{"id":22864,"date":"2026-06-04T16:13:51","date_gmt":"2026-06-04T09:13:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=22864"},"modified":"2026-06-04T16:13:51","modified_gmt":"2026-06-04T09:13:51","slug":"my-8-year-old-daughter-was-getting-a-haircut-when-the-hairdresser-suddenly-froze-then-my-daughter-whispered-something-that-terrified-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/?p=22864","title":{"rendered":"My 8-year-old daughter was getting a haircut when the hairdresser suddenly froze\u2014then my daughter whispered something that terrified me."},"content":{"rendered":"

I held the phone higher between us while Ava\u2019s fingers twisted tightly into the back of my sweater, her breathing shallow enough to make my chest ache beside her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
<\/div>\n

\u201cYou sent this twenty minutes ago,\u201d I said quietly, refusing to raise my voice while every pair of eyes inside the salon stayed locked on Daniel\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

He stared at the screen for only a second before shrugging too quickly, like the message meant nothing once another person had witnessed it.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe stole from me,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Ava flinched behind me so hard the chair wheels squeaked softly against the tile floor, and that tiny sound seemed louder than the dryers overhead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did she steal?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

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

Daniel rubbed one hand across his jaw and glanced toward the receptionist, toward Marisol, toward the women pretending not to stare directly at him anymore.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy watch,\u201d he said finally. \u201cMy grandfather\u2019s watch disappeared Wednesday night, and she kept lying about touching it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ava\u2019s grip tightened harder around my sweater.<\/p>\n

I looked down at her trembling fingers and remembered Wednesday morning suddenly, painfully clear, like somebody reopening a bruise that had barely started healing.<\/p>\n

Daniel slamming drawers downstairs before school.<\/p>\n

Ava eating cereal silently without cartoons playing.<\/p>\n

The strange red mark near her hairline that she covered fast when I asked if she bumped into something.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Little moments I had walked past because life was always busy and exhaustion makes terrible excuses feel reasonable.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou shaved her head,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

His eyes hardened immediately. \u201cI did not shave her head.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marisol crossed her arms. \u201cThen how did that word get there?\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel looked straight at me again instead of answering her question, and somehow that frightened me more than shouting would have frightened me.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe lies,\u201d he said softly. \u201cYou know she lies when she\u2019s scared.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words landed like poison because they sounded familiar.<\/p>\n

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

Not from Ava.<\/p>\n

From me.<\/p>\n

Three months earlier, sitting in bed while Daniel complained that Ava cried too easily whenever she got in trouble, and I had nodded because parenting was hard.<\/p>\n

Now I heard my own silence echoing back at me through his voice.<\/p>\n

Ava buried her face against my side.<\/p>\n

\u201cMom,\u201d she whispered shakily, \u201cI didn\u2019t touch the watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

I crouched beside her again and brushed loose hair carefully from her cheek, trying not to let my hands shake while I looked into her terrified eyes.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cI believe you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

The sentence changed something inside the room.<\/p>\n

Not loudly.<\/p>\n

Not dramatically.<\/p>\n

But Ava\u2019s shoulders loosened for the first time since Marisol lifted her hair, and Daniel\u2019s expression cracked almost invisibly before turning colder than before.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re seriously doing this here?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I stood slowly.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cWhat exactly happened Wednesday night?\u201d I asked him.<\/p>\n

Daniel exhaled through his nose like he was already exhausted by me.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe kept lying,\u201d he repeated. \u201cI wanted to scare her a little so she\u2019d tell the truth. That\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

The receptionist made a broken sound behind the desk.<\/p>\n

Marisol stepped closer to Ava\u2019s chair again without taking her eyes off Daniel once, and suddenly I realized everybody in that salon was waiting for me.<\/p>\n

Waiting to see which version of reality I would choose.<\/p>\n

The familiar one.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Or the true one standing directly in front of me.<\/p>\n

Daniel noticed it too.<\/p>\n

His voice softened instantly, becoming the careful tone he used whenever neighbors visited or teachers called about school events.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know me,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cYou know I\u2019d never hurt her.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach twisted because part of me still wanted desperately to believe exactly that.<\/p>\n

Not because the evidence made sense.<\/p>\n

Not because Ava\u2019s fear could be explained away.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

But because accepting the truth meant admitting I had missed something terrible happening inside my own home while calling it safety.<\/p>\n

And mothers are supposed to notice.<\/p>\n

That thought sat inside my chest heavier than rage.<\/p>\n

Daniel took one slow step forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cAva,\u201d he said gently, \u201ctell your mom where you found the watch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ava did not answer.<\/p>\n

Her face stayed pressed against my side, breathing unevenly through the pink salon cape while tiny cut hairs clung to her sneakers like dark threads.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cAva,\u201d he repeated.<\/p>\n

Then she whispered something so quietly I almost missed it.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn your truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

The salon went completely silent.<\/p>\n

Daniel blinked once.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou left it in your truck,\u201d Ava whispered again, louder now, but still shaking hard enough her words broke apart between breaths. \u201cI saw it Thursday morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

For one second, nobody moved.<\/p>\n

Then I watched Daniel\u2019s face change.<\/p>\n

Not confusion.<\/p>\n

Calculation.<\/p>\n

His eyes flicked away first.<\/p>\n

Toward the front window.<\/p>\n

Toward the exit.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Toward anything except Ava.<\/p>\n

And suddenly I remembered another moment from two weeks earlier when he accused her of spilling coffee inside his truck even after finding the empty cup himself later.<\/p>\n

He never apologized.<\/p>\n

He only acted nicer afterward.<\/p>\n

Like kindness could erase fear if repeated long enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou searched the truck?\u201d I asked carefully.<\/p>\n

Daniel\u2019s jaw tightened again. \u201cThat\u2019s not the point.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said slowly, hearing my own heartbeat louder now, \u201cI think it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

A woman near the dryers quietly picked up her purse and moved closer to the front counter, not leaving, just staying near enough if something happened.<\/p>\n

Daniel noticed that too.<\/p>\n

Now his anger started showing around the edges faster.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is insane,\u201d he muttered. \u201cYou\u2019re acting like I beat her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ava made another small frightened sound.<\/p>\n

And that was it.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Not the word LIAR hidden beneath her hair.<\/p>\n

Not the bruised skin.<\/p>\n

Not even the text message.<\/p>\n

It was the instinctive fear in her body whenever his voice sharpened even slightly.<\/p>\n

Fear trained through repetition.<\/p>\n

Fear that had learned survival before childhood finished.<\/p>\n

I looked at the man I had shared a bed with for three years and realized I no longer knew whether every gentle moment had been real or simply convenient.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

The thought hollowed me out.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen did you cut her hair?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

He rubbed both hands over his face roughly. \u201cJesus Christ.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWednesday night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ava started crying silently again.<\/p>\n

Daniel pointed toward her immediately. \u201cSee? She\u2019s upset because you\u2019re making this bigger than it was.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

Marisol spoke before I could.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe is upset because she\u2019s terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n

Daniel snapped toward her. \u201cStay out of my family.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe already is part of this,\u201d I said quietly.<\/p>\n

He looked back at me then, really looked at me, and I saw the exact moment he understood the ground beneath him had shifted.<\/p>\n

Not completely.<\/p>\n

But enough.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

His voice lowered again, urgent now instead of angry.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re tired,\u201d he said softly. \u201cWe can go home and talk privately.\u201d<\/p>\n

Home.<\/p>\n

The word hit me strangely.<\/p>\n

Not warm.<\/p>\n

Not safe.<\/p>\n

Just heavy.<\/p>\n

I pictured Ava sleeping with her hallway light on.<\/p>\n

I pictured the hidden patch beneath her hair.<\/p>\n

I pictured all the mornings she suddenly wanted me to brush her hair instead of doing it herself lately.<\/p>\n

Tiny details.<\/p>\n

Tiny warnings.<\/p>\n

I had walked past every one.<\/p>\n

My throat burned so badly I could barely speak.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou marked the word liar onto her skin,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was marker.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou cut her hair.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was trying to teach her a lesson.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s eight.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face hardened again immediately, like compassion required too much effort to maintain.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe needs discipline.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ava\u2019s breathing hitched behind me.<\/p>\n

And suddenly I heard something else too.<\/p>\n

Not inside the salon.<\/p>\n

A memory.<\/p>\n

Daniel laughing months ago while telling a friend that kids only respected consequences if they remembered them afterward.<\/p>\n

At the time, it sounded strict.<\/p>\n

Now it sounded different.<\/p>\n

Everything sounded different.<\/p>\n

I looked down at my daughter again.<\/p>\n

\u201cAva,\u201d I whispered, \u201cwhy didn\u2019t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n

She wiped her face clumsily against the cape.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he said you needed him,\u201d she whispered. \u201cAnd if you got mad enough, you\u2019d send me away to my dad\u2019s house forever.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

Daniel immediately shook his head. \u201cI never said that.\u201d<\/p>\n

But he spoke too fast.<\/p>\n

Too sharp.<\/p>\n

And Ava shrank again before he even finished the sentence.<\/p>\n

That reaction told me more than words ever could.<\/p>\n

I felt something inside me settle then.<\/p>\n

Not peace.<\/p>\n

Nothing close to peace.<\/p>\n

Just clarity.<\/p>\n

The awful kind.<\/p>\n

The kind that arrives quietly after denial finally runs out of places to hide.<\/p>\n

I straightened slowly and picked up my purse from the counter while Daniel watched every movement carefully now.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

I slid my phone into my coat pocket beside the salon incident note Marisol had written earlier, making sure the paper stayed flat and protected.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cWe\u2019re not going home with you today.\u201d<\/p>\n

His face emptied completely for half a heartbeat.<\/p>\n

Then anger rushed back twice as hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t be serious.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s manipulating you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said softly. \u201cI think she\u2019s been trying to survive you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words hung between us.<\/p>\n

Heavy.<\/p>\n

Final.<\/p>\n

Outside, a truck passed slowly through the shopping plaza parking lot, bass vibrating faintly through the salon windows while somewhere near the back sink water continued running unnoticed.<\/p>\n

Normal sounds.<\/p>\n

Ordinary afternoon.<\/p>\n

But everything inside my life had shifted permanently beneath those fluorescent lights.<\/p>\n

Daniel stepped forward again. \u201cYou\u2019re making a mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

Maybe I was.<\/p>\n

Maybe every choice after this would hurt somebody.<\/p>\n

Maybe Ava would ask later why I stayed so long without seeing clearly.<\/p>\n

Maybe I would ask myself the same question forever.<\/p>\n

But when I looked at my daughter\u2019s frightened face beside me, only one truth still mattered.<\/p>\n

She was asking me, without saying it directly, whether I would protect her now that I finally understood.<\/p>\n

And this time, I could not survive by pretending not to see.<\/p>\n

I reached for Ava\u2019s hand carefully.<\/p>\n

Her fingers slid into mine instantly.<\/p>\n

Then, before Daniel could speak again, I pulled out my phone, opened the emergency keypad with shaking hands, and pressed call.<\/p>\n

The police arrived twelve minutes later while Ava sat beside me in the salon waiting chair, still wearing the pink cape around her shoulders like armor.<\/p>\n

Daniel tried speaking first the moment the officers stepped inside, calm again now, voice controlled carefully enough to sound almost believable to strangers.<\/p>\n

But fear leaves traces.<\/p>\n

Not dramatic ones.<\/p>\n

Small ones.<\/p>\n

The way Ava stopped breathing whenever he moved too suddenly.<\/p>\n

The way she watched the door constantly afterward, like she expected somebody to force her back through it.<\/p>\n

One officer knelt beside her gently while the other asked me questions near the front desk under the buzzing fluorescent lights.<\/p>\n

I answered everything slowly because my brain felt heavy and distant, as if exhaustion had wrapped itself around every thought.<\/p>\n

Dates.<\/p>\n

Times.<\/p>\n

The photo.<\/p>\n

The text message.<\/p>\n

The hidden patch beneath her hair.<\/p>\n

Saying the details aloud made them real in a way silence never had.<\/p>\n

Daniel kept interrupting.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe lies when she panics.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe exaggerates.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI never touched her.\u201d<\/p>\n

But every denial arrived half a second too quickly.<\/p>\n

And every time his voice sharpened, Ava folded further into herself beside the waiting chairs without realizing she was doing it.<\/p>\n

One officer noticed.<\/p>\n

I saw it happen in his face.<\/p>\n

Not judgment.<\/p>\n

Recognition.<\/p>\n

Like he had seen children react that way before.<\/p>\n

By 2:40 p.m., they asked Daniel to step outside.<\/p>\n

He looked at me one last time before leaving the salon, anger flickering beneath his controlled expression like something barely held shut behind a locked door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re destroying this family,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

Then he walked outside into the gray afternoon while the bell above the door jingled softly behind him.<\/p>\n

I expected relief afterward.<\/p>\n

Instead, I felt hollow.<\/p>\n

Like surviving something painful did not immediately make a person stronger, only more aware of how much damage already existed underneath.<\/p>\n

Ava finally let Marisol finish trimming her hair an hour later.<\/p>\n

Not because appearances mattered anymore.<\/p>\n

Because Marisol asked gently, \u201cDo you want the uneven parts cleaned up a little, sweetheart?\u201d and Ava nodded after thinking for almost thirty seconds.<\/p>\n

The cut ended above her shoulders exactly how she originally wanted.<\/p>\n

But shorter on one side.<\/p>\n

Marisol tried fixing it twice before Ava quietly said, \u201cIt\u2019s okay like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

So we left it uneven.<\/p>\n

Somehow that felt honest.<\/p>\n

That night, Ava and I slept at my sister Elena\u2019s apartment across town with grocery bags full of hurriedly packed clothes sitting untouched beside the couch.<\/p>\n

Neither of us slept much.<\/p>\n

At 3:12 a.m., I woke up hearing movement and found Ava standing silently near the hallway light in borrowed pajamas too big for her.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

She stared at the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought I heard his truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pulled her into bed beside me after that.<\/p>\n

She fell asleep eventually with one hand clutching my sleeve tightly enough to wrinkle the fabric by morning.<\/p>\n

Three days later, the pediatrician documented the scalp injury officially.<\/p>\n

Five days later, a social worker interviewed Ava privately while I waited outside pretending to read old magazines from a plastic waiting table.<\/p>\n

Every minute felt endless.<\/p>\n

I kept replaying memories while staring at those untouched magazines.<\/p>\n

Daniel teaching Ava multiplication with M&Ms.<\/p>\n

Daniel braiding her hair badly before school once while laughing at himself in the kitchen mirror.<\/p>\n

Daniel kneeling beside her bike after she scraped her knee last summer.<\/p>\n

Good memories do not disappear when somebody hurts you.<\/p>\n

That was the cruelest part.<\/p>\n

If monsters looked like monsters all the time, nobody would stay long enough to love them.<\/p>\n

The investigation moved slowly after that.<\/p>\n

Painfully slowly.<\/p>\n

Daniel moved out before the temporary protection order officially forced him to.<\/p>\n

He sent long texts at first.<\/p>\n

Then emails.<\/p>\n

Then voice messages alternating between apologies and blame.<\/p>\n

I listened to exactly two before deleting the rest unheard.<\/p>\n

Not because it was easy.<\/p>\n

Because every time his voice played through the speaker, Ava froze wherever she was in the room.<\/p>\n

That reaction became my answer whenever guilt tried creeping back into me at night.<\/p>\n

And guilt did creep back.<\/p>\n

Often.<\/p>\n

Especially during ordinary moments.<\/p>\n

Standing alone in grocery aisles.<\/p>\n

Folding laundry without his clothes mixed inside anymore.<\/p>\n

Finding his coffee mug still shoved behind other dishes weeks later because neither of us could bear touching it.<\/p>\n

Loss does not stay neatly attached only to bad memories.<\/p>\n

It bleeds into good ones too.<\/p>\n

That winter, Ava stopped asking for hallway lights at bedtime.<\/p>\n

Instead, she asked me to leave her bedroom door open slightly.<\/p>\n

Just enough.<\/p>\n

One night while brushing her shorter hair after a bath, I finally asked the question sitting inside my chest for months.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell me sooner?\u201d<\/p>\n

She stayed quiet long enough I thought maybe she would not answer.<\/p>\n

Then she looked at herself in the mirror instead of at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he always acted normal again after,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

I stopped brushing.<\/p>\n

Ava picked nervously at the sleeve of her pajamas before continuing softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019d get mad. Then later he\u2019d bring food home or help me with homework or say sorry without saying the word sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

The brush felt heavy in my hand suddenly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s confusing for kids,\u201d she said quietly, repeating words that sounded practiced now, probably from therapy sessions I still waited outside during every Thursday afternoon.<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

She looked at me then.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you believed me in the salon.\u201d<\/p>\n

The sentence broke something open inside my chest so suddenly I had to look away toward the bathroom counter just to breathe normally again.<\/p>\n

Because she said it like surprise still lived inside the memory.<\/p>\n

Like belief had not been guaranteed.<\/p>\n

Spring arrived slowly afterward.<\/p>\n

The bruise beneath Ava\u2019s hair faded first.<\/p>\n

Then the healing line.<\/p>\n

Eventually the patch grew soft little strands again, stubborn and uneven but alive.<\/p>\n

The word LIAR disappeared last.<\/p>\n

I watched it vanish week by week while helping dry her hair before school each morning.<\/p>\n

First the letters blurred.<\/p>\n

Then only shadows remained.<\/p>\n

Then one Tuesday in April, I parted her hair carefully under the bathroom light and realized the skin beneath looked ordinary again.<\/p>\n

I sat down on the toilet lid afterward and cried quietly while Ava searched for her sneakers in the hallway without noticing.<\/p>\n

Not because everything was fixed.<\/p>\n

Nothing was fixed completely.<\/p>\n

But because healing had happened slowly enough I almost missed it.<\/p>\n

Daniel pleaded guilty to child endangerment six months later.<\/p>\n

No trial.<\/p>\n

No dramatic courtroom confession.<\/p>\n

Just paperwork.<\/p>\n

Lawyers.<\/p>\n

Exhausted faces.<\/p>\n

A judge speaking calmly inside a room too cold from air conditioning.<\/p>\n

Daniel never looked directly at me during the hearing.<\/p>\n

Only at Ava once.<\/p>\n

She held my hand tighter immediately without turning toward him.<\/p>\n

That was the moment I understood something difficult and permanent.<\/p>\n

Love alone had never protected her.<\/p>\n

Attention would have.<\/p>\n

Listening would have.<\/p>\n

Believing small fears before they became larger ones would have.<\/p>\n

That truth stayed with me long after the courtroom emptied.<\/p>\n

Almost a year later, Ava asked for another haircut.<\/p>\n

Same salon.<\/p>\n

Same swivel chair.<\/p>\n

When Marisol clipped the cape around her neck this time, Ava smiled nervously and said, \u201cNo secrets under there anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marisol\u2019s eyes watered immediately.<\/p>\n

Mine did too.<\/p>\n

Outside the salon window, people walked past carrying shopping bags and coffee cups beneath pale afternoon sunlight, ordinary lives continuing without noticing ours.<\/p>\n

Ava studied herself in the mirror while tiny pieces of hair fell across the cape into her lap again.<\/p>\n

Then she looked at me through the reflection.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould I go shorter?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

I laughed softly for the first time in longer than I realized.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want to,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

And this time, when the scissors started cutting, neither of us felt afraid.<\/p>\n<\/article>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I held the phone higher between us while Ava\u2019s fingers twisted tightly into the back of my sweater, her breathing shallow enough to make my chest ache beside her. \u201cYou … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":22865,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[24,22,20],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22864","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\/22864","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=22864"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22864\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22866,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22864\/revisions\/22866"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/22865"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=22864"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=22864"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readinstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=22864"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}