{"id":22640,"date":"2026-06-03T15:25:54","date_gmt":"2026-06-03T08:25:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=22640"},"modified":"2026-06-03T15:25:54","modified_gmt":"2026-06-03T08:25:54","slug":"her-mother-in-law-demanded-gratitude-after-slapping-her-then-her-husband-made-a-choice-that-changed-everything","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=22640","title":{"rendered":"Her mother-in-law demanded gratitude after slapping her. Then her husband made a choice that changed everything."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

The slap landed so hard the silver fork beside my plate jumped and rang against the china.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/header>\n

\n

For three seconds, nobody breathed.<\/p>\n

\n

Then my mother-in-law smiled at me with her lipstick still perfect and said, \u201cNow tell everyone I\u2019m a good mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

I kept my hand against my cheek.<\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I did not cry.<\/p>\n

I did not scream.<\/p>\n

\n

I looked at Ethan.<\/p>\n

My husband had gone very still.<\/p>\n

\n

Not angry.<\/p>\n

Not shocked.<\/p>\n

Still in a way that made my stomach drop, because I knew that look did not belong to a man deciding whether something was wrong.<\/p>\n

It belonged to a man who had finally stopped pretending he could fix it quietly.<\/p>\n

Margaret Whitmore sat at the head of the table in a cream silk blouse, pearls shining at her throat, her silver hair sprayed into place, her chin lifted as if she had just corrected a child instead of struck a grown woman.<\/p>\n

The Whitmore dining room smelled like lemon polish, roasted lamb, and old money.<\/p>\n

There were eighteen people around that table.<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s brother Carter looked down into his wineglass.<\/p>\n

His wife, Brooke, stared at her salad.<\/p>\n

Aunt Linda covered her mouth.<\/p>\n

My father-in-law, Richard, kept both hands folded on the table and lowered his eyes like silence was a family tradition.<\/p>\n

Margaret leaned back and waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

My cheek burned.<\/p>\n

My wedding ring felt cold.<\/p>\n

The fork beside my plate still trembled from the impact, and nobody reached for it.<\/p>\n

That was the moment I understood something that had taken me five years to admit.<\/p>\n

A family can become a room full of witnesses who call themselves neutral because they are too comfortable to be brave.<\/p>\n

Ethan pushed his chair back.<\/p>\n

The sound of the chair legs scraping across marble cut through the room like a blade.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re moving out,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Margaret blinked.<\/p>\n

He turned to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cTonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he looked back at his mother.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you can live with her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Margaret laughed once.<\/p>\n

It was the kind of laugh people use when fear arrives before pride has time to make a plan.<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s hand stayed on the back of my chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want someone to praise you after you hit my wife?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

No one moved.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want a woman in this house who obeys you, thanks you, covers for you, and pretends you\u2019re not cruel?\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice was quiet.<\/p>\n

That made the words feel heavier.<\/p>\n

He pointed to the framed portrait on the wall behind Margaret.<\/p>\n

It was the kind of portrait families like the Whitmores loved, glossy and expensive, all polished smiles and matching neutral colors.<\/p>\n

Margaret sat in the center of that photo.<\/p>\n

Richard stood beside her.<\/p>\n

Carter and Brooke stood on one side.<\/p>\n

Ethan and I stood on the other like we had been placed there to balance the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen live with Brooke,\u201d Ethan said.<\/p>\n

Brooke\u2019s fork slipped from her fingers and struck the plate.<\/p>\n

The sound was small, but everyone heard it.<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s head snapped toward her.<\/p>\n

Brooke went pale.<\/p>\n

Not offended.<\/p>\n

Not surprised.<\/p>\n

Afraid.<\/p>\n

That was the first crack in the room.<\/p>\n

Not in the marble.<\/p>\n

Not in the china.<\/p>\n

In the story Margaret had forced everyone to repeat.<\/p>\n

I lowered my hand from my cheek.<\/p>\n

My skin throbbed under my fingertips, but my mind felt strangely clear.<\/p>\n

The slap had not started at dinner.<\/p>\n

It had started the day I married Ethan Whitmore.<\/p>\n

At our reception, Margaret kissed my cheek, held me close enough for the photographer to catch the gesture, and whispered, \u201cDon\u2019t get comfortable.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had thought she meant money.<\/p>\n

I was a public school guidance counselor from Ohio with student loans, a Honda Civic, and parents who showed up to our wedding with a handmade quilt folded carefully in a cardboard box.<\/p>\n

The Whitmores gave gifts in envelopes.<\/p>\n

My parents gave something my mother had spent six months sewing after work.<\/p>\n

Margaret smiled when she saw it, then asked whether there was a registry receipt.<\/p>\n

Ethan heard her.<\/p>\n

He took the quilt from my mother, held it to his chest, and said it was the first thing going on our bed.<\/p>\n

That was one of the reasons I married him.<\/p>\n

He was raised with old money, but he did not worship it.<\/p>\n

He opened doors because he noticed people, not because he wanted credit.<\/p>\n

He tipped without looking around to see who saw.<\/p>\n

He was an architect because he liked turning empty rooms into places where people could breathe.<\/p>\n

Margaret hated that.<\/p>\n

She hated my job because it sounded ordinary.<\/p>\n

She hated that I said \u201cpop\u201d once at brunch.<\/p>\n

She hated that my father wore the same brown suit to three family events because it was the suit he had.<\/p>\n

Most of all, she hated that Ethan seemed peaceful when he was with me.<\/p>\n

Peace is offensive to people who built their power on making everyone else nervous.<\/p>\n

For five years, she tested the locks.<\/p>\n

Thanksgiving seating cards put me at the kids\u2019 table by mistake.<\/p>\n

Family emails left me off the arrival schedule.<\/p>\n

At a hospital fundraiser, while my name badge clearly said my full name, Margaret introduced me to a donor as \u201cEthan\u2019s little school friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed then because I did not want to embarrass Ethan.<\/p>\n

Later that night, in the car, I cried so hard I had to pull my sweater sleeve over my mouth.<\/p>\n

Ethan wanted to confront her.<\/p>\n

I asked him not to.<\/p>\n

That became our pattern.<\/p>\n

She cut.<\/p>\n

I covered.<\/p>\n

He noticed.<\/p>\n

I softened it.<\/p>\n

A marriage can survive hard things, but it cannot survive one person being trained to bleed quietly for the sake of dinner.<\/p>\n

By the fifth year, I had started saving things.<\/p>\n

Not because I was planning a grand revenge.<\/p>\n

Because I needed proof that I was not exaggerating.<\/p>\n

On April 14, at 9:12 p.m., Margaret texted Ethan, \u201cShe will never understand how this family works.\u201d<\/p>\n

On July 3, I took a picture of the guest room closet after she moved my suitcase there without asking.<\/p>\n

By Christmas, I had a folder on my laptop labeled \u201cHouse Notes.\u201d<\/p>\n

It held screenshots, voicemails, donor programs, seating charts, and one photo of the handmade quilt folded in the linen closet after Margaret told the housekeeper it looked \u201ctoo sentimental\u201d on a guest bed.<\/p>\n

Evidence is not always about court.<\/p>\n

Sometimes evidence is the only rope you can throw back to yourself when someone keeps telling you the water is not rising.<\/p>\n

The dinner where she slapped me was supposed to be her birthday dinner.<\/p>\n

Margaret loved birthday dinners because everyone had to praise her in public.<\/p>\n

There was lamb, a salad with pears and walnuts, crystal glasses, candles, and enough silverware at every setting to make my father whisper a joke about needing a map.<\/p>\n

Ethan sat beside me.<\/p>\n

Carter and Brooke sat across from us.<\/p>\n

Richard sat at the far end, already tired.<\/p>\n

Margaret began gently.<\/p>\n

She said the lamb might be too rich for people who preferred plain food.<\/p>\n

She asked whether school counselors still got summers off, as if children stopped needing help in June.<\/p>\n

She asked whether my parents still drove \u201cthat little car\u201d to church.<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n

I touched his wrist under the table.<\/p>\n

Please not here.<\/p>\n

That was what the touch meant.<\/p>\n

Please do not give her the scene she wants.<\/p>\n

Then Margaret raised her glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have always believed,\u201d she said, \u201cthat a good daughter-in-law knows how to honor the woman who raised her husband.\u201d<\/p>\n

People lifted their glasses because that was what people did around Margaret.<\/p>\n

I did not.<\/p>\n

She saw it.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs something wrong, Emily?\u201d<\/p>\n

My name in her mouth sounded like a stain she was trying to scrub out.<\/p>\n

I looked at the glass in front of me.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at Ethan.<\/p>\n

Then I looked back at Margaret.<\/p>\n

\u201cA good mother doesn\u2019t ask to be worshiped for doing the bare minimum,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

The slap came so fast I barely saw her hand move.<\/p>\n

My face turned sideways.<\/p>\n

A heat burst across my cheek.<\/p>\n

The fork jumped.<\/p>\n

The room froze.<\/p>\n

And then she asked me to praise her.<\/p>\n

That was the part Ethan never forgave.<\/p>\n

Not the slap alone.<\/p>\n

The demand after it.<\/p>\n

Cruel people often think the injury is the power, but the real power is making the injured person help decorate the lie.<\/p>\n

Ethan did not decorate it.<\/p>\n

He stood up.<\/p>\n

He chose me.<\/p>\n

And when he told Margaret she could live with Brooke, he did not say it because Brooke deserved punishment.<\/p>\n

He said it because Brooke\u2019s face had betrayed the truth.<\/p>\n

She knew what Margaret was.<\/p>\n

She had been living with a smaller version of it, quietly, carefully, perfectly.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d Brooke whispered.<\/p>\n

That one word changed the room.<\/p>\n

Margaret stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cBrooke, sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brooke did not sit.<\/p>\n

Carter stared at his wife like he had never seen her before.<\/p>\n

I realized then that he probably had not.<\/p>\n

Men raised in houses like that sometimes mistake obedience for happiness.<\/p>\n

Brooke reached into her purse.<\/p>\n

Her hand shook as she pulled out her phone.<\/p>\n

The screen was open to a saved voice memo.<\/p>\n

Margaret \u2013 Kitchen \u2013 8:41 PM.<\/p>\n

Ethan\u2019s fingers tightened around mine.<\/p>\n

Richard finally looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Margaret said.<\/p>\n

It was the first honest word she had spoken all night.<\/p>\n

Brooke looked at me with tears in her eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI recorded it because I thought I was losing my mind,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Her voice was thin, but it did not break.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought if I could hear it later, I could prove to myself she really said it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Carter whispered, \u201cSaid what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Brooke closed her eyes.<\/p>\n

Then she pressed play.<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s voice filled the dining room, clear and sharp from the phone speaker.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will teach Emily her place tonight, or I will make sure Carter understands exactly what kind of wife he married.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nobody breathed.<\/p>\n

The recording continued.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think because you have a pretty smile and a charity committee, you are safe in this family? You are safe because I allow it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brooke covered her mouth with one hand.<\/p>\n

Carter\u2019s chair scraped back.<\/p>\n

\u201cMother,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

It was not loud.<\/p>\n

It did not need to be.<\/p>\n

Margaret reached for the phone, but Ethan caught her wrist before she touched it.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

One word.<\/p>\n

Margaret looked at him like he had slapped her.<\/p>\n

That was when Richard spoke.<\/p>\n

For five years, I had heard Richard say almost nothing that mattered.<\/p>\n

He had built a life around letting his wife decide the temperature of every room.<\/p>\n

But that night, he looked at the phone, then at Brooke, then at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cMargaret,\u201d he said, \u201csit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

She turned on him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou too?\u201d<\/p>\n

Richard swallowed.<\/p>\n

His hands trembled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have said something years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room seemed to tilt.<\/p>\n

Aunt Linda started crying.<\/p>\n

Carter walked around the table to Brooke, but she stepped back before he reached her.<\/p>\n

That tiny step told him more than any speech could have.<\/p>\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t know,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Brooke looked at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t ask.\u201d<\/p>\n

Those three words broke something open.<\/p>\n

Not loudly.<\/p>\n

Not dramatically.<\/p>\n

Just cleanly.<\/p>\n

Like a plate finally cracking down the center after years of hairline fractures.<\/p>\n

Ethan helped me stand.<\/p>\n

My knees felt unsteady, but my voice did not.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re leaving,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Margaret\u2019s eyes snapped to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will not walk out of my house after disrespecting me at my own table.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the fork beside my plate.<\/p>\n

Then I looked at the red mark blooming across my cheek in the reflection of the dark window.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is not respect,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Ethan took my coat from the back of the chair.<\/p>\n

No one stopped us.<\/p>\n

That may have been the most damning part.<\/p>\n

After five years of opinions, instructions, corrections, and warnings, nobody had anything to say when we finally refused to stay.<\/p>\n

We went upstairs only long enough to pack what belonged to us.<\/p>\n

Ethan opened drawers with a precision that looked almost calm.<\/p>\n

Two suitcases.<\/p>\n

My laptop.<\/p>\n

His sketchbooks.<\/p>\n

My folder of notes.<\/p>\n

The quilt my mother made.<\/p>\n

I found it in the linen closet, still folded on the high shelf.<\/p>\n

When I pulled it down, the cotton smelled faintly of cedar and dust.<\/p>\n

I pressed it against my chest for one second.<\/p>\n

Then I carried it out.<\/p>\n

Margaret stood in the upstairs hallway.<\/p>\n

Her cheek was not red.<\/p>\n

Her hair was not out of place.<\/p>\n

That made her look even smaller somehow.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are making a mistake,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Ethan zipped the suitcase.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cI made it five years ago when I asked my wife to be patient with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him.<\/p>\n

He looked back at me with eyes I would remember for the rest of my life.<\/p>\n

Not guilty.<\/p>\n

Not performative.<\/p>\n

Ready.<\/p>\n

Downstairs, Brooke was still crying quietly.<\/p>\n

Carter stood near her but did not touch her.<\/p>\n

Richard sat alone at the table with his head bowed.<\/p>\n

The candles had burned low.<\/p>\n

The lamb had gone cold.<\/p>\n

The portrait on the wall still showed the perfect family Margaret wanted everyone to believe in.<\/p>\n

It looked ridiculous now.<\/p>\n

Ethan carried the suitcases to the front door.<\/p>\n

I carried the quilt.<\/p>\n

When we reached the driveway, the cold air hit my cheek and made it sting all over again.<\/p>\n

Our car was parked behind Carter\u2019s SUV.<\/p>\n

Ethan loaded the bags without speaking.<\/p>\n

Then he came around to my side and opened the passenger door.<\/p>\n

From the doorway, Margaret called, \u201cEthan.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n

She did not say she was sorry.<\/p>\n

She did not ask if I was okay.<\/p>\n

She said, \u201cThink about what you\u2019re throwing away.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan looked at the house.<\/p>\n

The chandeliers.<\/p>\n

The iron gate.<\/p>\n

The polished windows.<\/p>\n

The porch light glowing over his mother\u2019s perfect front steps.<\/p>\n

Then he looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

We got in the car.<\/p>\n

As we backed down the driveway, Brooke stepped onto the porch.<\/p>\n

She did not wave.<\/p>\n

She just stood there holding her phone like a lifeline.<\/p>\n

Carter came out behind her, slower, uncertain.<\/p>\n

For the first time, he looked young.<\/p>\n

For the first time, he looked scared of the silence he had inherited.<\/p>\n

Ethan reached across the console and took my hand.<\/p>\n

Neither of us spoke until the gate opened.<\/p>\n

Then the door of the Whitmore house slammed shut behind us.<\/p>\n

The sound did not feel like losing a family.<\/p>\n

It felt like leaving a room where everyone had been holding their breath for years.<\/p>\n

We spent that night at a roadside hotel with thin towels and a humming heater.<\/p>\n

Ethan ordered burgers from the diner across the parking lot.<\/p>\n

I sat on the bed with an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth against my cheek while he spread my mother\u2019s quilt over the scratchy hotel comforter.<\/p>\n

It looked wildly out of place there.<\/p>\n

That was why it was perfect.<\/p>\n

At 1:17 a.m., my phone buzzed.<\/p>\n

It was Brooke.<\/p>\n

I almost did not answer.<\/p>\n

Ethan nodded.<\/p>\n

So I did.<\/p>\n

For a few seconds, all I heard was breathing.<\/p>\n

Then Brooke whispered, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n

I had wanted that sentence from so many people for so long that when it finally came, I did not know what to do with it.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe too,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

She cried then.<\/p>\n

Not polite crying.<\/p>\n

Not dinner-table crying.<\/p>\n

The kind that comes from realizing the cage had a door the whole time, and you were just trained not to touch it.<\/p>\n

Carter came on the line next.<\/p>\n

His voice sounded wrecked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI failed both of you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Ethan took the phone from me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen start there,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

No speech.<\/p>\n

No forgiveness handed out like a favor.<\/p>\n

Just a place to begin.<\/p>\n

The next morning, Ethan signed a lease for a small apartment above a bakery three towns over.<\/p>\n

It had old floors, terrible water pressure, and one window that looked over an alley.<\/p>\n

He loved it because it had light.<\/p>\n

I loved it because Margaret had no key.<\/p>\n

By noon, he had changed our mailing address.<\/p>\n

By three, I had moved the folder from \u201cHouse Notes\u201d to a flash drive and put it in a safe-deposit box.<\/p>\n

Not because I planned to use it.<\/p>\n

Because I was done being the only person expected to remember accurately.<\/p>\n

Over the next few weeks, the family split in quiet ways.<\/p>\n

Aunt Linda called and apologized.<\/p>\n

Richard left one voicemail that said, \u201cI should have protected peace instead of protecting appearances.\u201d<\/p>\n

I saved it.<\/p>\n

Carter and Brooke started counseling.<\/p>\n

Margaret sent one email with the subject line \u201cMisunderstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ethan deleted it without opening it.<\/p>\n

Six months later, Brooke invited me to coffee.<\/p>\n

She looked different.<\/p>\n

Not happier exactly.<\/p>\n

Lighter.<\/p>\n

She told me she had played the recording for Carter three more times, not to punish him, but because he kept trying to make it smaller.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt helps when he hears her voice,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

I understood that completely.<\/p>\n

Some people only believe pain when it comes with a timestamp.<\/p>\n

We sat at a little table by the window with paper cups between us.<\/p>\n

She reached into her purse and pulled out a folded note.<\/p>\n

It was not from Margaret.<\/p>\n

It was from Richard.<\/p>\n

He had written only two lines.<\/p>\n

I watched your silence become survival.<\/p>\n

I am sorry I mistook it for peace.<\/p>\n

Brooke\u2019s hands shook as she read it.<\/p>\n

Mine did too.<\/p>\n

I did not become best friends with Brooke.<\/p>\n

Stories like this are rarely that neat.<\/p>\n

But we became honest.<\/p>\n

That mattered more.<\/p>\n

Ethan and I still have the quilt on our bed.<\/p>\n

Our apartment is bigger now.<\/p>\n

He designed the shelves himself.<\/p>\n

The Honda Civic finally died at 214,000 miles, and my father still tells people it could have gone longer if I had listened to him about oil changes.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, when I set the table, I hear the memory of that fork ringing against china.<\/p>\n

For a long time, the sound made me flinch.<\/p>\n

Now it reminds me that a tiny thing can tell the truth before anyone else is brave enough to say it.<\/p>\n

Eighteen grown adults watched my cheek burn and taught me exactly how expensive silence could be.<\/p>\n

But one husband stood up.<\/p>\n

One woman pressed play.<\/p>\n

One door slammed.<\/p>\n

And for the first time in five years, the silence that followed belonged to me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The slap landed so hard the silver fork beside my plate jumped and rang against the china. For three seconds, nobody breathed. Then my mother-in-law smiled at me with her … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":22641,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,22,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22640","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22640","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=22640"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22640\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22642,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22640\/revisions\/22642"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/22641"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=22640"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=22640"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=22640"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}