{"id":11152,"date":"2026-03-07T13:43:55","date_gmt":"2026-03-07T13:43:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=11152"},"modified":"2026-03-07T13:43:55","modified_gmt":"2026-03-07T13:43:55","slug":"my-husband-snapped-at-me-my-bedtime-is-11-pm-if-the-baby-wakes-up-thats-your-problem-what-his-mother-did-next-made-me-gasp","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=11152","title":{"rendered":"My Husband Snapped at Me, ‘My Bedtime Is 11 PM & If the Baby Wakes Up, That’s Your Problem’\u2014What His Mother Did Next Made Me Gasp"},"content":{"rendered":"
My husband begged for a baby, then refused to help when our son was born. One morning, his mom overheard our argument and said something that changed everything.<\/span><\/div>\n
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My name’s Viki, and I’m thirty-five. I teach English online, mostly to international students, and I’ve been doing it long enough to build a decent client list. My husband, Kevin, and I have been together for just over four years.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A silhouette photo of a man kissing a woman’s forehead | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He’s charming when he wants to be, and he sure knows how to sell a dream. The biggest one? That he’d be the most loving, present dad in the world.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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We had our son, Liam, in January. I gave birth during one of the coldest winters in recent memory. I still remember the hospital window frosting over while I cradled this tiny bundle against my chest, thinking,\u00a0We finally did it. We’re a family now.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a mother holding her newborn baby | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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But things started to shift. Quietly at first.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I had to go back to work just two weeks after giving birth. Bills don’t wait. Kevin works part-time, and we moved in with his mom, Donna, to save on rent.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Most of my students are from Asia and South America, so I work odd hours. Usually afternoons, sometimes late at night. Kevin agreed to watch the baby during my lessons, especially the late ones. He only asked that I never book anything past midnight. I thought that was fair.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a woman working on her laptop | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin got back on a schedule where he wants to go to bed at 11 p.m. every night. We try to, but with a baby, sometimes… it just does not happen. Liam sometimes will stay asleep when I put him to bed, and sometimes he wakes up screaming.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But last night… something changed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It was 10:45 p.m., and I was sitting on the edge of our bed, nursing our son.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A grayscale photo of a woman holding her baby | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin walked out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, hair dripping. He rubbed his eyes and muttered, “What time’s your lesson?”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Eleven. Same student from Korea. I’ll try to get him down before then.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He snorted and reached for his pajama bottoms.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“What’s your plan if Liam wakes up?” he asked, not looking at me. “My bedtime is eleven. You know that.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I blinked. “Well, if he does, maybe you can rock him or put him on the mat for a bit?”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin stood still, arms crossed, eyes narrowing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“My bedtime is 11 p.m., and if the baby wakes up, that’s your problem to solve.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A man wearing a sleep mask while lying in bed | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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There was no humor in his voice. Just cold finality.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I opened my mouth, then closed it. Liam shifted in my arms, letting out a tiny sigh. My throat felt tight. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just said, “Okay,” and tried to breathe through the lump building in my chest.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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By 10:58 p.m., Liam was finally asleep. I placed him gently in his cot, prayed for mercy, and slipped into the small home office to start my lesson. I hadn’t even finished the greeting when I heard soft cries through the wall.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A grayscale photo of a crying baby | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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I froze, then continued speaking, forcing a smile while every part of me tensed. I prayed Kevin would pick him up. Just this once.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Ten minutes in, the cries got louder.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I excused myself and rushed out.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin was pacing with the baby in his arms, his jaw clenched. As soon as he saw me, he practically thrust Liam into my chest.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“He won’t settle. And I told you \u2014 I’m supposed to be in bed.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I didn’t say anything. I just nursed him again, tears threatening to spill. By the time I settled the baby back down, it was almost midnight.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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An old analog wall clock showing 11:58 p.m. | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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This morning, the air between us was icy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin came out of the bathroom, dressed for work, barely glancing at me. I reached out instinctively for our usual goodbye hug.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He pulled back. His expression was flat.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Are you still upset?” I asked softly.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Yes. You crossed my boundary,” he said. “We agreed. Eleven is my bedtime. You need to manage your work around that.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I stood there, stunned. “He’s our baby,” I whispered. “You begged for him.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a couple hugging after a positive pregnancy test | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin shook his head. “You should’ve thought about that before accepting a lesson that late.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Just then, we heard soft footsteps from the hallway. Donna, still in her robe, stepped into the room. Her hair was pinned loosely, her face unreadable.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Kevin,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Can I say something before you go?”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin paused, one hand already on the doorknob.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He hesitated, then gave a small nod.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Donna stood there, still in her robe, the morning light catching the soft lines on her face. What she said next made me gasp.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A senior woman looks concerned and upset | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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“I heard everything just now,” she began, her words measured. “And I need you to understand something. What you told your wife… it broke my heart.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin shifted his stance but said nothing. He looked like a schoolboy caught in a lie. “I don’t understand, Mom\u2026”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Kevin, your words this morning \u2014 ‘It’s your problem to solve’ \u2014 took me straight back to a place I hoped I’d never revisit,” Donna continued. “Because I’ve been in her shoes.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A back-view of a woman leaning on a wooden window | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin raised his head slightly, frowning.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“When you were just a baby, your father used to say the same things to me. ‘It’s your job. You figure it out,'” she said, voice trembling now. “He never changed a single diaper. Never got up when you cried. Never asked how I was doing. I was exhausted, and he acted like I was the problem for needing anything.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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An angry man | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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She walked further into the room, slowly, as though she was wading through memories.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“One night,” she said, almost to herself, “I asked him to stay up a little longer while I bathed you. Just thirty minutes more. He looked at me and said, ‘You wanted this baby, not me.’ That night, I realized I had married the wrong man.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A grayscale close-up shot of a sad woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin’s jaw clenched. His gaze dropped to the floor.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“I left eventually,” she said. “I couldn’t keep living like that. I raised you the best I could, Kevin. I tried to show you love. To be strong, for both of us. But I see now \u2014 I might not have shown you what a real partnership looks like.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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She turned to look at me, her eyes full of something I hadn’t expected \u2014 sorrow, maybe. Regret.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A senior woman looking sad | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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“Please,” she said, her voice gentler now, “don’t make your wife feel like I did. Alone. Invisible. Abandoned.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin was completely still. For a moment, it was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“You begged for this family,” Donna continued. “You asked for this child. And now that he’s here, your wife shouldn’t have to beg for your help. Be the man I know you can be, not the man I had to walk away from.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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His shoulders dropped, like the weight of everything he’d been avoiding had finally landed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A remorseful man | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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“I\u2026” he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It was barely a whisper. But then he looked at me, really looked at me, like he was seeing me for the first time in weeks.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Viki, I’m so sorry.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My throat was tight, and my eyes were burning.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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An upset woman | Source: Midjourney<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Donna stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. She whispered something I couldn\u2019t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made him close his eyes and nod.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin didn’t go to work that day.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He called in and said he needed to take care of something at home. No explanation. Just that.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Around noon, I found him quietly cleaning up the kitchen. Liam had just gone down for a nap.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A baby sleeping | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He looked up as I stepped in.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“I know I’ve been awful,” he said. “I don’t even know when I became this… this version of myself. I thought I was helping, but really, I was just doing the bare minimum.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, unsure of what to say.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“I want to do better,” he said, stepping closer. “Please help me figure it out.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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That night, he bathed the baby while I took a shower, an actual long, hot shower where I didn’t rush, didn’t listen for crying, didn’t worry.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a woman taking a bath | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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When I came out, Liam was bundled up and sleeping, and Kevin was folding tiny clothes on the couch.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“Do you need help with anything else?” he asked.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It didn’t feel real.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Over the next few days, I waited for it to fade \u2014 for the “good” Kevin to vanish again. But he didn’t.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He started asking questions. Like, “When does he usually nap?” or “How long should I warm the milk?” Simple things. But they mattered.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a baby’s feeder and a spoonful of formula milk powder | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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He stopped rolling his eyes when our son cried in the middle of the night. He’d just get up, often before I even fully woke up.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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One night, at 2 a.m., I found him swaying in the hallway, Liam pressed against his chest.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“He fell back asleep, but I didn’t want to put him down yet,” he whispered. “He’s warm like a little toaster.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I smiled, too tired to speak, but in that moment, I felt something soften inside me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a father kissing his baby’s hand | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Donna still helped here and there, especially when we were both running on fumes. But the weight I’d been carrying didn’t feel crushing anymore. It felt… shared.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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One evening, Kevin and I sat on the balcony after Liam fell asleep. The air was cool, the sky almost navy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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“You know,” he said, “I think part of me was scared. Like, if I admitted it was hard, I’d be weak.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a man sitting on the bed’s corner | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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“It’s not weak,” I said. “It’s honest.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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He nodded. “I used to think being a dad meant providing, being the strong one. But now I know it’s… it’s being there. Being\u00a0with<\/i>\u00a0you. With him. Even when it’s messy.”<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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I reached for his hand. For the first time in months, it felt easy to hold.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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A close-up shot of a couple holding hands | Source: Pexels<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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We weren’t perfect. There were still hard nights. Times he’d forget something and I’d get snippy. But now, he\u00a0noticed.<\/i>\u00a0He showed up.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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And most importantly, I didn’t feel like I was doing it alone anymore.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Kevin begged for this family. And now, finally, he was fighting to keep it strong.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My husband begged for a baby, then refused to help when our son was born. One morning, his mom overheard our argument and said something that changed everything. My name’s … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":11153,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,23,22,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11152","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-heathy","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11152","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11152"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11152\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11154,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11152\/revisions\/11154"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/11153"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11152"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11152"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11152"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}