My daughter vanished at 16 without her phone, her sandals, or any explanation. Eight years later, the first real clue I found was not a message or a police call, but a handmade piece of clothing on a stranger.<\/p>\n
My 16-year-old daughter, Nora, disappeared from a crowded beach eight years ago.<\/p>\n
She told me she was walking down to the ice cream stand at the far end.<\/p>\n
I watched her go.<\/p>\n
I remember thinking she\u2019d gotten tall over the winter.<\/p>\n
Twenty minutes later, her towel was still on the sand next to mine.<\/p>\n
Her sandals were sitting on top of it, and her phone was face-down in her bag.<\/p>\n
At first, I was annoyed.<\/p>\n
Then worried.<\/p>\n
Then terrified.<\/p>\n
Lifeguards searched the water.<\/p>\n
Police checked the bathrooms, parking lots, hotels, and roads leading away from the beach.<\/p>\n
They found the ice cream stand.<\/p>\n
Nobody working there remembered seeing her.<\/p>\n
They found nothing.<\/p>\n
The last thing Nora had been wearing was a turquoise cover-up my mother had sewn for her that spring.<\/p>\n
It was light cotton, loose enough to throw over a swimsuit.<\/p>\n
My mother had embroidered Nora\u2019s initials, N. V., inside the bottom hem.<\/p>\n
On the first day of that trip, Nora caught one corner on a piece of driftwood and tore it.<\/p>\n
My mother had been with us.<\/p>\n
She patched the tear with a crooked little yellow sun.<\/p>\n
Nora laughed when she saw it.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt looks funny now.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother said, \u201cIt looks unique.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nora rubbed the stitching between her fingers and smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI like it better ruined.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence lived in my head for years.<\/p>\n
I had one photo of Nora wearing the cover-up.<\/p>\n
I took it about 40 minutes before she disappeared.<\/p>\n
She was standing on the sand, squinting into the sun, one hand raised because she was telling me to stop taking pictures.<\/p>\n
For eight years, I stared at that photo.<\/p>\n
Police enlarged it. News stations used it. Volunteers printed it on flyers.<\/p>\n
It all amounted to nothing.<\/p>\n
Eventually, the searches stopped.<\/p>\n
The calls slowed.<\/p>\n
People stopped asking what they could do.<\/p>\n
Life kept moving for everyone except us.<\/p>\n
My husband, Michael, and I stayed together, although grief changed both of us.<\/p>\n
He became quieter.<\/p>\n
I became obsessed with details.<\/p>\n
Every unidentified young woman in the news.<\/p>\n
Every sighting.<\/p>\n
Every message from some stranger claiming they had seen Nora in a bus station or grocery store.<\/p>\n
Most were nothing.<\/p>\n
A few were cruel.<\/p>\n
I stopped going to beaches.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t hear waves without remembering that afternoon.<\/p>\n
So when Michael suggested a weekend in a coastal town almost 600 miles from home, I said no.<\/p>\n
Then he asked again.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t have to be about the beach,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is literally a beach town.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can eat. Walk around. Sit somewhere. Leave if you hate it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
He looked tired.<\/p>\n
We were both in our 40s and had spent eight years arranging our lives around an absence.<\/p>\n
So I agreed.<\/p>\n
The first day was hard.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t go near the water.<\/p>\n
We walked along the boardwalk instead.<\/p>\n
Michael bought coffee.<\/p>\n
I pretended not to notice families carrying towels.<\/p>\n
Then we passed a cafe with outdoor tables.<\/p>\n
A woman stood near the railing talking to one of the servers.<\/p>\n
She was maybe 50, maybe older.<\/p>\n
She wore a faded turquoise cover-up.<\/p>\n
My heart stopped before my brain understood why.<\/p>\n
I told myself there must be thousands of turquoise beach cover-ups in the world.<\/p>\n
Then the wind lifted one corner.<\/p>\n
I saw the yellow sun.<\/p>\n
Crooked and hand-stitched.<\/p>\n
Exactly where my mother had sewn it.<\/p>\n
I crossed the terrace without realizing I had moved.<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere did you get that?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked down at herself.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her expression changed slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve had it for years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere did you get it?\u201d<\/p>\n
My hands were shaking.<\/p>\n
Michael called my name behind me.<\/p>\n
I ignored him.<\/p>\n
I pulled out my phone.<\/p>\n
It took me three tries to open the right photo.<\/p>\n
Then I held it up.<\/p>\n
Nora at 16, wearing the turquoise cover-up with the yellow sun.<\/p>\n
The woman stopped moving.<\/p>\n
She stared at the picture.<\/p>\n
Then at me.<\/p>\n
Then past me.<\/p>\n
Her hand closed around my wrist.<\/p>\n
\u201cPut that away,\u201d she said quietly. \u201cShe can\u2019t know you\u2019re here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt the world tilt.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman\u2019s eyes filled with something I couldn\u2019t read.<\/p>\n
Fear, maybe.<\/p>\n
Or pity.<\/p>\n
Then she whispered, \u201cNora.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
At first, I didn\u2019t see her.<\/p>\n
There were too many people.<\/p>\n
Then I looked through the cafe window.<\/p>\n
A young woman in a black apron was carrying two plates toward a table.<\/p>\n
She had dark hair pulled into a low ponytail.<\/p>\n
She was thinner than Nora had been.<\/p>\n
Older, obviously.<\/p>\n
Her face had changed.<\/p>\n
But not enough.<\/p>\n
I knew my daughter.<\/p>\n
My knees nearly gave out.<\/p>\n
Michael caught my arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t speak.<\/p>\n
The woman grabbed my other hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t go in there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael followed my gaze.<\/p>\n
I felt his whole body go rigid.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, my God.\u201d<\/p>\n
He started toward the cafe.<\/p>\n
The woman stepped in front of him. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael looked at her like she was insane. \u201cMove.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is our daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know who she is.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen move.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said his name.<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know why, but something in the woman\u2019s face made me stop.<\/p>\n
She wasn\u2019t trying to keep Nora from us forever.<\/p>\n
She looked terrified of what would happen if we walked inside.<\/p>\n
I asked, \u201cWho are you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Elaine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you know Nora?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked toward the window.<\/p>\n
Nora was laughing at something a customer had said.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t heard her laugh in eight years.<\/p>\n
Elaine lowered her voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to run a small women\u2019s shelter about 40 minutes from here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael and I stared at her.<\/p>\n
Elaine continued. \u201cNora came to us four years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
My chest tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cFour years ago?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was 20.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere was she before that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine closed her eyes briefly. \u201cStuck with a man.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt sick. \u201cWhat man?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at both of us. \u201cI think we should sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n
We went around the side of the cafe to a small patio area where Nora couldn\u2019t easily see us.<\/p>\n
I hated every second of it.<\/p>\n
I wanted to go inside.<\/p>\n
I wanted to touch her face.<\/p>\n
I wanted to hear her say \u201cMom.\u201d<\/p>\n
But Elaine kept saying the same thing.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you surprise her, she may run.\u201d<\/p>\n
That stopped me every time.<\/p>\n
She said Nora had arrived at the shelter late one night.<\/p>\n
She had no bag, no phone, and barely any money.<\/p>\n
She had been frightened, exhausted, and very careful about what she said.<\/p>\n
At first, she used another name.<\/p>\n
It took weeks before she admitted she had family somewhere else.<\/p>\n
Months after arriving, she admitted that she had disappeared as a teenager.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe told you about us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEventually.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why didn\u2019t you call the police?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine looked at me directly.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause she was an adult when she came to me, and because she begged me not to contact anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew she was a missing person.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut eventually.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you did nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine\u2019s voice stayed calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cI encouraged her to contact you. Repeatedly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. It isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I understood his anger.<\/p>\n
Part of me shared it.<\/p>\n
But another part of me was clinging to the fact that Nora had survived long enough to reach Elaine.<\/p>\n
I asked, \u201cWhat happened to her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine glanced toward the cafe again.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe left the beach with a 19-year-old boy named Caleb.\u201d<\/p>\n
The name meant nothing to me.<\/p>\n
That somehow made it worse.<\/p>\n
Elaine said Nora had been seeing him secretly for a few months.<\/p>\n
He lived in another town.<\/p>\n
They had met online after Nora lied about her age on a dating app.<\/p>\n
Nora knew that Michael and I would never approve of a 19-year-old dating our 16-year-old daughter.<\/p>\n
So she hid him.<\/p>\n
Caleb had been trying to convince her to spend time alone with him for a while.<\/p>\n
On that fateful day, he convinced her to leave the beach with him.<\/p>\n
Just for a weekend.<\/p>\n
That was what he told her.<\/p>\n
They would go away for two days.<\/p>\n
A little adventure.<\/p>\n
A chance to prove her love for him.<\/p>\n
Nora left her phone behind because Caleb said her parents would track it.<\/p>\n
She left her sandals because she had been walking barefoot anyway.<\/p>\n
She wore the cover-up over her swimsuit and climbed into his car.<\/p>\n
I pressed both hands over my mouth.<\/p>\n
Michael looked like he might be sick.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened? Why didn\u2019t she come home?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine was quiet for a moment. \u201cBecause he didn\u2019t take her back.\u201d<\/p>\n
At first, Nora apparently believed he was just extending the trip.<\/p>\n
Then he started controlling where she went.<\/p>\n
He held onto her money.<\/p>\n
He told her the police were looking for him too now and that if she went home, both of them would be arrested.<\/p>\n
Then he started telling her that we hated her.<\/p>\n
That we\u2019d never forgive her.<\/p>\n
That everyone would think she was stupid.<\/p>\n
They moved several times.<\/p>\n
Cheap motels, his friends\u2019 apartments, and then another state.<\/p>\n
Caleb worked irregular jobs and made Nora work too.<\/p>\n
He kept most of what she earned.<\/p>\n
When she tried to leave, he threatened her.<\/p>\n
Sometimes physically.<\/p>\n
Sometimes by telling her he\u2019d make sure she never saw us again.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told her he knew where you lived and could harm you if he wanted,\u201d Elaine said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid he?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael stared at the table.<\/p>\n
I asked, \u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlmost four years.\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t breathe for a second.<\/p>\n
Four years.<\/p>\n
My 16-year-old daughter had made one reckless choice.<\/p>\n
And then she had spent four years trapped inside it.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did she get away?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine said Caleb was arrested after a fight outside a bar.<\/p>\n
Not because of Nora.<\/p>\n
Something unrelated.<\/p>\n
He had severely injured the other person in the fight.<\/p>\n
He was arrested, and Nora took the opportunity to run.<\/p>\n
She took the cash he had hidden, left the apartment, and got on a bus.<\/p>\n
She ended up near the shelter because another woman at the station told her about it.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was afraid he would be released and come after her,\u201d Elaine said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas he?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is he now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Nora hasn\u2019t seen him in years. She hasn\u2019t tried to find out what happened to him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael said, \u201cWhy didn\u2019t she call us then?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine looked at me.<\/p>\n
This was the part I already knew would hurt.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n
I started crying before she finished.<\/p>\n
Nora believed we would blame her because she had left voluntarily.<\/p>\n
She believed we would ask why she stayed.<\/p>\n
Why she didn\u2019t escape sooner.<\/p>\n
Why she trusted him.<\/p>\n
Why she didn\u2019t call.<\/p>\n
She believed too much time had passed.<\/p>\n
Then another year passed.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
Elaine helped Nora get her identification replaced.<\/p>\n
Helped her find counseling.<\/p>\n
Helped her get work.<\/p>\n
Eventually, Elaine left the shelter and opened the cafe.<\/p>\n
She offered Nora a job.<\/p>\n
Nora had been working there ever since.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about the cover-up?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Elaine looked down at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cNora gave it to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was clearing out old things about two years ago. She said she hated looking at it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I touched the edge of the yellow sun.<\/p>\n
My mother\u2019s stitches.<\/p>\n
Elaine\u2019s voice softened.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe said it was what she wore the day she ruined her life.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence broke something in me.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t ruin her life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t believe that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was 16, and she made a stupid decision.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t deserve four years of abuse because of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wiped my face.<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes she know we looked for her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t finish.<\/p>\n
Elaine did.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause knowing you\u2019re loved and believing you deserve to come back are not always the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked through the cafe window again.<\/p>\n
Nora was wiping down a table.<\/p>\n
My daughter was 24.<\/p>\n
I had missed eight birthdays.<\/p>\n
Graduations and milestones she never had.<\/p>\n
Jobs, apartments, bad days, good days, and everything.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to see her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou will, but first, let me talk to her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael leaned forward. \u201cWhat if she says no?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elaine was honest. \u201cThen you need to let her say no today.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hated that answer.<\/p>\n
But I understood it.<\/p>\n
We gave Elaine our hotel information.<\/p>\n
Then we left.<\/p>\n
Walking away from that cafe while Nora was alive inside it was one of the hardest things I have ever done.<\/p>\n
Michael cried in the hotel room.<\/p>\n
I had seen him cry before.<\/p>\n
Not like that.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if she disappears again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe won\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
We waited.<\/p>\n
At seven that evening, my phone rang.<\/p>\n
Elaine said, \u201cShe wants to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Twenty minutes later, we were in a quiet room behind the cafe.<\/p>\n
Then the door opened.<\/p>\n
Nora walked in.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, none of us moved.<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
Then Michael.<\/p>\n
Her face crumpled. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I crossed the room before I even knew I had moved.<\/p>\n
I hugged her.<\/p>\n
She went stiff for half a second.<\/p>\n
Then she collapsed against me.<\/p>\n
She was crying so hard I could barely understand her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m sorry. I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held her face. \u201cStop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were 16.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI left with him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did your best.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI should have come home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are safe now. That\u2019s all that matters.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me like she didn\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n
Michael wrapped both arms around us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe believe you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Nora looked at him. \u201cAll of it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll of it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t think I was stupid?\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael\u2019s voice broke.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think you were just 16.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was when she really fell apart.<\/p>\n
We talked for hours.<\/p>\n
Not enough to cover eight years. Not even close. But we started.<\/p>\n
We asked her to come home.<\/p>\n
She shook her head.<\/p>\n
At first, that hurt.<\/p>\n
Then she explained.<\/p>\n
She had an apartment, a job, friends, a therapist, and savings.<\/p>\n
She was planning to take community college classes the following year.<\/p>\n
She had spent years learning how to make decisions for herself after Caleb had controlled every part of her life.<\/p>\n
Going straight back into her childhood bedroom felt wrong.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you in my life,\u201d she said. \u201cI just don\u2019t know how yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took her hand. \u201cWe don\u2019t know either.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked frightened.<\/p>\n
I squeezed harder. \u201cBut we\u2019ll figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n
We stayed in town three extra days.<\/p>\n
Nora had breakfast with us the next morning. Then dinner.<\/p>\n
Then she walked with us along the boardwalk.<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t go onto the sand.<\/p>\n
Neither did I.<\/p>\n
Before we left, Elaine gave Nora the cover-up back.<\/p>\n
Nora stared at it for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then she handed it to me. \u201cYou keep it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cI don\u2019t want it for now, but it should stay in the family.\u201d<\/p>\n
I folded it carefully.<\/p>\n
The yellow sun was faded.<\/p>\n
Still crooked. Still there.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s been six months now.<\/p>\n
Nora calls twice a week.<\/p>\n
Sometimes more.<\/p>\n
Michael visits once a month.<\/p>\n
I probably text too often, but she hasn\u2019t complained yet.<\/p>\n
She enrolled in two classes.<\/p>\n
She still works at the cafe.<\/p>\n
She still sees Elaine.<\/p>\n
And she still has difficult days.<\/p>\n
So do we.<\/p>\n
There is no version of this where eight years disappear because we hugged in a back room and cried.<\/p>\n
We missed too much.<\/p>\n
She survived too much.<\/p>\n
But last week, Nora called me after class.<\/p>\n
She was laughing.<\/p>\n
She said, \u201cMom, I think I completely failed this quiz.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed too.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen welcome back to normal life.\u201d<\/p>\n
She went quiet.<\/p>\n
Then she said, \u201cI like normal.\u201d<\/p>\n
So do I.<\/p>\n
For years, I thought finding Nora would mean bringing her home.<\/p>\n
I understand now that I was wrong.<\/p>\n
She already has a home.<\/p>\n
What we are building is something different.<\/p>\n
A way back to each other.<\/p>\n
And for the first time in eight years, I don\u2019t have to wonder whether my daughter is alive.<\/p>\n
I know where she is.<\/p>\n
I know she is safe.<\/p>\n
And she finally knows that one terrible decision she made at 16 never meant she deserved everything that came after.<\/p>\n
Parents often say, \u201cYou can always come home.\u201d But how do you prove that when your child has spent years convinced they no longer deserve to?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My daughter vanished at 16 without her phone, her sandals, or any explanation. Eight years later, the first real clue I found was not a message or a police call, but a handmade piece of clothing on a stranger. My 16-year-old daughter, Nora, disappeared from a crowded beach eight years ago. She told me she […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4694,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4693","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"views":93,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4693","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4693"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4693\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4695,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4693\/revisions\/4695"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4694"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4693"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4693"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storydosee.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4693"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}