The florist girl paused.<\/p>\n
\u201cMa\u2019am\u2026 are you still there?\u201d<\/p>\n
I tightened my grip on the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. What name?\u201d<\/p>\n
She read it slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cEleanor Sowards.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n
That was my name.<\/p>\n
Not just my first name. My full name.<\/p>\n
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat can\u2019t be right,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Eleanor Sowards.\u201d<\/p>\n
The girl sounded confused. \u201cWell\u2026 that\u2019s the name on the card. And the delivery address is definitely not yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked through the front window toward the garage.<\/p>\n
Wilford was still out there.<\/p>\n
I could hear the faint scrape of metal and the occasional clank of his tools.<\/p>\n
Thirty-one years.<\/p>\n
Thirty-one years of knowing every habit, every expression, every little lie he told about why he was late coming home.<\/p>\n
I had never imagined there was another woman.<\/p>\n
I had never imagined there could be children.<\/p>\n
Especially twins.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you tell me anything else about the order?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
The florist hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cI probably shouldn\u2019t, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not asking for her information. I just need to understand why my name is on it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another pause.<\/p>\n
Then she said quietly, \u201cThe order was placed under Mr. Sowards\u2019 account.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart began pounding.<\/p>\n
\u201cSince when?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSince 2014.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the bouquet sitting beside me.<\/p>\n
Eleven Mother’s Days.<\/p>\n
Eleven years of flowers.<\/p>\n
Eleven years of someone receiving an $80 bouquet from my husband.<\/p>\n
And apparently believing it came from the father of her twins.<\/p>\n
I thanked the girl and hung up.<\/p>\n
Then I did something I hadn’t done in thirty-one years.<\/p>\n
I went into Wilford’s garage without knocking.<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
His face changed instantly when he saw the flowers in my hands.<\/p>\n
Not confusion.<\/p>\n
Not surprise.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
And that was when I knew.<\/p>\n
The flowers hadn’t been delivered to the wrong house.<\/p>\n
I had been living in the wrong marriage.<\/strong><\/p>\n Wilford slowly put down the wrench.<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n I held up the card.<\/p>\n \u201cWho are the twins?\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n That silence told me more than any confession could have.<\/p>\n I placed the bouquet on his workbench.<\/p>\n \u201cEleven years, Wilford.\u201d<\/p>\n His eyes dropped to the floor.<\/p>\n \u201cWho is she?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe isn’t what you think.\u201d<\/p>\n I almost laughed.<\/p>\n People always said that when the truth was exactly what you thought.<\/p>\n \u201cThen tell me what I’m supposed to think.\u201d<\/p>\n He rubbed both hands over his face.<\/p>\n \u201cThe flowers weren’t supposed to come here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at me sharply.<\/p>\n \u201cYou called the florist?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n His expression went pale.<\/p>\n \u201cThey told me about the standing order.\u201d<\/p>\n He sat down heavily on the old garage stool.<\/p>\n I had never seen him look so old.<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor, I can explain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen explain.\u201d<\/p>\n He stared at the concrete floor.<\/p>\n \u201cThe woman at that address is named Rebecca.\u201d<\/p>\n My chest tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the twins?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLily and Lucas.\u201d<\/p>\n I waited.<\/p>\n \u201cHow old are they?\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t answer immediately.<\/p>\n \u201cEleven.\u201d<\/p>\n The same year the flower order had started.<\/p>\n I took a step backward.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you’ve been sending flowers to another woman every Mother’s Day for eleven years?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt wasn’t like that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was it like?\u201d<\/p>\n He finally looked at me.<\/p>\n And there were tears in his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI never meant to lie to you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s a strange thing to say after thirty-one years of marriage.\u201d<\/p>\n He stood.<\/p>\n \u201cRebecca was my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n I froze.<\/p>\n \u201cYour daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cBefore I met you.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him, trying to make the pieces fit.<\/p>\n \u201cBut you said you never had children.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI said I didn’t have children with you.\u201d<\/p>\n My hands began to shake.<\/p>\n \u201cThen why didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n He opened his mouth.<\/p>\n Nothing came out.<\/p>\n Finally, he whispered:<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I was afraid you’d leave.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the Mother’s Day card again.<\/p>\n To Mom, from Daddy and the twins.<\/strong><\/p>\n Then I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.<\/p>\n There was handwriting underneath the printed message.<\/p>\n Three words.<\/p>\n We miss you.<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at those three words until they blurred.<\/p>\n \u201cWe miss you.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked back at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWho wrote that?\u201d<\/p>\n He swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cRebecca.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why does it say from Daddy and the twins<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n His face tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause Rebecca isn’t their mother.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt a strange chill move through me.<\/p>\n \u201cThen who is?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford didn’t answer.<\/p>\n I stepped closer.<\/p>\n \u201cWho is the twins’ mother?\u201d<\/p>\n He looked away.<\/p>\n \u201cHer name is Sarah.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is she?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe died.\u201d<\/p>\n The garage suddenly felt very quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEleven years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n The same year the flowers started.<\/p>\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n \u201cWilford, I’m trying to understand. You said Rebecca was your daughter. You said Sarah was the twins’ mother. So who are Lily and Lucas?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy grandchildren.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n Then the truth hit me.<\/p>\n The flowers weren’t being sent to another woman because Wilford had another family.<\/p>\n They were being sent to his daughter.<\/p>\n And the twins were his grandchildren.<\/p>\n But there was still one question that wouldn’t leave my mind.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy does the card say To Mom<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford closed his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause Rebecca isn’t their mother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen who is?\u201d<\/p>\n He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out an old photograph.<\/p>\n He handed it to me.<\/p>\n It showed a young woman holding two babies.<\/p>\n Beside her stood a much younger Wilford.<\/p>\n I looked at the woman’s face.<\/p>\n I didn’t recognize her.<\/p>\n But something about the photograph bothered me.<\/p>\n I turned it over.<\/p>\n Written on the back were five words:<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor, you deserve to know.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n My breath caught.<\/p>\n \u201cWho wrote this?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford’s voice was barely audible.<\/p>\n \u201cSarah.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked up.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen did she write it?\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n Instead, he walked to an old metal cabinet in the corner.<\/p>\n He unlocked it.<\/p>\n Inside was a small box covered in dust.<\/p>\n He placed it on the workbench.<\/p>\n \u201cI’ve kept this for eleven years.\u201d<\/p>\n He pushed it toward me.<\/p>\n \u201cSarah left it for you.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at the box.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy would a woman I’d never met leave something for me?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford looked at me with tears in his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause she knew something about our marriage that I never told you.\u201d<\/p>\n My fingers hovered over the box.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did she know?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford sat down again.<\/p>\n \u201cThat I wasn’t the man you thought I was.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou’re going to have to be more specific.\u201d<\/p>\n He gave a bitter little smile.<\/p>\n \u201cI met Sarah before I met you. We were young. We were going to get married.\u201d<\/p>\n I waited.<\/p>\n \u201cThen her family moved away. We lost touch. Years later, I met you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I thought the past was finished.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at the box.<\/p>\n \u201cIt wasn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n I opened it.<\/p>\n Inside were letters.<\/p>\n Dozens of them.<\/p>\n Some were addressed to Wilford. Others had my name written across the envelopes.<\/p>\n I picked up the first one.<\/p>\n The date was twelve years ago.<\/p>\n Before the twins were born.<\/p>\n Before the Mother’s Day flowers began.<\/p>\n I opened it carefully.<\/p>\n The first line made my heart stop.<\/p>\n \u201cDear Eleanor, you don’t know me, but I know who you are.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did she write to me?\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cI never read that letter.\u201d<\/p>\n I continued.<\/p>\n Sarah explained that she had discovered something about Wilford shortly after reconnecting with him.<\/p>\n Something involving money.<\/p>\n Something involving a house.<\/p>\n Something involving my name.<\/p>\n I looked up.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat money?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford’s face went white.<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor, please.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n I held the letter tighter.<\/p>\n \u201cYou’ve had eleven years to tell me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n He said nothing.<\/p>\n I reached for another envelope.<\/p>\n This one was marked:<\/p>\n OPEN ONLY IF WILFORD LIES TO YOU AGAIN.<\/strong><\/p>\n My hands went cold.<\/p>\n I opened it.<\/p>\n Inside was a single photograph.<\/p>\n It showed Wilford standing outside a courthouse.<\/p>\n Beside him was Sarah.<\/p>\n And in Sarah’s arms was a baby girl.<\/p>\n On the back, someone had written:<\/p>\n \u201cHe told you the twins were his first grandchildren. That’s not true.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n He covered his face with both hands.<\/p>\n Then he whispered something I never expected to hear.<\/p>\n \u201cThe twins aren’t my first grandchildren.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cThen whose children are they?\u201d<\/p>\n He slowly looked up.<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s what I’ve been trying to protect you from.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Wilford.\u201d<\/p>\n I placed the photograph on the table.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n He took a long breath.<\/p>\n \u201cThe twins are Rebecca’s children.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd Rebecca is your daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen who is their father?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford’s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s the part Sarah wanted you to discover yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n I opened the next envelope.<\/p>\n Inside was a birth certificate.<\/p>\n And under Father’s Name<\/strong>, I saw a name I recognized.<\/p>\n My own husband’s name.<\/p>\n But that wasn’t what made me gasp.<\/p>\n It was the date.<\/p>\n The twins had been born before Wilford and I were married.<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou didn’t just hide a daughter from me.\u201d<\/p>\n He said nothing.<\/p>\n \u201cYou hid an entire family.\u201d<\/p>\n Then I noticed one final envelope at the bottom of the box.<\/p>\n It had my name on it.<\/p>\n And beneath my name were four words:<\/p>\n \u201cThe twins know everything.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I couldn’t open the envelope.<\/p>\n Not yet.<\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do the twins know?\u201d<\/p>\n He stood very still.<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor, please let me explain before you read that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExplain what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat Sarah wasn’t Rebecca’s mother.\u201d<\/p>\n I frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n He swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cRebecca was adopted.\u201d<\/p>\n The room seemed to tilt.<\/p>\n \u201cYou told me she was your daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why was she adopted?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford looked toward the garage door.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause Sarah couldn’t raise her.\u201d<\/p>\n I slowly sat down.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was Rebecca’s biological father.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou gave your own daughter away?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought I was doing what was best.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd then you married me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd never told me.\u201d<\/p>\n He lowered his head.<\/p>\n \u201cI was ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the box.<\/p>\n \u201cThen why did Sarah write those letters?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause she wanted Rebecca to know the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the twins?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey eventually found out too.\u201d<\/p>\n I opened the final envelope.<\/p>\n Inside was a letter written in a shaky hand.<\/p>\n It wasn’t from Sarah.<\/p>\n It was from Rebecca.<\/p>\n The first sentence made my heart pound.<\/p>\n \u201cDear Eleanor, I’m sorry you had to find out this way.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I continued reading.<\/p>\n Rebecca explained that she had discovered her biological father eleven years earlier.<\/p>\n She had also discovered that Wilford had been married to me for years without telling me she existed.<\/p>\n But there was something else.<\/p>\n Something she said she had kept secret because she was afraid of destroying our marriage.<\/p>\n I reached the final paragraph.<\/p>\n \u201cThe flowers were never for me.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n He didn’t move.<\/p>\n I read the next line.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were for the woman who raised me.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n My eyes widened.<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford finally whispered her name.<\/p>\n \u201cMarianne.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew that name.<\/p>\n Everyone in town did.<\/p>\n She was the woman who had worked at my church for years.<\/p>\n The woman I had trusted.<\/p>\n The woman who had comforted me every Mother’s Day when I struggled with being childless.<\/p>\n I looked at Wilford in disbelief.<\/p>\n \u201cMarianne raised Rebecca?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n Then he said something that made my blood run cold.<\/p>\n \u201cThere’s one more thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe twins aren’t eleven.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n He pointed toward the letter.<\/p>\n \u201cRebecca lied about their age.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n His voice broke.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause she was trying to protect them from their real father.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked back at the letter.<\/p>\n At the very bottom, beneath Rebecca’s signature, was one final sentence:<\/p>\n \u201cAnd Eleanor\u2026 their father is someone you already know.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I read the sentence again.<\/p>\n Their father is someone you already know.<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n \u201cWilford, who is the twins’ father?\u201d<\/p>\n He sat down and stared at the floor.<\/p>\n \u201cI can’t tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n I stood.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter everything you’ve hidden from me, you don’t get to decide what I can handle.\u201d<\/p>\n He finally looked up.<\/p>\n \u201cIt’s your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n I froze.<\/p>\n \u201cMy brother?\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cThat isn’t possible.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEleanor\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy brother died twenty years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen stop playing games with me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wish I were.\u201d<\/p>\n He reached into the box and pulled out another document.<\/p>\n It was an old hospital record.<\/p>\n The name at the top was my brother’s.<\/p>\n The date was eleven years earlier.<\/p>\n My hands began trembling.<\/p>\n \u201cHe was alive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor a while.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat down again.<\/p>\n Wilford explained that my brother had returned to town after years away. He had met Rebecca, and they had become close.<\/p>\n Then came the twins.<\/p>\n But before they were born, my brother disappeared.<\/p>\n Rebecca had raised them with Marianne’s help.<\/p>\n Wilford had quietly paid their expenses.<\/p>\n And every Mother’s Day, he sent the flowers because Marianne had raised Rebecca after everyone else had walked away.<\/p>\n I looked at him.<\/p>\n \u201cSo why hide all this from me?\u201d<\/p>\n He looked devastated.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your brother asked me to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford reached into the box one final time.<\/p>\n There was a photograph.<\/p>\n My brother was standing beside a hospital bed.<\/p>\n In the bed was a woman.<\/p>\n I recognized her immediately.<\/p>\n Marianne.<\/p>\n But she looked much younger.<\/p>\n On the back of the photograph was a date.<\/p>\n And underneath it, a handwritten sentence:<\/p>\n \u201cIf Eleanor ever finds out, tell her the twins were never abandoned. They were protected.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cProtected from what?\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t answer.<\/p>\n Instead, he pointed toward the driveway.<\/p>\n A car had just pulled up.<\/p>\n Two teenagers stepped out.<\/p>\n A girl and a boy.<\/p>\n They looked almost identical.<\/p>\n They walked toward the porch.<\/p>\n The girl stopped when she saw me.<\/p>\n Her face went pale.<\/p>\n Then she looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cGrandpa?\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n The boy stepped forward.<\/p>\n \u201cIs she Eleanor?\u201d<\/p>\n Wilford nodded.<\/p>\n The girl looked directly into my eyes.<\/p>\n Then she said:<\/p>\n \u201cWe’ve been waiting eleven years to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n I stood completely still.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n She reached into her jacket and pulled out an old envelope.<\/p>\n \u201cThis was supposed to be given to you when you were ready.\u201d<\/p>\n She handed it to me.<\/p>\n I looked at the handwriting.<\/p>\n I knew it immediately.<\/p>\n It was my brother’s.<\/p>\n And the first line said:<\/p>\n \u201cDear Ellie, I’m sorry I disappeared. But there is something you must know about the day I left.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n I read my brother\u2019s letter with trembling hands.<\/p>\n He explained everything.<\/p>\n Eleven years earlier, he had discovered that he was seriously ill and might not have much time left. He was terrified that his illness would become a burden to Rebecca and the unborn twins.<\/p>\n So he asked Wilford to keep his condition secret.<\/p>\n He didn’t abandon his children.<\/p>\n He left because he believed disappearing would give them a better chance.<\/p>\n But before he died, he left instructions for Rebecca and the twins.<\/p>\n One day, when they were old enough, they were to tell me the truth.<\/p>\n The twins looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cWe’ve known about you our whole lives,\u201d the girl said. \u201cGrandpa Wilford showed us your photographs.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t you ever tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n He wiped his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your brother made me promise.\u201d<\/p>\n I was angry.<\/p>\n Thirty-one years of marriage had suddenly become a pile of secrets.<\/p>\n But beneath the anger was something else.<\/p>\n A strange feeling I couldn’t name.<\/p>\n The twins were standing in front of me.<\/p>\n My brother’s children.<\/p>\n My niece.<\/p>\n My nephew.<\/p>\n Family I never knew I had.<\/p>\n The girl suddenly hugged me.<\/p>\n I froze.<\/p>\n Then I hugged her back.<\/p>\n The boy joined us.<\/p>\n For the first time in thirty-one years, Mother’s Day didn’t feel like a reminder of what I had lost.<\/p>\n It felt like the beginning of something I never knew was waiting for me.<\/p>\n Later that evening, I returned to the porch.<\/p>\n The flowers were still there.<\/p>\n I picked up the card.<\/p>\n To Mom, from Daddy and the twins.<\/strong><\/p>\n I smiled sadly.<\/p>\n They had been delivered to the wrong address.<\/p>\n But perhaps they had arrived at exactly the right home.<\/p>\n I looked toward Wilford.<\/p>\n \u201cWe have a lot to talk about.\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you’re going to tell me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the twins standing beside him.<\/p>\n Then I added:<\/p>\n \u201cAfter that, we’re going to have dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n The girl smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cWith you?\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cWith your aunt.\u201d<\/p>\n She smiled even wider.<\/p>\n And for the first time in my life, the word family<\/strong> didn’t feel like something I had missed.<\/p>\n It felt like something I had finally found.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Part 1 The florist girl paused. \u201cMa\u2019am\u2026 are you still there?\u201d I tightened my grip on the phone. \u201cYes. What name?\u201d She read it slowly. \u201cEleanor Sowards.\u201d My stomach dropped. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4074,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[3,4,5],"class_list":["post-6855","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story-of-life","tag-family","tag-friend","tag-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6855"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6857,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6855\/revisions\/6857"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4074"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6855"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6855"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storylifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6855"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Part 2<\/h3>\n
Part 3<\/h3>\n
Part 4<\/h3>\n
Part 5<\/h3>\n
Part 6<\/h3>\n
The Ending<\/h3>\n