{"id":20475,"date":"2026-09-08T12:13:18","date_gmt":"2026-09-08T12:13:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/?p=20475"},"modified":"2026-09-08T12:13:18","modified_gmt":"2026-09-08T12:13:18","slug":"my-son-asked-me-dad-why-does-mom-cry-in-the-car-every-day-and-change-her-clothes-before-coming-inside-i-thought-my-wife-was-cheating-on-me-so-one-morning-i-followed-her-and-fou","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/?p=20475","title":{"rendered":"My son asked me, \u201cDad, why does Mom cry in the car every day and change her clothes before coming inside?\u201d I thought my wife was ch:ea:ting on me, so one morning I followed her and found a bag containing used clothes, an unfamiliar perfume, and dementia medication."},"content":{"rendered":"<h3 data-path-to-node=\"3\">PART 1<\/h3>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone  wp-image-53765\" src=\"https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338-300x300.jpeg\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" srcset=\"https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338-300x300.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338-150x150.jpeg 150w, https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338-768x768.jpeg 768w, https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338-60x60.jpeg 60w, https:\/\/fanstopis.b-cdn.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/09\/Woman_and_child_crying_outside_202609071338.jpeg 1024w\" alt=\"\" width=\"713\" height=\"713\" \/><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"4\">\u201cDad\u2026 why does Mom cry in the car every day before coming into the house? And why does she change her clothes right there?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"4\">\n<p data-path-to-node=\"5\">Ivan froze with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"6\">\u201cWhat do you mean she changes her clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"7\">His eight-year-old son, Leo, kept eating his cereal as if he had asked an ordinary question.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"8\">\u201cI can see the driveway from my window. When Mom gets home, she sits there for a long time. Sometimes she covers her face. Then she takes out a bag, removes her blouse, puts on another one, and comes inside. She does it almost every day.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"9\">Ivan felt a tight knot coil in his stomach.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"10\">The night before, Jessi had arrived at seven-thirty. She kissed Leo, asked if he had finished his homework, and went straight to take a shower.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"11\">He had barely looked up from his computer.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"12\">Ever since the software firm where he worked closed its Phoenix offices, Ivan had been working remotely from home. Little by little, he had turned the living room into an office and his marriage into something resembling background noise.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"13\">Jessi would say, \u201cI\u2019m home.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"14\">He would answer, \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n<div class=\"code-block code-block-2\"><\/div>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"15\">And that was where many of their conversations ended.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"16\">That afternoon, when he heard Jessi\u2019s sedan pull into the driveway, Ivan quietly walked over to the window.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"17\">His wife parked. She didn\u2019t get out.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"18\">One minute passed. Then another.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"19\">He saw her lean forward over the steering wheel. Her shoulders began to shake.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"20\">She was crying.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"21\">Then she grabbed a plastic bag from the back seat and started changing her blouse right there inside the car.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"22\">Ivan stepped back before she could spot him.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"23\">When Jessi walked inside, he was already sitting at his computer.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"24\">\u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"25\">\u201cHi.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"26\">\u201cEverything okay?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"27\">Jessi offered a faint smile. \u201cYes. Just a lot of work.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"28\">That smile seemed far too perfect.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"29\">The next day, while she was showering, Ivan took her car keys. He found the bag beneath the passenger seat.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"30\">Inside was a navy-blue blouse, a T-shirt, and a light sweater. He brought them closer to his face. A heavy smell hit him: industrial disinfectant, dampness, medication\u2026 and underneath it all, a cheap floral perfume Jessi never wore.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"31\">At the bottom of the bag, he found the bottle:\u00a0<i data-path-to-node=\"31\" data-index-in-node=\"47\">\u201cSweet Rose Floral Spray.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"32\">Ivan stood completely motionless.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"33\">Over the next few days, he began noticing details he had previously ignored. Jessi left at eight in the morning, even though her office in Tempe was only twenty minutes away. Some days she returned at seven, other days closer to nine.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"34\">One night, he checked her phone. He hated himself for doing it.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"35\">There were no romantic messages. But there were frequent calls to a contact named \u201cWendy V.\u201d, usually very early in the morning or near the end of the afternoon.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"36\">He also found a notepad entry:<\/p>\n<ul data-path-to-node=\"37\">\n<li>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37,0,0\">\u201cDonepezil, once a day.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<li>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37,1,0\">\u201cMemantine, as directed.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<li>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37,2,0\">\u201cTurn off the gas.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<li>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37,3,0\">\u201cLeave food prepared.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<li>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"37,4,0\">\u201cChange the sheets.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"38\">He searched the medications online.\u00a0<i data-path-to-node=\"38\" data-index-in-node=\"36\">Treatment for severe dementia.<\/i><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"39\">None of it made sense. The hidden clothes. The unfamiliar perfume. The tears. The calls. The medication.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"40\">So one morning, he decided to follow her.<\/p>\n<div class=\"custom-post-pagination-wrap\">\n<div class=\"custom-nav-buttons\">\n<p data-path-to-node=\"41\">After dropping Leo off at school, he watched Jessi drive away. But she didn\u2019t take the route toward downtown. She drove south through Mesa.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"42\">She entered a neighborhood filled with old, sun-bleached apartment buildings, parked in front of one, and took a bag from the trunk.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"43\">Ivan waited inside his car.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"44\">One hour and ten minutes passed.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"45\">When Jessi finally came out, she was wearing a different blouse. She walked slowly, her head lowered. She got into the sedan, pulled out that cheap floral perfume, and sprayed it across her neck and arms before changing back into her work clothes.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"46\">Ivan felt something inside him snap.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"47\">That night, he waited for her in the kitchen with the lights off.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"48\">Jessi turned them on and jumped when she saw him. \u201cWhat are you doing sitting in the dark?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"49\">Ivan looked straight at her. \u201cI followed you today.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"50\">She said nothing.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"51\">\u201cI want to know who lives in that apartment, Jessi.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"52\">Jessi held his gaze for several long seconds. She didn\u2019t cry. She didn\u2019t defend herself.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"53\">She simply picked up her car keys.<\/p>\n<div class=\"code-block code-block-2\"><\/div>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"54\">\u201cCome with me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"55\">\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"56\">\u201cTo the place you\u2019ve been imagining I go to cheat on you.\u201d She opened the front door. \u201cOnce you walk inside, you\u2019ll understand why I change my clothes before coming home to you and Leo.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"57\">Ivan still didn\u2019t know that what he was about to find behind that door was far worse than an affair.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"59\">Three days later, the trap was set. Jessi had announced, with her usual hollow smile, that she had to \u201cdrive out to Scottsdale to view a commercial property\u201d and would be gone until the evening.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"60\">Ivan had smiled back, kissed her cheek, and told her to drive safe. Fifteen minutes after she pulled out of the driveway, Ivan was in his own car, staying three blocks behind her, tracking the GPS beacon he had discreetly attached to the rear axle of her sedan the night before.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"61\">She didn\u2019t go to the affluent, manicured streets of Scottsdale. The GPS dot on Ivan\u2019s dashboard led him forty-five minutes east, deep into the sun-baked, decaying sprawl of Mesa.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"62\">He parked two streets over from where her car finally stopped. The Arizona heat was oppressive, radiating off the cracked asphalt in shimmering waves. He walked toward a dilapidated, low-income apartment complex constructed of peeling beige stucco. The chain-link fence surrounding the property was rusted and sagging, and the drained swimming pool in the courtyard was filled with discarded furniture and windblown trash.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"63\"><i data-path-to-node=\"63\" data-index-in-node=\"0\">This was where her extra money was going.<\/i><\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"64\">He found her car parked outside Unit 114. The blinds were drawn tight, blocking out the glare of the desert sun.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"65\">Ivan stood before the chipped, hollow-core door, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He didn\u2019t knock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small lock-picking set he had ordered online days prior. His hands, usually steady as they typed lines of flawless code, trembled violently as he inserted the tension wrench. It took him two agonizing minutes, sweat stinging his eyes, before the cheap tumbler finally yielded with a soft click.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"66\">He turned the knob and pushed the door open.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"67\">The stench hit him instantly\u2014an invisible, physical wall.<\/p>\n<h3 data-path-to-node=\"69\">PART 2<\/h3>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"70\">It was a suffocating cocktail of stale urine, unwashed linens, rotting food, and the heavy, synthetic sweetness of cheap rose floral spray.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"71\">Ivan took a step into the dimly lit living room, clutching the doorframe as his stomach churned. The apartment was a nightmare of hoarding and neglect. Stacks of yellowed newspapers leaned precariously against peeling walls. Half-eaten TV dinners, covered in gray mold, sat on coffee tables alongside dozens of empty prescription bottles.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"72\">And in the center of the room, sitting in a stained armchair with a faded floral blanket draped over her knees, was an elderly woman.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"73\">Her hair was a tangled, matted bird\u2019s nest of silver. She was wearing a soiled nightgown and clutching a tattered rag doll to her chest.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"74\">Ivan froze. He knew that face.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"75\">It was a face he hadn\u2019t seen in twenty-five years\u2014not since his senior year of high school.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"76\">It was Wendy Vance.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"77\">His mother-in-law. The woman Jessi had told him had died in a tragic car accident long before they ever met.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"78\">\u201cJessi?\u201d the old woman rasped, her milky, cataract-clouded eyes darting toward the doorway. \u201cIs that you, little bird? Did you bring the sweet water?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"79\">Ivan couldn\u2019t move. He couldn\u2019t breathe. \u201cWendy\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"80\">The old woman blinked, frowning in confusion as she looked at him. Her face twisted into sudden, raw terror. \u201cNo! No, no, no! You aren\u2019t supposed to be here! Arthur will see you! He\u2019ll lock the cellar again! Don\u2019t let him take the baby!\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"81\">She began to rock violently back and forth, clutching the doll and weeping hysterically.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"82\">\u201cWendy, stop\u2014it\u2019s okay,\u201d a gentle voice called out from the small kitchenette.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"83\">Jessi stepped into the room holding a warm washcloth and a clean navy-blue blouse. She froze when she saw Ivan standing by the door.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"84\">The washcloth slipped from her fingers, hitting the linoleum floor with a wet thud.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"85\">For a long, agonizing minute, the only sound in the apartment was the elderly woman\u2019s rhythmic, paranoid sobbing.<\/p>\n<div class=\"custom-post-pagination-wrap\">\n<div class=\"custom-nav-buttons\">\n<p data-path-to-node=\"86\">\u201cYou said she was dead, Jessi,\u201d Ivan whispered, his voice cracking. \u201cYou told me your parents died in a crash when you were eighteen. I stood by your grandfather\u2019s grave with you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"87\">Jessi closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. The defensive wall she had carried for months collapsed, leaving her looking hollowed out and completely exhausted.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"88\">\u201cMy father didn\u2019t die in a car crash, Ivan,\u201d Jessi said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. \u201cAnd my mother didn\u2019t die either. My father was Arthur Vance.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"89\">Ivan felt the room tilt beneath his feet.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"90\">Arthur Vance had been a prominent Phoenix real estate developer whose name dominated local headlines twenty years ago\u2014until he was indicted for federal bank fraud, racketeering, and severe domestic abuse. He had died in a federal penitentiary fifteen years ago.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"91\">\u201cWhen Arthur\u2019s empire collapsed,\u201d Jessi continued, walking over to gently comfort her mother, \u201che didn\u2019t just ruin his investors. He spent thirty years physically and mentally breaking my mother. He locked her away, isolated her from her family, and beat her until she barely knew her own name. When the feds raided our house, I was seventeen. The state placed my mother in a long-term psychiatric facility because she was completely catatonic.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"92\">Jessi looked at Ivan, tears finally spilling over her lashes.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"93\">\u201cI was terrified, Ivan. When I met you in college, I saw a life of peace, safety, and order. I knew what people in Arizona thought of the Vance name. I knew that if your family knew who my father was, or that my mother was in a state asylum, you would look at me and see a damaged, dangerous girl from a cursed family.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"94\">\u201cSo you lied to me?\u201d Ivan asked, a deep ache swelling in his chest. \u201cFor ten years?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"95\">\u201cI buried it,\u201d Jessi wept. \u201cI paid the state facility using a private trust my aunt left me. For fifteen years, she was safe there. I visited her once a month under an assumed name. But six months ago, the state facility shut down due to budget cuts. They discharged her.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"96\">She gestured around the tiny, wretched apartment.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"97\">\u201cHer dementia had progressed so severely that no private memory care facility would take her without an astronomical deposit\u2014money we didn\u2019t have after your company closed its Phoenix branch. I couldn\u2019t put her in a state nursing home; the last time I tried, she tried to take her own life because the sterile walls reminded her of the cellar my father locked her in.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"98\">Ivan looked at his wife\u2014at the dark circles beneath her eyes, the thinness of her wrists, the shear exhaustion radiating from her posture.<\/p>\n<div class=\"code-block code-block-2\"><\/div>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"99\">\u201cSo you rented this place yourself,\u201d Ivan said, the horrifying realization dawning on him. \u201cYou\u2019ve been coming here twice a day\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"100\">\u201cEvery morning before work, and every evening before coming home to you and Leo,\u201d Jessi choked out. \u201cI clean her. I change her sheets. I cook her meals and make sure she takes her Donepezil. I spray that cheap rose perfume on myself because she panics if I don\u2019t smell like the flowers her grandmother used to grow.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"101\">She looked down at her hands, trembling.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"102\">\u201cAnd then I sit in the car outside our driveway and cry until I can wipe the smell of urine, bleach, and fear off my skin\u2026 because I couldn\u2019t bear the thought of bringing my father\u2019s nightmare into our home. I couldn\u2019t let Leo see his grandmother like this.\u201d<\/p>\n<h3 data-path-to-node=\"104\">EPILOGUE<\/h3>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"105\">Ivan stood in the center of the foul-smelling room, looking at the broken old woman rocking in her chair, and then at his wife\u2014a woman who had been carrying the weight of two separate lives entirely on her own shoulders to protect her family from a dead man\u2019s ghost.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"106\">He didn\u2019t yell. He didn\u2019t demand an explanation for the decade of lies.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"107\">Ivan walked across the room, picked up the wet washcloth from the floor, rinsed it in the sink, and handed it to Jessi.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"108\">Then he turned to the trembling old woman.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"109\">\u201cHi, Wendy,\u201d Ivan said gently, kneeling beside her chair so he was at eye level. \u201cMy name is Ivan. I\u2019m Jessi\u2019s husband.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"110\">Wendy stopped rocking, staring at him through her cloudy eyes. \u201cIvan\u2026? You\u2019re\u2026 you\u2019re the boy who codes?\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"111\">Ivan offered a small, soft smile, a tear slipping down his cheek. \u201cYeah. I\u2019m the boy who codes.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"112\">\u201cHe\u2019s safe, Mom,\u201d Jessi whispered, placing a hand on Ivan\u2019s shoulder. \u201cHe\u2019s family.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"113\">Wendy looked at Ivan for a long moment, then slowly reached out a frail, liver-spotted hand and patted his cheek. \u201cGood boy,\u201d she mumbled softly, her paranoia melting away into a rare moment of clarity. \u201cTake care of my little bird.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"114\">Two weeks later, the Mesa apartment was empty.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"115\">Ivan withdrew his remaining stock portfolio from his former tech firm, using the capital as a deposit for a top-tier private memory care residence nestled in the quiet, green hills of Flagstaff. It had gardens, warm sunlight, twenty-four-hour specialized nursing, and zero sterile white walls to remind Wendy of her past.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"116\">The morning they moved Wendy into her new room, the old woman sat by a sunlit window overlooking a bed of yellow roses, happily humming a quiet tune.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"117\">Jessi stood beside the window, watching her mother with a expression of peace Ivan hadn\u2019t seen on her face in years.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"118\">Ivan walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close against his chest.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"119\">\u201cShe\u2019s safe here, Jessi,\u201d he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. \u201cWe both are.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"120\">Jessi turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his chest, her shoulders relaxing completely as she let out a long, quiet sigh.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"121\">\u201cNo more bags in the trunk?\u201d she asked softly.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"122\">\u201cNo more bags,\u201d Ivan promised. \u201cNo more rose spray, no more changing in the driveway, and no more carrying the dark alone.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"123\">That evening, when they pulled their sedan into their driveway in Phoenix, the sun was setting behind the mountains, painting the desert sky in shades of violet and gold.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"124\">Jessi didn\u2019t sit in the car. She didn\u2019t cover her face, and she didn\u2019t reach for a plastic bag on the back seat.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"125\">Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt, took Ivan\u2019s hand, and walked through the front door together.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"126\">Eight-year-old Leo came running down the hallway, holding a drawing he had made at school. \u201cMom! Dad! Look at the rocket I drew!\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"127\">Jessi dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around her son, kissing his cheek as tears of pure, unburdened relief finally fell down her face.<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"128\">\u201cIt\u2019s beautiful, Leo,\u201d she smiled, her voice bright and clear. \u201cIt\u2019s the most beautiful thing I\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n<p data-path-to-node=\"129\">Ivan stood by the doorway, watching his wife and son laugh together in the bright, warm light of their living room, knowing that the secret buried for decades was finally where it belonged: in the past.<\/p>\n<div class=\"custom-post-pagination-wrap\">\n<div class=\"custom-nav-buttons\"><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>PART 1 \u201cDad\u2026 why does Mom cry in the car every day before coming into the house? And why does she change her clothes right there?\u201d Ivan froze with his &hellip; <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":20476,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-20475","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-new-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20475","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=20475"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20475\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20477,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20475\/revisions\/20477"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/20476"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=20475"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=20475"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/reallifedaily.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=20475"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}