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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
And then there\u2019s our daughter, Chloe. She\u2019s fifteen, tall with chestnut hair like mine. Every morning, she puts on her school uniform properly and leaves through the front door with a smile. Her \u201cI\u2019m off!\u201d is cheerful, and I always took comfort in that. Watching her walk away to school, I never doubted she was doing well.<\/p>\n
The three of us only saw each other on weekends, and even then, just at Saturday morning breakfast. On Sundays, Mark would sleep, exhausted, until past noon. I\u2019d tackle the accumulated housework, and Chloe would hole up in her room. Even when we sat around the table, our conversations were surprisingly superficial.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s school?\u201d I\u2019d ask.<\/p>\n
Chloe would answer, \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n
When Mark asked, \u201cHow are your grades?\u201d Chloe would briefly reply, \u201cThey\u2019re okay.\u201d<\/p>\n
No one asked anything deeper. No one talked about anything deeper. I thought that was fine. Teenagers want distance from their parents, and we were respecting Chloe\u2019s privacy. I believed that working hard was how I protected my family. My own mother was a homemaker who lived dependent on my father\u2019s income. I know how much she struggled when Dad got sick and couldn\u2019t work anymore. That\u2019s why I became financially independent, and I want my daughter to become an independent woman, too. That had become my constant refrain.<\/p>\n
Work was going well. I\u2019d been assigned a major project and was leading a team to produce results. My evaluation at the company was high, and there was talk of a promotion. By the time I got home, I\u2019d be exhausted, but there was also a sense of fulfillment in it. I had this pride that I was earning for my family.<\/p>\n
But lately, something felt slightly off. Chloe\u2019s smile seemed more rigid than before. In the morning, when I\u2019d see her off with, \u201cHave a good day,\u201d her eyes looked a little vacant. But I told myself it was just the instability typical of adolescence, natural for a fifteen-year-old girl.<\/p>\n
I hardly ever went into her room. Under the pretense of respecting her privacy, maybe I was actually avoiding stepping into my daughter\u2019s inner world. Even when delivering laundry, I\u2019d just knock on the door and leave it at the entrance. I didn\u2019t try to know what her room looked like inside. What my daughter was thinking, I didn\u2019t try to know.<\/p>\n
Mark was the same. He had almost no time to see our daughter, just catching a glimpse on weekends, too exhausted to even think of consulting me about Chloe. The family lived in separate timelines. Living under the same roof, we were scattered. Still, I thought this was enough. Chloe went to school every morning. Her grades weren\u2019t bad. There didn\u2019t seem to be any problems, at least not to my eyes.<\/p>\n
Until that day when I received a complaint from a neighbor.<\/p>\n
The first complaint came a week ago. When I got home after eight, as usual, my neighbor Carol was standing in front of my door with her arms crossed. She lives alone, and we\u2019d exchange greetings occasionally. That was about it.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s noise coming from your place during the day,\u201d Carol said right off the bat. I was tired, and it took me a moment to understand what she meant.<\/p>\n
\u201cNoise?\u201d I asked, and she nodded. \u201cNoise from the second floor. I thought someone might be there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one should be there,\u201d I answered. \u201cMy daughter goes to school. My husband and I are at work. No one\u2019s home during the day. Maybe you\u2019re imagining it.\u201d Carol looked suspicious but muttered, \u201cPerhaps,\u201d and left.<\/p>\n
That night, I called my husband to discuss it. Mark was at the construction site, and I could hear the surrounding noise. \u201cThe neighbor said something strange\u2014that there\u2019s noise during the day. But no one should be there, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s probably tired,\u201d Mark replied without much interest. \u201cShe lives alone. Maybe she\u2019s lonely. If it were a burglar, something would have been stolen.\u201d<\/p>\n
That made sense. I stopped worrying about it and threw myself back into work the next day. The deadline for the major project was approaching. The client\u2019s demands were strict, and team members were exhausted. One of my subordinates made repeated mistakes, and I was swamped trying to cover for them. I worked until near the last train every day, and when I got home, I\u2019d shower and collapse into sleep. Home matters were completely put on the back burner.<\/p>\n
Three days ago, Carol was waiting at the door again. \u201cThere really is noise during the day,\u201d she said, her tone more certain than before. \u201cSomeone\u2019s there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA burglar?\u201d I asked. \u201cShould I call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Carol shook her head. \u201cBut you should be careful. I feel like something strange is happening.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt a little anxious, but I was busy with work, and that anxiety soon faded. There were meetings, presentation preparations, and negotiations with clients. I had no time to think about home. Around that time, I didn\u2019t notice that Chloe seemed a bit strange at breakfast. Or maybe I did notice but pretended not to. Chloe\u2019s hand holding her toast was trembling slightly, but I just checked emails on my smartphone and absently said, \u201cDo your best today.\u201d Chloe\u2019s response was always a small, \u201cYeah,\u201d a brief word, but I didn\u2019t pay attention to it. Everyone\u2019s sleepy in the morning.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d noticed the faint dark circles under Chloe\u2019s eyes, too. \u201cAre you staying up late?\u201d I\u2019d lightly caution, and Chloe would answer, \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMake sure you sleep,\u201d I\u2019d say, then leave the house. I didn\u2019t probe any deeper.<\/p>\n
And yesterday, there was a third complaint. When I got home, Carol was waiting in front of the door. This time, she was clearly angry. \u201cYour place is noisy during the day,\u201d she said, her voice loud, and I worried the neighbors might hear.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one should be there,\u201d I answered, but my confidence was wavering.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard screaming,\u201d Carol said, \u201cmultiple times. A woman\u2019s voice, like she was calling for help.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was speechless. Screaming? A woman\u2019s voice? That couldn\u2019t be.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you don\u2019t believe me, go check for yourself,\u201d Carol said flatly, then angrily returned to her own house.<\/p>\n
That night, I sat alone in the living room. Mark hadn\u2019t come home yet. I called his cell phone repeatedly, but he didn\u2019t answer, probably at the construction site. I turned it over in my head. If it were a burglar, something would have been stolen, but there was nothing unusual in the house. A ghost? That was ridiculous. But screaming? A woman\u2019s voice? Was someone breaking in? But why? Chloe was in her room; the door was closed, and I could hear music leaking out. Everything seemed normal. I thought about knocking to check on her but stopped. I felt disgusted with myself, like I was suspecting my daughter, but I couldn\u2019t ignore it either. If Carol came to tell me three times, something was really happening. I couldn\u2019t leave this alone.<\/p>\n
I decided tomorrow, I\u2019d check for myself.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I got ready as usual, put on my suit, did my makeup, and grabbed my bag. Chloe was also dressed in her uniform, as usual, eating breakfast.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m leaving,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave a good day,\u201d Chloe answered. The usual smile, but that smile seemed somehow forced. It was the first time I felt that way.<\/p>\n
I left the house in my car, but I didn\u2019t head to the office. Instead, I parked at a supermarket parking lot three blocks away. I looked at the clock: 7:15. I decided to wait fifteen minutes, then return home through the back door without being seen by anyone to find out the truth. I turned off the engine and stared at the clock while sitting in my seat. My heart was pounding. I didn\u2019t know what I would find, but I had to check\u2014for my daughter\u2019s sake, for my family\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n
The clock hands moved forward. It became 7:30. I got out of the car and started walking toward home. My hand was shaking as I unlocked the back door. I felt like I was sneaking into my own house. I quietly opened the door and went inside. The house was silent. Chloe should have already left for school; she always left at 7:30. No one should be there now. I quietly climbed the stairs, headed for the second-floor bedroom. When I opened the door, the room looked the same as always. The bed was neatly made, and morning light streamed in through the curtains.<\/p>\n
I stared at the bed. I would hide here. I thought it was ridiculous\u2014hiding under the bed in my own bedroom\u2014but I couldn\u2019t think of any other way. I got on my knees and slid under the bed. A dusty smell hit my nose. I felt a little guilty that the cleaning hadn\u2019t been thorough. The space was tighter than I expected, making it hard to move. I lay on my side, looking up at the underside of the bed. It was suffocating, cramped, dark.<\/p>\n
No one might come. Maybe Carol was mistaken. Then what was I doing? Missing work to wait under a bed for hours? How would I explain this to my boss? But I had no choice but to wait.<\/p>\n
8:00. Nothing happened. The house was quiet, and all I could hear was my own breathing. My back started to hurt.<\/p>\n
8:30. Still nothing. Maybe it was a mistake after all. But Carol had clearly said she heard screaming multiple times.<\/p>\n
9:00. My feet were going numb. Could I really stay here for hours? I thought about getting out, crawling out from under the bed, heading to the office, returning to my normal daily life.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when it happened. I heard the front door open.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
My heart leaped. Someone had come in. It was the sound of unlocking with a key. Someone with a spare key. Not a burglar. Footsteps moved through the hallway, then climbed the stairs. One step, then another. Slow footsteps, not heavy, light steps. I held my breath. I thought my heartbeat was so loud the other person might hear it. My hands were shaking. Who was it? The bedroom door opened.<\/p>\n
I saw feet. From under the bed, I could only see the person\u2019s feet. They were wearing sneakers\u2014white sneakers, a small size. A woman. The person stood in the room for a while. Then, the feet approached the bed. I heard the sound of someone sitting on the bed. The mattress sank, and the underside of the bed lowered slightly. The sense of confinement increased.<\/p>\n
Silence. Then I heard sobbing. A woman was crying\u2014small, stifled crying. I could feel her shoulders shaking through the bed. Who was it? The crying gradually got louder, as if she couldn\u2019t hold it in anymore.<\/p>\n
Then suddenly, a scream echoed through the room. \u201cStop it! Stop it!\u201d<\/p>\n
A woman\u2019s desperate scream, just like Carol had said. A voice calling for help. Desperate. My body froze with fear. What was happening?<\/p>\n
\u201cStop it! Please, stop it already!\u201d The screaming continued. Then it turned to crying, intense crying. The bed shook in small tremors. I couldn\u2019t move. Should I call out? Should I call the police? But my body wouldn\u2019t obey. My head went blank with fear and confusion.<\/p>\n
Eventually, the screaming stopped. The woman was breathing heavily, exhausted from crying. Then I heard a small voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
At that moment, the world stopped. Had I heard wrong? What did she just say? Mom. Was she calling me? No way. But that voice\u2026 I\u2019d heard it somewhere before. No, I heard it every day.<\/p>\n
Chloe. It was my daughter\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n
My body froze. Chloe? Why was she here? School? Why wasn\u2019t she at school? Why was she here crying? Questions swirled in my head, but I couldn\u2019t make a sound. I just lay under the bed, feeling my daughter\u2019s presence.<\/p>\n
Chloe sat on the bed for a while. I occasionally heard her sobbing. Eventually, Chloe stood up. Footsteps left the room. The sound of going down the stairs. I could finally move, but my body was shaking, and I couldn\u2019t crawl out from under the bed easily. When I finally got out, my knees were weak. It took time to stand up.<\/p>\n
What was happening? I left the room and quietly descended the stairs without making noise. I could see the living room. I peeked carefully, and there was Chloe. She was sitting on the sofa, hugging her knees, curled up small, still wearing her uniform when she should have gone to school.<\/p>\n
Should I call out to her? But what would I say?<\/p>\n
Chloe suddenly stood up. I hid behind the wall. Chloe stood in front of the living room mirror, staring at her own face intently, as if confirming who she was. Then suddenly, she shouted at the mirror, \u201cI won\u2019t lose!\u201d A strong voice, a voice full of determination. But the next moment, Chloe collapsed. She fell to her knees and started crying again.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t watch anymore. I entered the living room. \u201cChloe,\u201d I called her name.<\/p>\n
Chloe turned around. Her face was a mess with tears. And the moment she saw me, the blood drained from her face. \u201cMom?\u201d Chloe whispered. \u201cWhy are you here?\u201d Her voice was trembling.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about school? Why are you home?\u201d I asked the same thing. Chloe was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth and closed it, tried to say something, and swallowed her words. Tears streamed down her cheeks.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe neighbor complained,\u201d I said. \u201cThat there\u2019s screaming during the day. She came to tell me three times. So I came to check.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe turned her face away, her shoulders trembling slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cSit on the sofa,\u201d I said. Chloe slowly sat on the sofa. I sat next to her. There was a little distance between us. \u201cHow long have you not been going to school?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI go,\u201d Chloe answered in a small voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a lie,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019re here now. You should be in class.\u201d Chloe bit her lip. \u201cI go,\u201d she repeated. \u201cIn the morning, I go to school.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then?\u201d I prompted.<\/p>\n
After a long silence, Chloe finally spoke. \u201cI go to the nurse\u2019s office,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI come back,\u201d Chloe said in a whisper.<\/p>\n
I gasped. \u201cCome back? From school? Why?\u201d I asked, but Chloe didn\u2019t answer. She just hugged her knees and curled up small. I looked at my daughter, my daughter in her uniform, my daughter who goes to school with a smile every morning. But this daughter wasn\u2019t going to school. She was going through the nurse\u2019s office and coming back home.<\/p>\n
\u201cBullying?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Chloe\u2019s body stiffened. That reaction told me everything. \u201cBy whom?\u201d I asked. Chloe didn\u2019t answer. \u201cWho\u2019s bullying you?\u201d I repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t say,\u201d Chloe said quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy can\u2019t you say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause if I tell, it\u2019ll get worse,\u201d Chloe answered, her voice shaking. \u201cThey\u2019ll do worse things to me. So, I can\u2019t say.\u201d<\/p>\n
I tried to put my hand on my daughter\u2019s shoulder, but Chloe pulled away, a gesture that said she didn\u2019t want to be touched. I withdrew my hand. \u201cDid you talk to the school?\u201d I asked. Chloe shook her head. \u201cWhy? If you tell a teacher, they should be able to do something.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe looked up, her eyes red and swollen. \u201cBecause telling a teacher is useless,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause the person bullying me,\u201d Chloe paused, \u201c\u2026is Mrs. Thompson\u2019s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze. Mrs. Thompson. Chloe\u2019s homeroom teacher. \u201cYour homeroom teacher,\u201d I confirmed. Chloe nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s why it\u2019s useless to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt something inside me crumble with a sound. The homeroom teacher\u2019s daughter was doing the bullying. And the school\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me everything,\u201d I said, \u201cfrom the beginning.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe was silent for a while but eventually began to speak slowly. The bullying started three months ago. At first, it was trivial things: her textbook would be hidden, mean things would be said to her. But Chloe endured it. She thought it would die down eventually, but it didn\u2019t. It gradually escalated. Harassing letters were put in her locker. Thumbtacks were put in her shoes. When they passed in the hallway, mean things would be whispered to her.<\/p>\n
Chloe consulted with her homeroom teacher, Mrs. Thompson. But the teacher didn\u2019t believe her. \u201cMy daughter wouldn\u2019t do such a thing,\u201d she said. \u201cIt must be Chloe\u2019s misunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then the retaliation began. The ringleader of the bullying was Emma Thompson, the homeroom teacher\u2019s daughter. Emma threatened Chloe, saying, \u201cYou told on me,\u201d and she started writing mean things about Chloe on social media\u2014that Chloe was a liar, that Chloe was trying to frame the teacher\u2019s daughter. The classmates all sided with Emma. No one talked to Chloe anymore. Even when they passed in the hallway, no one would make eye contact with her. Chloe became isolated.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery day was painful,\u201d Chloe said. \u201cI was afraid to go to school, but I didn\u2019t want to worry you. Mom is busy with work. Dad is tired, too. So I thought I\u2019d handle it myself.\u201d Chloe continued, \u201cI thought I had to be strong. I had to endure it alone, but it was too much. So, every morning, I go to school just to be counted present. Then I go to the nurse\u2019s office and say I don\u2019t feel well. The nurse is kind and lets me rest. After a while, I sneak out through the back door. I come home and cry alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
By screaming, she was somehow keeping herself together. Chloe said if she didn\u2019t scream, she felt like she\u2019d fall apart.<\/p>\n
As I listened to my daughter\u2019s story, tears wouldn\u2019t stop flowing. My daughter had been suffering this much, and I hadn\u2019t noticed anything. Every morning, I\u2019d send her off with a smile, but behind that smile, my daughter was suffering this much.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Chloe looked at me. \u201cI couldn\u2019t tell you,\u201d she said. \u201cMom always seemed so busy, always talking about work. I thought you didn\u2019t have time to listen to my problems.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not\u2014\u201d I was at a loss for words.<\/p>\n
\u201cBesides,\u201d Chloe continued, \u201cMom always said, \u2018Be an independent woman. Handle things yourself.\u2019 So, I thought I should handle it myself. But I couldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I collapsed to my knees. I put my hands on the floor and cried. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I repeated. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry. I was wrong.\u201d I thought working hard was how I protected my family. But what was truly important was listening to the voice of the daughter in front of me, noticing my daughter\u2019s pain.<\/p>\n
Chloe was crying, too. We both cried. For a long time, we just cried. Eventually, I moved closer to Chloe and embraced her. This time, Chloe didn\u2019t refuse. Mother and daughter held each other and cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t leave you alone anymore,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll definitely protect you. Mom will handle this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut how?\u201d Chloe asked. \u201cThe teacher and the school aren\u2019t on my side. How?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Chloe. \u201cI\u2019ll handle it,\u201d I repeated. \u201cI promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
I immediately took out my cell phone and called my husband. Mark answered right away. \u201cSomething terrible is happening,\u201d I said. \u201cChloe is being bullied. Come home right away.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark\u2019s voice became tense. \u201cI understand,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll come home right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Next, I called the company. My boss answered. \u201cI\u2019m taking time off,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
My boss said in a surprised voice, \u201cBut the project\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daughter is more important,\u201d I said clearly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI see,\u201d my boss said. \u201cUnderstood. Take care of your family.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hung up and looked at Chloe. My daughter was staring at me. In her eyes, just a little bit, a light of hope had returned. \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I said. \u201cMom and Dad will protect you. You don\u2019t have to fight alone anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe nodded slightly. And for the first time, she showed a real smile.<\/p>\n
The next day, I went to the school. Mark also took time off work and came with me. At the meeting in the principal\u2019s office, the principal and homeroom teacher, Mrs. Thompson, were present.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you have evidence?\u201d Mrs. Thompson said in a cold voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy daughter\u2019s testimony,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n
Mrs. Thompson laughed through her nose. \u201cMy daughter denies it. Isn\u2019t it your daughter\u2019s misunderstanding?\u201d<\/p>\n
The principal was also hesitant. He suggested we observe the situation a bit more, that we should handle it carefully. I looked at both of them and said, \u201cThen I\u2019ll file a report with the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
The principal\u2019s expression changed. \u201cThat\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
And I continued, \u201cI\u2019ll also contact the local newspaper. The headline will read, \u2018School Covers Up Bullying by Teacher\u2019s Daughter.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
Mrs. Thompson stood up. \u201cIs that a threat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not a threat,\u201d I answered calmly. \u201cI\u2019m just making the facts public. And I\u2019ll also formally report to the board of education.\u201d<\/p>\n
The principal and Mrs. Thompson looked at each other. Mark nodded beside me. We were serious.<\/p>\n
After that, the school hastily began an investigation. When they interviewed other students, multiple testimonies about Emma\u2019s bullying came out. Social media posts were also submitted as evidence. Two weeks later, Emma transferred to another school. Mrs. Thompson was also transferred to another school. The school established a new anti-bullying team and began working on preventing recurrence.<\/p>\n
Chloe started counseling. She had time to talk with a specialist once a week. It didn\u2019t solve everything immediately, but little by little, her heart was healing. In her new class, Chloe made friends. At first, she was cautious, but she met kind kids. She wasn\u2019t completely back to normal yet, but Chloe\u2019s smile returned\u2014a real smile.<\/p>\n
I changed, too. I reduced my work and increased working from home. Every morning, I eat breakfast with Chloe. I stopped rushing out of the house. I made time to talk with my daughter. Every night, I made sure to listen to Chloe\u2019s stories\u2014what happened at school, about her friends, trivial things, stories I would have half-listened to before, I now listen to seriously. I realized there were things more important than work.<\/p>\n
Mark changed, too. He negotiated with his boss to reduce late-night shifts and became able to eat dinner with the family three times a week. He consciously made time with Chloe. On days off, we started going out as a family of three.<\/p>\n
One day, I ran into my neighbor, Carol. \u201cI\u2019m glad your daughter is doing better,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d I answered. \u201cIf you hadn\u2019t told me, I might never have noticed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Carol smiled. \u201cI thought I might be meddling, but I\u2019m glad I said something.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a lifesaver,\u201d I said from my heart.<\/p>\n
Three months passed. One Saturday afternoon, the three of us were in the living room. Chloe was talking about school, about her new friends, about a fun class. We were listening with smiles.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey,\u201d Chloe said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we all go on a picnic next weekend?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds nice,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll make sandwiches,\u201d Mark said.<\/p>\n
Chloe showed a truly happy smile. Seeing that smile, I thought, I believed that working hard was how I protected my family. But what was truly important was listening to the voices of the family in front of me, noticing each other\u2019s pain, and supporting each other. That\u2019s what a real family is.<\/p>\n
Outside the window, spring sunlight was pouring down. Chloe\u2019s laughter echoed through the living room. Mark was laughing, too. I was laughing, too. Finally, I felt like we\u2019d become a real family.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
And then there\u2019s our daughter, Chloe. She\u2019s fifteen, tall with chestnut hair like mine. Every morning, she puts on her school uniform properly and leaves through the front door with … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":778,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-777","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/777","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=777"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/777\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":779,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/777\/revisions\/779"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/778"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=777"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=777"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nexttaleus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=777"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}