<\/ins><\/ins><\/div>\n
\u201cMark knew the baby could be born with Down syndrome before you did.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt the blood drain to my feet. \u201cNo. That can\u2019t be.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is,\u201d she said, her voice cracking. \u201cAnd he didn\u2019t just know. He had tests ordered without your authorization.\u201d<\/p>\n
She handed me the paper. It was a private lab result. My full name. My age. Weeks of pregnancy. Date. A date prior to the appointment where the doctor took my hand and gave me the news.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never went to that lab,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/d5a37272-7565-4509-b931-19414fae4efd-1-1024x576.png\")
<\/p>\n
\n
Clara placed Matthew in the crib with enormous delicacy and sat back down across from me. \u201cI found messages with a doctor who works at the clinic where you were being seen. Someone used a sample of yours to run another test. Mark paid for everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room started spinning. I grabbed the edge of the table. \u201cHe stole my blood?\u201d Saying it out loud made me nauseous.<\/p>\n
Clara pressed her lips together. \u201cHe stole information. Yours. About your body. About your son.\u201d<\/p>\n
I covered my mouth so I wouldn\u2019t scream and wake Matthew. I remembered my first appointment. The kind nurse. The little vial of blood. The receptionist who told me some tests were repeated as a standard protocol. I trusted them. I signed papers without reading because I was alone, scared, and pregnant.<\/p>\n
Mark hadn\u2019t disappeared out of fear. He had been pulling strings from the shadows. \u201cWhat for?\u201d I asked. \u201cWhy would he do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara took out her phone and showed me screenshots. They were messages from Mark to someone saved as \u201cRoger Office.\u201d\u00a0\u201cIf it\u2019s born with a condition, this gets complicated.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cI need to prove I gave support, but without Clara seeing it.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cOpen an account with receipts. Make it look like I transferred money to her.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cIf Anna insists, we say she tried to extort me.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
I felt something snap behind my ribs. \u201cExtort?\u201d Clara nodded, crying out of sheer rage. \u201cHe had a story ready. That you knew he was married. That you threatened him. That he gave you money and you wanted more.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood up abruptly. My body was shaking. \u201cI asked him for diapers, Clara. Diapers. I sent him photos of prescriptions. I told him Matthew needed therapy.\u201d \u201cI know.\u201d \u201cI sold my laptop to pay for an appointment.\u201d \u201cI know, Anna.\u201d \u201cMy electricity was cut off twice.\u201d \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara stood up, too. She didn\u2019t get too close. As if she understood that my pain needed space so it wouldn\u2019t bite. \u201cThat\u2019s why I came,\u201d she said. \u201cBecause Mark wasn\u2019t running away. He was building a trap.\u201d<\/p>\n
I slumped into the chair. Matthew made a small sound in his crib. He moved his little hands, opened his mouth, and went back to sleep. So peaceful. So innocent. So oblivious to the filth his father had built around his birth.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s more,\u201d Clara said. I let out a dry laugh. \u201cOf course there\u2019s more. With Mark, there\u2019s always a basement beneath the basement.\u201d<\/p>\n
She pulled out a final sheet. It was a family health insurance policy. Clara\u2019s name. Her two children. Mark\u2019s name. And a new, incomplete application, where my son appeared. Not by name. Just as \u201cunrecognized minor.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this?\u201d \u201cMark wanted to add Matthew to the insurance without legally recognizing him.\u201d \u201cWhy would he do that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara swallowed hard. \u201cBecause his company has a trust fund for children with disabilities. Medical support, therapies, deductions, tax benefits. Mark wanted to claim it through an account he controlled.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t understand at first. Then I did. And I almost threw up. \u201cHe wanted to use my son.\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cWithout seeing him. Without holding him. Without giving him his last name.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara closed her eyes. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I got up and ran to the bathroom. I threw up bile. Clara held my hair back. And that scene, absurd and terrible, changed everything. Mark\u2019s wife was kneeling next to me, taking care of me, while the man who had lied to both of us tried to profit off my baby.<\/p>\n
When I could breathe again, I washed my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes. Hair tied up messily. Milk-stained shirt. But there was something different in my eyes. It wasn\u2019t just sadness anymore. It was war.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do we do?\u201d I asked. Clara wiped her tears with her sleeve. \u201cWe sink him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n
Two hours later, Andrew, her cousin who was a lawyer, arrived. He didn\u2019t look like the typical attorney in an expensive suit. He showed up with a backpack, sneakers, a Starbucks coffee, and a face that said he had zero patience for cowardly men. He sat at my table, reviewed every page, and began sorting evidence. \u201cThis is family court. This is criminal. This is employment. This is a privacy violation. And this,\u201d he said, holding up the test I hadn\u2019t authorized, \u201cis a bomb.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was holding Matthew, who had just woken up hungry. While I gave him a bottle, I listened to words that sounded huge to me. Paternity. Child support. Moral damages. Forgery. Misuse of medical information. Protective orders.<\/p>\n
Andrew spoke to me carefully. \u201cAnna, Mark is going to try to flip the story on you. He\u2019s going to say you knew everything. That you wanted money. That Clara is hysterical. That the child might not be his.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at my son. Matthew was sucking the bottle with effort, taking long pauses, just like the therapist had taught me. \u201cLet him say it,\u201d I replied. \u201cI\u2019m not afraid of him anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara looked at me. \u201cHe\u2019s going to call you.\u201d<\/p>\n
As if she had summoned it, my phone vibrated. Mark. The name appeared on the screen like a cockroach on the table. Andrew raised a hand. \u201cSpeakerphone. Don\u2019t yell. Let him talk.\u201d<\/p>\n
I answered. \u201cAnna, what did you tell Clara?\u201d His voice held no guilt. It held anger. As if I had been the one who cheated, lied, and disappeared. \u201cI told her the truth.\u201d \u201cWhat truth? That you slept with a married man?\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara clenched her jaw. Andrew started recording. I took a deep breath. \u201cYou told me you lived alone.\u201d \u201cOh, please. You\u2019re not a little girl.\u201d<\/p>\n
It hurt, but it didn\u2019t break me. \u201cYour son needs therapy, Mark.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t even know if he\u2019s my son.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara stood up. \u201cRepeat that.\u201d There was silence. Then Mark spoke in a lower voice. \u201cClara\u2026\u201d \u201cRepeat that you don\u2019t know if he\u2019s your son,\u201d she demanded. \u201cBut say it after explaining why you paid for genetic tests, private investigators, and a fake account in Anna\u2019s name.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark let out a curse. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand anything.\u201d \u201cI understand perfectly,\u201d Clara responded. \u201cYou abandoned Anna, you lied to me, and you tried to collect benefits for a child you haven\u2019t even held.\u201d \u201cClara, honey, you\u2019re upset.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed. A dry, dangerous laugh. \u201cI am no longer your honey. I am your witness.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark hung up. The silence that followed was strange. Heavy. But also clean. Like when the power goes out and you finally hear how much noise everything was making. Andrew saved the audio. \u201cThank you, Mark,\u201d he said. \u201cAlways so helpful.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n
That night, Clara didn\u2019t want to leave. She told me she couldn\u2019t go back to her house; everything smelled like him. I offered her the sofa. She accepted without trying to act tough.<\/p>\n
At midnight, I heard her crying in the kitchen. I went out with Matthew in my arms because he wasn\u2019t sleeping either. Clara was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to wake you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat next to her. \u201cHe broke you first.\u201d Clara looked at Matthew. \u201cHe broke us differently.\u201d The baby reached a little hand toward her. Clara let him grab her finger. And then she cried harder.<\/p>\n
\u201cI lost a baby, Anna. I lost it in a bathroom, with blood running down my legs and Mark knocking on the door because he had a meeting. He told me to calm down. That life goes on.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt a lump in my throat. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d \u201cWhen I saw Matthew, I thought something horrible.\u201d I didn\u2019t interrupt her. \u201cI thought: why did this baby make it and mine didn\u2019t? Then I felt ashamed. Then I held him, and I understood that it wasn\u2019t against him. It was against Mark. Against everything he took from us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Matthew squeezed her finger tighter. Clara smiled through her tears. \u201cLook at him. He doesn\u2019t even have teeth and he\u2019s already scolding me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed. It was a small, broken laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. The first one in weeks.<\/p>\n
\n
The following days were a whirlwind. Clara legally kicked Mark out of her house. Andrew filed the paternity and child support lawsuit. He also requested a restraining order so Mark couldn\u2019t come near my apartment without authorization. I handed over screenshots, prescriptions, bills, photos, unanswered messages. Every piece of paper hurt. But every piece of paper also built a wall around Matthew.<\/p>\n
Mark tried everything. First, he sent flowers to Clara. Then to me. Then came the messages of regret.\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m sorry, I got scared.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cWe can fix this without lawyers.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cThink about the boy.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
When that didn\u2019t work, he bared his teeth.\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m going to take Matthew from you.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cI have better lawyers.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0\u201cNo one will believe a mistress.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
I sent it all to Andrew. He replied:\u00a0\u201cLet him keep writing. He\u2019s doing our job for us.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
The DNA test was ordered quickly. The day of the lab appointment, Mark arrived wearing dark sunglasses and an expensive shirt. He smelled of the same cologne he\u2019d used to make me fall in love with him. It made me sick. I had Matthew in a blue carrier, pressed tight against my chest. Clara arrived with me. That rattled him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d he asked her. \u201cI\u2019m accompanying your son,\u201d she said. Mark looked around nervously. \u201cDon\u2019t make a scene.\u201d Clara stepped a little closer. \u201cYou started the scene. We just bought front-row tickets.\u201d<\/p>\n
When the nurse took Matthew\u2019s sample, he cried. A small, offended cry. I hugged him and sang to him softly. Mark stood there, uncomfortable, as if his son\u2019s crying was just an annoying bureaucratic procedure.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when the last piece of it died for me. Because until that day, in some foolish corner of my heart, I had hoped that seeing him would make Mark feel something. Love. Guilt. Tenderness. Something. But Mark only asked: \u201cHow long does this take?\u201d<\/p>\n
The result came back ten days later. 99.99%. Matthew was his.<\/p>\n
Mark didn\u2019t ask to see him. He didn\u2019t ask about his therapies. He didn\u2019t ask if he slept well, if he was latching better, if he could hold his head up yet, if he smiled. He only said to Andrew: \u201cHow much is this going to cost me a month?\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara closed her eyes. I think that sentence finally finalized the divorce inside her.<\/p>\n
The judge ordered temporary child support, medical expenses, insurance coverage, and early intervention therapies. It wasn\u2019t wealth. It wasn\u2019t complete justice. But it was formula without having to count pennies. It was being able to take Matthew to physical therapy without choosing between paying for the appointment or paying rent. It was buying his vitamins without crying at the pharmacy counter.<\/p>\n
The investigation into the fake account moved slower. The doctor who leaked my samples was suspended. The private investigator admitted Mark had hired him to follow me. Mark\u2019s company opened an internal review when Clara handed over documents regarding the trust fund he had tried to manipulate.<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s where his real downfall began. Because losing love didn\u2019t hurt Mark. Losing his reputation did.<\/p>\n
\n
One afternoon, his mother called me. I don\u2019t know how she got my new number. I answered by mistake. \u201cYou\u2019re Anna,\u201d she said, with a voice full of church-lady venom. \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cYou\u2019ve destroyed enough. My son made a mistake, but you had no right to drag Clara into this or ruin his career.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Matthew sleeping on his playmat, a red rattle next to his hand. \u201cYour son abandoned a baby.\u201d \u201cThat child is going to suffer a lot. It wasn\u2019t necessary to bring him into the world like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt my body heat up with rage. \u201cMy son isn\u2019t a tragedy, ma\u2019am. The tragedy is having a coward for a father and a cruel grandmother.\u201d I hung up. I blocked the number.<\/p>\n
I cried afterward. Not because I cared about her. Because it still hurt that people looked at Matthew as if he had to apologize for existing.<\/p>\n
That night Clara showed up with food. Takeout, rice, diapers, and a printed list of therapy centers. \u201cI found one near\u00a0Queens<\/b>,\u201d she said. \u201cThere\u2019s also counseling through city services and family support groups. You don\u2019t have to learn everything on your own.\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t either,\u201d I asked. She went still. \u201cWhat?\u201d \u201cYou don\u2019t have to divorce alone, either.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara looked down. \u201cMy kids are angry.\u201d \u201cThey have a right to be.\u201d \u201cSophia wants to meet Matthew.\u201d \u201cAnd Jacob?\u201d \u201cJacob says he doesn\u2019t want anything to do with the \u2018problem baby\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
It hurt, but I understood. We adults had broken the table. The children were left standing among the shattered plates. \u201cWhenever he wants,\u201d I said. \u201cWithout forcing him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophia met Matthew two weeks later. She arrived wearing a pink headband, a unicorn backpack, and carrying a stuffed dinosaur. She walked up to the crib and looked at him seriously. \u201cIs he my brother?\u201d Clara took a deep breath. \u201cYes.\u201d Sophia scrunched her nose. \u201cHe\u2019s very little.\u201d \u201cHe\u2019s a baby,\u201d I said. \u201cMy dad is very stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara nearly choked. I couldn\u2019t help but laugh. \u201cYes, Sophia. Very.\u201d The little girl left the dinosaur next to Matthew. He moved a little hand and accidentally hit it. Sophia smiled. \u201cI like him.\u201d<\/p>\n
It took Jacob months. And that was okay. Sometimes kids need truth more than speeches. Clara never forced him. \u201cForced love looks too much like a lie,\u201d she told me.<\/p>\n
Over time, Clara and I stopped explaining ourselves. People would ask, \u201cAre you sisters?\u201d She would say, \u201cWorse. We\u2019re survivors.\u201d And we would laugh. A tired laugh, but ours.<\/p>\n
Mark tried to get back with Clara. He brought flowers. He hired a mariachi band. He brought his mother. Clara closed the door on all three of them.<\/p>\n
Then he tried with me. A message:\u00a0\u201cI want to get to know my son. We can be a family in a different way.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0Before, that sentence would have made me tremble. Now it just made me sad. I replied, copying Andrew:\u00a0\u201cYou can see him when you comply with the supervised visitation schedule, pay your arrears, and take the parenting course ordered by the judge.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer. He didn\u2019t take the course. He paid late. Part of his wages were garnished. He learned punctuality from that.<\/p>\n
\n
Matthew turned one on a rainy Saturday. I baked a small vanilla cake. Lucy brought yellow balloons. Clara arrived with Sophia and a giant candle. Jacob didn\u2019t want to come in, but he sent an unsigned card. It said:\u00a0\u201cBe happy.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0I kept it in Matthew\u2019s memory box.<\/p>\n
When we sang Happy Birthday, my son got scared and started crying. Sophia said: \u201cIt\u2019s because you sing horribly.\u201d We all laughed.<\/p>\n
Clara held Matthew for the photo. At first, she didn\u2019t want to. \u201cI don\u2019t want to take your place,\u201d she said. I adjusted the baby in her arms. \u201cYou\u2019re not taking it. You\u2019re helping me hold him up.\u201d Clara cried. Matthew pulled her necklace and almost yanked it off. The photo came out blurry. Perfect.<\/p>\n
A month later, Clara finalized her divorce. I accompanied her to the courthouse with Matthew in his stroller. I didn\u2019t go into the hearing. I waited for her outside with two coffees. When she came out, she was pale but standing tall. \u201cDone?\u201d I asked. \u201cDone.\u201d \u201cDoes it hurt?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cA lot?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at Matthew, who was sleeping with his mouth open. \u201cBut it hurts less than staying where you are dying.\u201d<\/p>\n
We sat on a bench. The city passed by in front of us as if nothing had happened. Vendors, taxis, people in a hurry, lawyers carrying briefcases. Clara pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse. \u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d I tensed up. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me that again.\u201d She smiled sadly. \u201cThis is a good thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a copy of the divorce decree and a separate agreement. Clara had requested that a portion of the settlement Mark owed her be placed in a trust fund for his three recognized children. Sophia. Jacob. Matthew.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I said immediately. \u201cClara, I can\u2019t accept that.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s not for you.\u201d \u201cBut it comes from your marriage.\u201d \u201cIt comes from what Mark broke. And Matthew is living in that rubble, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was speechless. \u201cMy kids have what\u2019s theirs,\u201d she said. \u201cHe needs to have something protected, too, in case Mark decides to disappear again.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hugged her. This time without guilt. Without apologizing for breathing. We hugged like two women who had been placed on opposite sides of a war they didn\u2019t invent. And who decided to redraw the map.<\/p>\n
\n
Matthew grew slowly. At his own pace. He took longer to sit up. He took longer to crawl. Every milestone was a party. The day he held his head up for more than a minute, Clara sent a flood of stickers as if the US had won the World Cup. The day he said \u201cma,\u201d I cried so much Lucy thought something bad had happened. Clara received the video and replied:\u00a0\u201cI demand recognition as Official Aunt.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0And that\u2019s how it stayed. Aunt Clara. Not because blood dictated it. But because she showed up with diapers, documents, truth, and open arms.<\/p>\n
Mark had his first supervised visit when Matthew was almost two. He arrived late. With a giant teddy bear. The supervisor noted it. Matthew looked at him without recognizing him. Mark tried to pick him up quickly. Matthew cried. \u201cSlow down,\u201d the supervisor said. \u201cA bond isn\u2019t bought with stuffed animals.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark was offended. \u201cI am his father.\u201d \u201cThen start by arriving on time,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
For twenty minutes, Mark talked more about himself than the child. He asked if Matthew \u201cwould ever be normal.\u201d I ended the visit. \u201cMy son is already normal,\u201d I told him. \u201cWhat isn\u2019t normal is that you only value what is convenient for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark didn\u2019t request another visit for months. It hurt for Matthew\u2019s sake. But I also felt relief. Because an absent father leaves holes. But a half-present father can leave wounds.<\/p>\n
His second birthday was different. Jacob came inside. He showed up in a black hoodie looking like he didn\u2019t want to be there. He walked up to Matthew and said, \u201cWhat\u2019s up.\u201d Matthew threw a cookie at him. Jacob laughed. That\u2019s how it all started.<\/p>\n
That afternoon, while the kids played in the living room, Clara and I went up to the roof. Down below, the city hummed. Motorcycles, dogs, sirens, crowded life. Clara drank sparkling water. I drank reheated coffee. \u201cDo you regret writing to me?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
I looked out the window. Matthew was on the floor, covered in cake, laughing with Sophia. \u201cI regret believing Mark. I regret feeling guilty for not spotting a lie. I regret a lot of things. But I don\u2019t regret writing to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Clara nodded. \u201cI thought I was coming to confront the woman who took something from me.\u201d \u201cI thought you were coming to destroy me.\u201d She smiled, her eyes shining. \u201cAnd we ended up changing diapers together.\u201d<\/p>\n
We laughed. Down below, Matthew let out a belly laugh. A clear, luminous laugh, like a little bell. We leaned over to look. Sophia was making faces at him. Jacob was pretending he wasn\u2019t having fun. Lucy was recording everything. Andrew was arguing with a balloon that wouldn\u2019t inflate.<\/p>\n
It was all strange. It was all imperfect. It was all ours.<\/p>\n
Mark wasn\u2019t there. Not because we banned him forever. But because he never learned how to show up without needing to be the center of attention. And his absence, finally, no longer filled the room. Matthew did. With his therapies. With his sticky little hands. With his extra chromosome. With his unique way of turning any small achievement into a massive celebration.<\/p>\n
\n
That night, when everyone left, I put my son to bed. I dressed him in his yellow pajamas. The same ones I had bought at the flea market before I knew how much my life was going to change. They were getting tight on him. Matthew grabbed my finger just like the day he was born.<\/p>\n
I sat next to the crib and thought about the Anna who wrote to Clara while trembling, convinced that the woman was coming to tear away the little she had left. But Clara didn\u2019t arrive with hatred. She arrived with the truth. A horrible truth. Mark didn\u2019t disappear because he was scared. He disappeared because he was calculating how to abandon us without paying the price. What he didn\u2019t calculate was that the two women he tried to pit against each other would look into each other\u2019s eyes and stop playing the roles he wrote for them.<\/p>\n
I kissed Matthew\u2019s forehead. \u201cThank you, my love,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
Because my son was born with Down syndrome. Yes. But he wasn\u2019t born to elicit pity. He was born to rip off masks. To unite two broken women. To teach me that a truth can hurt like childbirth and still save your life.<\/p>\n
I turned off the light. My phone vibrated. It was Clara.\u00a0\u201cTherapy tomorrow at ten?\u201d<\/i>\u00a0I smiled.\u00a0\u201cYes. I\u2019ll bring the coffee.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
Matthew let out a sleepy sigh. I closed my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I wasn\u2019t afraid the world was going to collapse on me. It had already collapsed. And among the rubble, my son had learned to laugh.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cWhat worse?\u201d I asked. Clara didn\u2019t answer right away. She looked at Matthew sleeping in her arms, as if she were asking him for permission to break me a little … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4848,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4980","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-reddit-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4980","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4980"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4980\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4981,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4980\/revisions\/4981"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4848"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4980"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4980"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4980"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}