{"id":10950,"date":"2026-08-15T00:43:25","date_gmt":"2026-08-15T00:43:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/?p=10950"},"modified":"2026-08-15T00:43:25","modified_gmt":"2026-08-15T00:43:25","slug":"after-my-fathers-funeral-his-hospice-nurse-said-he-asked-me-to-wait-until-today-before-telling-you-what-really-happened-the-night-your-daughter-disappeared","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/?p=10950","title":{"rendered":"After My Father\u2019s Funeral, His Hospice Nurse Said, \u201cHe Asked Me to Wait Until Today Before Telling You What Really Happened the Night Your Daughter Disappeared\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
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\n

<\/h1>\n

For five years, I believed I knew what happened to my daughter.<\/p>\n

I believed my father had made one terrible mistake.<\/p>\n

I believed he had looked away for a moment, and somehow my five-year-old daughter had vanished.<\/p>\n

Most of all, I believed my father when he told me he had done everything he could to find her.<\/p>\n

Then, five years later, at his funeral, his hospice nurse stopped me before I reached the parking lot.<\/p>\n

She grabbed my arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrystal.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned.<\/p>\n

Her face was pale.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father asked me to wait until today before telling you what really happened the night your daughter disappeared.\u201d<\/p>\n

My entire body went cold.<\/p>\n

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

She looked toward the church doors.<\/p>\n

Then back at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father left you a confession.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Behind us, mourners were slowly leaving the church.<\/p>\n

People were carrying flowers.<\/p>\n

Some were talking quietly about my father.<\/p>\n

What a good man he had been.<\/p>\n

How generous.<\/p>\n

How devoted.<\/p>\n

How much he had suffered during his final months.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t hear any of it anymore.<\/p>\n

All I could hear was the word confession.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of confession?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

The nurse reached into her purse and pulled out a thick white envelope.<\/p>\n

My name was written across the front in my father’s shaky handwriting.<\/p>\n

I stared at it.<\/p>\n

For six months, I had visited him almost every day while he was dying.<\/p>\n

Even when he couldn’t speak, he would reach for my hand.<\/p>\n

I had thought he wanted comfort.<\/p>\n

I had never imagined he was carrying a secret.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout Abigail?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

The nurse nodded.<\/p>\n

My fingers went numb.<\/p>\n

Five years earlier, my five-year-old daughter had disappeared from my father’s backyard.<\/p>\n

One minute she was there.<\/p>\n

The next, she was gone.<\/p>\n

And we had never found her.<\/p>\n

Until now, I had believed my father had simply looked away.<\/p>\n

But apparently, that wasn’t the truth.<\/p>\n

\n

My ex-husband, Hunter, was standing near the church gate.<\/p>\n

He had two cups of water in his hands.<\/p>\n

He saw my expression and immediately started walking toward me.<\/p>\n

I lifted one hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cStay close,\u201d I called. \u201cJust not here.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stopped.<\/p>\n

His eyes moved from my face to the envelope.<\/p>\n

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

I looked at the nurse.<\/p>\n

Then at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad lied.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter’s face drained of color.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAbigail.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared at the envelope.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don’t know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

The nurse lowered her voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe made me promise not to tell you while he was alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cAnd you agreed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told him he needed to tell you himself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down at the envelope.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad chose the one day when I couldn’t question him.\u201d<\/p>\n

The nurse swallowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAfraid of what?\u201d<\/p>\n

She hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf what the truth would do to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took the envelope.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt’s already done something to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

The burial came first.<\/p>\n

I stood beside my father’s grave listening to people talk about his kindness while a completely different version of him began forming inside my mind.<\/p>\n

At one point, Hunter reached for my hand.<\/p>\n

I almost pulled away.<\/p>\n

Instead, I let him hold it.<\/p>\n

Five years earlier, Hunter and I had been married.<\/p>\n

Then Abigail disappeared.<\/p>\n

The grief destroyed us.<\/p>\n

Neither of us knew how to survive it.<\/p>\n

Eventually, we stopped being husband and wife.<\/p>\n

We became two people carrying the same wound.<\/p>\n

After the final prayer, Hunter asked quietly:<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to drive?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\n

We went to my father’s house.<\/p>\n

It still smelled like cinnamon candy.<\/p>\n

His reading glasses were on the table.<\/p>\n

His jacket hung beside the door.<\/p>\n

Everything looked exactly as it had when he was alive.<\/p>\n

And suddenly, I hated that.<\/p>\n

Because I no longer knew what memories were real.<\/p>\n

Hunter stopped in the hallway.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me in the kitchen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to leave?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

He waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust stay.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked into the kitchen.<\/p>\n

That was where Abigail had eaten breakfast the morning she disappeared.<\/p>\n

A purple drawing was still attached to the refrigerator.<\/p>\n

A strange animal with six legs.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a horse,\u201d she’d told my father.<\/p>\n

Dad had laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen it’s the finest horse I’ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n

I used to love that memory.<\/p>\n

Now it hurt.<\/p>\n

I sat at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n

The envelope lay in front of me.<\/p>\n

Hunter stood near the doorway.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to open it with you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

My voice came out harsher than I intended.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m sorry,\u201d I whispered. \u201cJust not yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

I tore open the envelope.<\/p>\n

Three pages slid onto the table.<\/p>\n

The first sentence nearly stopped my heart.<\/p>\n

Crystal, I lied about where Abigail went.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I pushed my chair backward.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter stepped inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n

I held up my hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s my daughter too.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

I looked down at the page.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter stopped.<\/p>\n

I began reading.<\/p>\n

\n

My father wrote that the fence at the back of his property had been damaged for weeks.<\/p>\n

Behind it was an overgrown path leading toward a drainage channel.<\/p>\n

A nearby property owner had paid Dad to repair a separate safety barrier near the steepest section.<\/p>\n

Dad had accepted the money.<\/p>\n

He bought some supplies.<\/p>\n

But he never finished the repair.<\/p>\n

I stared at the page.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was supposed to fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter came closer.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cThe barrier.\u201d<\/p>\n

I continued reading.<\/p>\n

That afternoon, Dad received a phone call about a medical appointment he’d missed.<\/p>\n

While he was arguing on the phone, Abigail slipped through the damaged fence.<\/p>\n

He saw her.<\/p>\n

He saw the yellow ribbon in her hair.<\/p>\n

And he followed.<\/p>\n

Then he heard her call out.<\/p>\n

My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cHunter\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cHe knew where she went.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep reading.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father’s confession continued.<\/p>\n

He called Abigail’s name.<\/p>\n

He heard water below.<\/p>\n

Then he saw her yellow ribbon caught on the broken barrier.<\/p>\n

Instead of calling for help, he climbed down alone.<\/p>\n

He searched for nearly twenty minutes.<\/p>\n

And when he finally returned, I was already running through the yard screaming my daughter’s name.<\/p>\n

I remembered that moment.<\/p>\n

I remembered his shirt.<\/p>\n

Mud across the front.<\/p>\n

A tear near the sleeve.<\/p>\n

I’d asked him what happened.<\/p>\n

And he had pointed toward the lake.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe ran that way.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stopped reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe sent us the wrong way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter stared at me.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cHe knew where she was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Suddenly, I remembered everything.<\/p>\n

The police searching the shoreline.<\/p>\n

Volunteers walking through the woods.<\/p>\n

Helicopters circling above the lake.<\/p>\n

My father standing beside me, insisting:<\/p>\n

\u201cShe loved the water.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe probably went toward the lake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to search over there.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had trusted him.<\/p>\n

Everyone had.<\/p>\n

And while we searched the wrong direction, my daughter was somewhere else.<\/p>\n

I looked back at the confession.<\/p>\n

My father’s next words were worse.<\/p>\n

He knew rain was coming.<\/p>\n

He knew the drainage channel could flood.<\/p>\n

But he didn’t tell anyone.<\/p>\n

By that evening, the rain had started.<\/p>\n

The channel flooded.<\/p>\n

And still, he remained silent.<\/p>\n

Why?<\/p>\n

Because telling the truth would mean admitting that he had failed to repair the barrier.<\/p>\n

Admitting that he had known Abigail had gone through it.<\/p>\n

Admitting that he had spent nearly twenty minutes searching alone before anyone else even knew where she was.<\/p>\n

He had been afraid.<\/p>\n

Afraid of losing his reputation.<\/p>\n

Afraid of being blamed.<\/p>\n

Afraid of what I would think of him.<\/p>\n

So he lied.<\/p>\n

And I believed him.<\/p>\n

For five years.<\/p>\n

\n

My hands shook as I read the final paragraph.<\/p>\n

\u201cI called my silence love because cowardice was harder to admit.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n

\u201cI let you comfort me for five years when I should have been asking what my fear took from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I lowered the pages.<\/p>\n

Hunter took them from my hands.<\/p>\n

He read the final lines.<\/p>\n

Then he slammed his phone onto the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe sent us away from her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I flinched.<\/p>\n

\u201cHunter\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe watched us destroy ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice broke.<\/p>\n

\u201cOur marriage\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe did this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t add another broken thing to this house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter stopped.<\/p>\n

His hands were shaking.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you standing?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the pages.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m choosing what happens next.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stared at me.<\/p>\n

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

I folded the confession carefully.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe give this to the investigator.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cToday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked toward the backyard.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe search where he told everyone not to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

The investigator read my father’s confession twice.<\/p>\n

Then he looked up.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis changes the search area.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt changes everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to verify what he wrote.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen verify it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pointed toward the second page.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe drainage system runs beneath several streets. Some sections haven’t been opened in years.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cIf my father had told you Abigail went through that fence, would you have searched the channel that night?\u201d<\/p>\n

He hesitated.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore the rain?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gripped the edge of the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen reopen her case.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe’ll file the request.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t give me a process.\u201d<\/p>\n

I leaned forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me what happens today.\u201d<\/p>\n

He picked up his phone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’ll contact the search team. We’ll arrange access to the property.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the barrier?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe’ll investigate who owned it, who paid for the repair, and why it was never completed.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood.<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me before anyone enters that channel.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis may become public.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cMy daughter has been public for five years.\u201d<\/p>\n

He went silent.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father doesn’t need protection.\u201d<\/p>\n

I placed the confession on his desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbigail does.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Three days later, crews entered the drainage channel.<\/p>\n

Hunter stood beside me.<\/p>\n

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

We didn’t need to.<\/p>\n

An investigator approached.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe found the unfinished barrier.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart pounded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWas it broken?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust like Dad described?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then a man in a clean jacket pushed forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said the warning tape would hold until he came back after the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cYou knew it wasn’t finished?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe told me he’d return.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you check?\u201d<\/p>\n

The man looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis was a terrible accident.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cAn accident happened when Abigail crossed the fence.\u201d<\/p>\n

My voice hardened.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything after that was a choice.\u201d<\/p>\n

The investigator stepped between us.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrystal, I’ll call you as soon as we know anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon’t soften it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI won’t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

The call came the next afternoon.<\/p>\n

I was standing in my kitchen when my phone rang.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe recovered something,\u201d the investigator said.<\/p>\n

My heart stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it Abigail?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need you to come in and identify an item.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter drove me.<\/p>\n

This time, I didn’t ask him to stay outside.<\/p>\n

Inside the evidence room was a clear plastic bag.<\/p>\n

Something small and silver lay inside.<\/p>\n

A bracelet.<\/p>\n

With a tiny yellow star.<\/p>\n

My knees hit the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe wore that.\u201d<\/p>\n

The investigator nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you certain?\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at it.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe complained about the clasp.\u201d<\/p>\n

My voice trembled.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat morning, she held out her wrist and made me kiss the red mark it left.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hunter covered his mouth.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t look at him.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t look away from the bracelet either.<\/p>\n

They had also found a piece of yellow fabric trapped inside a sealed section of the channel.<\/p>\n

Together with the evidence and my father’s confession, investigators were able to establish what had happened.<\/p>\n

Abigail had entered the drainage channel that afternoon.<\/p>\n

The search teams had been looking in the wrong place because my father had sent them there.<\/p>\n

For five years.<\/p>\n

\n

The discovery didn’t give me my daughter back.<\/p>\n

It didn’t erase five birthdays.<\/p>\n

Five Christmases.<\/p>\n

Five years of unanswered questions.<\/p>\n

Five years of wondering whether she was somewhere alive.<\/p>\n

Five years of keeping her bedroom untouched.<\/p>\n

Five years of buying gifts I never knew whether she would ever open.<\/p>\n

The truth gave me something else.<\/p>\n

An answer.<\/p>\n

And sometimes an answer hurts almost as much as not knowing.<\/p>\n

Hunter stood beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo more apologies for things we didn’t do.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

He opened his arms.<\/p>\n

This time, I stepped into them.<\/p>\n

He held me without telling me everything would be okay.<\/p>\n

Because neither of us knew whether it would be.<\/p>\n

\n

Weeks later, the damaged barrier was replaced.<\/p>\n

My father’s confession became part of Abigail’s official record.<\/p>\n

The people responsible for the failed repairs were investigated.<\/p>\n

And questions were raised about why the barrier had been left unfinished.<\/p>\n

Eventually, reporters began asking how much could have changed if my father had told the truth that first night.<\/p>\n

I had no answer.<\/p>\n

Because I would never know.<\/p>\n

Before leaving the site, I went to my father’s grave.<\/p>\n

I stood there alone.<\/p>\n

\u201cI spent five years protecting you from your guilt,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

The wind moved through the trees.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou spent five years protecting yourself from my questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked down.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would have hated you if you’d told me.\u201d<\/p>\n

My voice cracked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI might never have forgiven you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I would have known where to look.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

Hunter was waiting near the new barrier.<\/p>\n

He held a yellow ribbon in his hand.<\/p>\n

He gave it to me.<\/p>\n

I tied it beside a small plaque bearing Abigail’s name.<\/p>\n

Hunter stood quietly beside me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don’t have to forgive him,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cThen why come here?\u201d<\/p>\n

I touched Abigail’s name.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause Dad made Abigail’s story about his fear.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at the ribbon moving in the wind.<\/p>\n

\u201cToday, it belongs to her again.\u201d<\/p>\n

The plaque was slightly crooked.<\/p>\n

Hunter reached toward it.<\/p>\n

I stopped him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’ve got it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I straightened it myself.<\/p>\n

Then I stepped back.<\/p>\n

For five years, my father had pointed everyone toward the lake.<\/p>\n

For five years, we followed his lie.<\/p>\n

But the truth had finally brought us to where Abigail had been all along.<\/p>\n

I will never forgive my father for stealing those five years from me.<\/p>\n

I will never know whether telling the truth sooner could have changed the outcome.<\/p>\n

But I know this:<\/p>\n

He was afraid.<\/p>\n

I was hopeful.<\/p>\n

And hope kept me searching long after everyone else had stopped.<\/p>\n

I touched the yellow ribbon one last time.<\/p>\n

Abigail was no longer a mystery.<\/p>\n

Her story was no longer my father’s secret.<\/p>\n

And this time, no one would be allowed to point us in the wrong direction again.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For five years, I believed I knew what happened to my daughter. I believed my father had made one terrible mistake. I believed he had looked away for a moment, and somehow my five-year-old daughter had vanished. Most of all, I believed my father when he told me he had done everything he could to…<\/p>\n

CONTINUE READING >>> “After My Father\u2019s Funeral, His Hospice Nurse Said, \u201cHe Asked Me to Wait Until Today Before Telling You What Really Happened the Night Your Daughter Disappeared\u201d”<\/span> »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10951,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10950","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10950","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10950"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10950\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10952,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10950\/revisions\/10952"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10951"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10950"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10950"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teknonoktasi.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10950"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}