d \u201cMove.\u201d \u201cYou have no idea what he\u2019s capable of.\u201d \u201cYou said the property was a dump.\u201d Ron\u2019s face twisted. \u201cThis isn\u2019t funny.\u201d \u201cI\u2019m not laughing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal picked up her purse. \u201cI\u2019m coming.\u201d \u201cNo,\u201d Ron said. She turned toward him. \u201cYou gave up the right to tell me what to do sometime around 1982.\u201d Judy covered her face. Kim and Stacy stood frozen. Jeff asked, \u201cShould we call the police?\u201d Ron answered immediately. \u201cNo.\u201d Too immediately. Nate looked at him. \u201cWhy not?\u201d Ron\u2019s silence said everything. I pulled up the camera feed again. Walter had reappeared in the kitchen.<\/p>\n
He was carrying something now. A hammer. He crossed toward the basement door. Then the feed froze. Connection lost. Nate headed for the door. Ron caught his arm. Nate spun. \u201cGet your hand off me.\u201d \u201cYou go down there, you are going to make this worse.\u201d \u201cWhat is worse than this?\u201d \u201cYou don’t understand.\u201d \u201cThen explain it.\u201d Ron looked toward Opal. Then toward Judy. His voice dropped. \u201cWalter didn\u2019t hide that letter from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe hid it from himself.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody understood.<\/p>\n
Ron continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe wanted you to find it if he failed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFailed at what?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Ron stared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cAt finding the second ledger.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal\u2019s expression changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cSecond?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said there was one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are two.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal sat down.<\/p>\n
Slowly.<\/p>\n
Ron looked at Nate.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe first ledger is what Walter told me about. Bribes. Loans. Arson. Fraud. Half the town\u2019s respectable grandfathers are probably in it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the second?\u201d Nate asked.<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s face seemed to age ten years.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe second ledger is why Harold Miller had so much cash.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke.<\/p>\n
Nate said, \u201cWhat\u2019s in it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cNames of people he paid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked toward the dark window.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo disappear.\u201d<\/p>\n
A chill ran through me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
Opal did.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father helped people leave.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice was faint.<\/p>\n
\u201cDuring the war. Afterward. Women running from husbands. Men running from debts. People who needed new names.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd some people who were running from the law.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo some of those people never actually left.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room felt colder.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s voice was barely above a whisper.<\/p>\n
\u201cHarold gave them identities.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my stomach drop.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhose?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked toward his mother.<\/p>\n
Opal had gone completely still.<\/p>\n
He said, \u201cDead people\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
No one moved.<\/p>\n
Then Opal whispered, \u201cDaddy wouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I found one page.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the north wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe cash?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was wrapped inside it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat names?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cFive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal slammed her palm onto the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo not lie to me again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron flinched.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at Nate.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne of the names was Walter Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went silent.<\/p>\n
Opal laughed once.<\/p>\n
A thin, disbelieving sound.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter is my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was born in that house.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why would he need another identity?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron said nothing.<\/p>\n
Nate stepped closer.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s eyes moved to Opal.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter Miller died in 1949.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI found the death certificate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe drowned in the river when he was eleven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is not true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe record exists.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI lived with him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor twenty years after 1949.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal stared at him.<\/p>\n
Slowly, horribly, I began to understand.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe man on our camera,\u201d I whispered, \u201cisn\u2019t Walter Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen who is he?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
My phone vibrated again.<\/p>\n
Another camera alert.<\/p>\n
Nate grabbed it first.<\/p>\n
The driveway camera.<\/p>\n
Headlights appeared at the edge of the property.<\/p>\n
A vehicle had just pulled in.<\/p>\n
Not one vehicle.<\/p>\n
Two.<\/p>\n
The first was an old dark sedan.<\/p>\n
The second was a pickup.<\/p>\n
Walter\u2014or whoever Walter really was\u2014stepped from the house and waited on the porch.<\/p>\n
A man climbed out of the pickup.<\/p>\n
Even through the grainy night camera, I recognized him.<\/p>\n
Nate did too.<\/p>\n
His face went blank.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the screen.<\/p>\n
The man walking toward Walter was Mr. Dobbs.<\/p>\n
The county official who had conducted our auction.<\/p>\n
The man who had declared the Miller house sold.<\/p>\n
Mr. Dobbs climbed the porch steps.<\/p>\n
Walter handed him something.<\/p>\n
A folder.<\/p>\n
Then both men turned toward the driveway camera at the exact same time.<\/p>\n
As if they knew where it was.<\/p>\n
Mr. Dobbs raised one hand.<\/p>\n
And pointed directly at the lens.<\/p>\n
The picture went black.<\/p>\n
Connection lost.<\/p>\n
Nate grabbed his keys.<\/p>\n
Ron blocked the doorway again.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMove.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf Dobbs is there, you cannot go.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked terrified now.<\/p>\n
Not nervous.<\/p>\n
Not embarrassed.<\/p>\n
Terrified.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Dobbs wasn\u2019t supposed to let you win that auction.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe investor in the vest was supposed to buy the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
I remembered him.<\/p>\n
The man who had stopped bidding at $41,000.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t he?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s voice became dangerously calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew about the auction.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew we were bidding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot until that morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sent that investor?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stared at his father.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou tried to buy the house out from under us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was trying to protect you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked toward the phone in my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom whoever just came back for it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal stood.<\/p>\n
Her voice shook.<\/p>\n
\u201cRonald.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned.<\/p>\n
She looked older than she had an hour earlier.<\/p>\n
Smaller.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is Walter?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s eyes filled with something I had never seen in him before.<\/p>\n
Shame.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
Maybe both.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know his real name.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal walked toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have known that man since you were a boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe sat at my table.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe called me his sister.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI buried our mother beside him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s voice cracked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is he?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cMother, I don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then Nate\u2019s phone rang.<\/p>\n
Unknown number.<\/p>\n
Nobody moved.<\/p>\n
It rang again.<\/p>\n
Nate answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n
A man\u2019s voice spoke.<\/p>\n
Old.<\/p>\n
Rough.<\/p>\n
Calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cPut Opal on.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate looked at her.<\/p>\n
She held out her hand.<\/p>\n
He passed her the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Opal.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room was silent enough that we could hear the voice through the speaker.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello, Ope.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her knees nearly gave way.<\/p>\n
Only one person called her that.<\/p>\n
Walter.<\/p>\n
She gripped the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
The man chuckled softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know who I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, you do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy brother died in 1949.\u201d<\/p>\n
A long pause.<\/p>\n
Then the man said:<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
Tears slid down her cheeks.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
The voice changed.<\/p>\n
Not in tone.<\/p>\n
In weight.<\/p>\n
As if a door had finally opened.<\/p>\n
\u201cAsk Ronald what he found under the porch in 1987.\u201d<\/p>\n
Every head turned toward Ron.<\/p>\n
He looked sick.<\/p>\n
Opal stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did you find?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron said nothing.<\/p>\n
The voice on the phone laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere it is.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal whispered, \u201cWalter\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t call me that.\u201d<\/p>\n
She flinched.<\/p>\n
Then he said something none of us expected.<\/p>\n
\u201cOpal, bring Emily to the house.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt every eye turn toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
The man heard me.<\/p>\n
His answer came immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause this stopped being about the Miller family the day she married Nathan.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou will.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate stepped beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s not going anywhere alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re Harold all over again, Nathan.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t know me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know more about you than your father does.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron shouted toward the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cStay away from them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
Then the old man said:<\/p>\n
\u201cRonald.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s shoulders stiffened.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou should have burned the right wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
The call ended.<\/p>\n
No one moved.<\/p>\n
Opal slowly lowered the phone.<\/p>\n
I looked at Ron.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat wall?\u201d<\/p>\n
He wouldn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
Nate stepped toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat wall?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron stared at the floor.<\/p>\n
Then at me.<\/p>\n
And something in his expression made my stomach twist.<\/p>\n
Not because he was looking at me.<\/p>\n
Because he recognized something.<\/p>\n
Something he had been trying not to recognize.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
He backed away from me.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
He stared at my face.<\/p>\n
Then whispered, \u201cYour mother\u2019s maiden name.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I told him.<\/p>\n
Ron grabbed the edge of the table.<\/p>\n
Opal stared at him.<\/p>\n
Nate said, \u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked at me like he had seen a ghost.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat name was on the page.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat page?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe page from Harold\u2019s second ledger.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke.<\/p>\n
Ron continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne of the five identities.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could hear my own pulse.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother was born in 1963.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t your mother\u2019s name.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was your grandfather\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
My skin went cold.<\/p>\n
I had never met my maternal grandfather.<\/p>\n
My mother always said he had died before she was born.<\/p>\n
No photographs.<\/p>\n
No grave we ever visited.<\/p>\n
No family stories.<\/p>\n
Just a name.<\/p>\n
Ron\u2019s voice trembled.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat name was next to another name.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat name?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked toward Opal.<\/p>\n
She had gone perfectly still.<\/p>\n
Ron said:<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words seemed to split the room open.<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nate grabbed my hand.<\/p>\n
Ron kept talking.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe page had arrows between names. Old identities and new ones.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped backward.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe not.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re confused.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said this was forty years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe page was older.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal whispered, \u201cWhat was Emily\u2019s grandfather\u2019s first name?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron looked at me.<\/p>\n
I answered reluctantly.<\/p>\n
\u201cThomas.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal\u2019s face crumpled.<\/p>\n
She turned away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Nobody answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal covered her mouth.<\/p>\n
Ron whispered:<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the name Walter used when he disappeared in 1962.\u201d<\/p>\n
The world tilted.<\/p>\n
I thought of my mother.<\/p>\n
Her stories.<\/p>\n
Her father dying before she was born.<\/p>\n
The absence of photographs.<\/p>\n
The strange gaps I had never questioned.<\/p>\n
Nate squeezed my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re saying\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe man at your house may not just know Emily\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe may be Emily\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n
My phone vibrated.<\/p>\n
One final alert.<\/p>\n
The kitchen camera had come back online.<\/p>\n
I opened it.<\/p>\n
The house was empty.<\/p>\n
The basement door stood open.<\/p>\n
On the kitchen table sat a white envelope.<\/p>\n
Even through the camera, we could see the writing across the front.<\/p>\n
EMILY.<\/p>\n
Nate and I drove to the Miller house with Ron and Opal directly behind us.<\/p>\n
Nobody waited for police.<\/p>\n
Nobody even suggested it this time.<\/p>\n
The driveway was empty when we arrived.<\/p>\n
The old sedan was gone.<\/p>\n
So was Mr. Dobbs\u2019s pickup.<\/p>\n
Nate entered first.<\/p>\n
I followed.<\/p>\n
Ron and Opal came behind us.<\/p>\n
The envelope waited exactly where we had seen it.<\/p>\n
My name was written in black ink.<\/p>\n
Emily.<\/p>\n
No last name.<\/p>\n
Just Emily.<\/p>\n
Nate reached for it.<\/p>\n
I stopped him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked it up.<\/p>\n
Inside was a photograph.<\/p>\n
Nothing else.<\/p>\n
I turned it over.<\/p>\n
And stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
The photograph showed a young woman holding a baby.<\/p>\n
Behind her was the Miller house.<\/p>\n
The picture had been taken decades ago.<\/p>\n
The woman looked almost exactly like my mother.<\/p>\n
But it wasn\u2019t her.<\/p>\n
On the back were four handwritten words.<\/p>\n
Nate read them over my shoulder.<\/p>\n
His face changed.<\/p>\n
Opal whispered, \u201cOh, dear God.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ron stepped away.<\/p>\n
I stared at the sentence until the letters blurred.<\/p>\n
It said:<\/p>\n
EMILY, ASK WHO YOUR GRANDMOTHER REALLY WAS.<\/p>\n
Then something creaked beneath our feet.<\/p>\n
Not upstairs.<\/p>\n
Below us.<\/p>\n
From the basement.<\/p>\n
Nate turned toward the open basement door.<\/p>\n
Another sound followed.<\/p>\n
A heavy scrape.<\/p>\n
Then a click.<\/p>\n
A light switched on below.<\/p>\n
Someone was still in the house.<\/p>\n
And from the darkness beneath the kitchen, an old man\u2019s voice called up to us.<\/p>\n
\u201cOpal.\u201d<\/p>\n
She went rigid.<\/p>\n
He continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve waited seventy-seven years to meet the boy your father brought home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Opal\u2019s hand flew to her mouth.<\/p>\n
Then the voice said:<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd Emily has waited her whole life without knowing she was born into the same secret.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Her brother disappeared through the kitchen doorway. Nate was already reaching for his keys. I grabbed my coat. Ron moved in front of us. \u201cDon\u2019t go there.\u201d Nate stopped. \u201cMove.\u201d … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3333,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[23,21,22,1,5,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6528","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aita","category-daily-article","category-reddit-stories","category-story","category-story-daily","category-viral-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6528","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6528"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6528\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6529,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6528\/revisions\/6529"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3333"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6528"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6528"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nextstoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6528"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}