{"id":1801,"date":"2026-09-06T06:17:27","date_gmt":"2026-09-06T06:17:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/?p=1801"},"modified":"2026-09-06T06:17:27","modified_gmt":"2026-09-06T06:17:27","slug":"my-mother-a-special-forces-commander-lucas-stop-making-things-up-the-moment-my-teacher-said-it-the-entire-classroom-burst-into-laughter-i-stood-at-the-front-holding-a-single-ph","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/?p=1801","title":{"rendered":"\u201cMy mother? A Special Forces commander? Lucas, stop making things up.\u201d The moment my teacher said it, the entire classroom burst into laughter. I stood at the front holding a single photograph of my mom while everyone whispered that I was lying. And the worst part was, I could have proved them wrong. But doing that would mean breaking the one rule my mother had taught me my whole life."},"content":{"rendered":"

PART 1: The Day My Teacher Called Me a Liar<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

My teacher called me a liar in front of the whole class because I said my mother commanded Special Forces.<\/p>\n

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

My name is\u00a0Ethan Carter<\/strong>, and my mother,\u00a0Colonel Rebecca Carter<\/strong>, served more than twenty years in the United States Army. She earned decorations I still didn\u2019t fully understand and led elite personnel on missions she almost never discussed. But at home, she was just Mom.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t hang medals in the living room.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t tell war stories at dinner.<\/p>\n

And she had one rule for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cNever use my career to make yourself look important.\u201d<\/p>\n

So when Northwood High announced Heroes\u2019 Week, I brought only one photograph. It showed Mom on a dusty military base in uniform, standing with other soldiers.<\/p>\n

Nothing dramatic.<\/p>\n

Just her.<\/p>\n

When it was my turn, I stood at the front of class and held up the picture.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy hero is my mom,\u201d I said. \u201cHer name is Rebecca Carter. She\u2019s a colonel in the United States Army, and she commanded a Special Forces unit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Harris stared at me.<\/p>\n

Then he smiled.<\/p>\n

Not kindly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother commanded Special Forces?\u201d<\/p>\n

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

He leaned against his desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cEthan, stop lying.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room erupted.<\/p>\n

Someone whispered, \u201cNo way.\u201d<\/p>\n

Another kid laughed. \u201cHis mom\u2019s probably in accounting.\u201d<\/p>\n

My face burned. I wanted to shout every piece of truth I knew, but I remembered what Mom once told me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen people refuse to believe your words, don\u2019t waste your dignity begging them. Let the truth arrive on its own.\u201d<\/p>\n

So I folded my paper, walked back to my desk, and sat down.<\/p>\n

For the rest of the morning, the whispers followed me.<\/p>\n

Liar.<\/p>\n

Fake.<\/p>\n

Attention seeker.<\/p>\n

Hours later, the school gathered in the auditorium for the Heroes\u2019 Week assembly. Parents, veterans, local officials, and senior military guests filled the front rows.<\/p>\n

Onstage sat\u00a0Admiral Thomas Blake<\/strong>, the guest Mr. Harris had talked about all week.<\/p>\n

The admiral opened the program and began reading names.<\/p>\n

Then he stopped.<\/p>\n

His eyes stayed on one line.<\/p>\n

Ethan Carter.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Something changed in his face.<\/p>\n

The auditorium doors opened behind us.<\/p>\n

Hundreds of heads turned.<\/p>\n

Standing there was my mother in full dress uniform.<\/p>\n

Silver eagles on her shoulders.<\/p>\n

Rows of decorations on her chest.<\/p>\n

And behind me, Mr. Harris whispered, \u201cNo\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

PART 2: The Truth Walks In<\/strong><\/h2>\n

Admiral Blake stood from the stage as Mom walked down the aisle.<\/p>\n

She moved the same way she always did\u2014steady, calm, never rushing, never performing.<\/p>\n

That morning, I had wanted proof. I wanted something huge to happen so everyone would know I had told the truth.<\/p>\n

But now that proof was walking toward me, I felt embarrassed by how badly I had wanted everyone else to feel ashamed.<\/p>\n

Admiral Blake stepped down and shook her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cRebecca.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThomas.\u201d<\/p>\n

They spoke like old colleagues.<\/p>\n

Then the admiral faced the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor those who haven\u2019t had the privilege, Colonel Rebecca Carter has served the United States Army for more than two decades in roles requiring unusual judgment, discipline, and leadership.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom gave him a look.<\/p>\n

He smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is probably more than she would prefer I say.\u201d<\/p>\n

The room relaxed slightly.<\/p>\n

Then he called my name.<\/p>\n

\u201cEthan Carter, would you join us?\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked to the stage, feeling every stare.<\/p>\n

The admiral said, \u201cEthan chose his mother as his hero. I believe he planned to say a few words today.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

She gave one small nod.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t mean say something impressive.<\/p>\n

It meant, you\u2019re okay.<\/p>\n

So I stepped to the microphone.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mom told me not to use her job to make myself important,\u201d I said. \u201cShe says what she does belongs to the people she does it with. Not to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nobody laughed now.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think she\u2019s my hero because she\u2019s a colonel. She\u2019s my hero because she calls when she says she will, leaves notes in my lunch before tests, teaches me practical things, and admits when she doesn\u2019t know something.\u201d<\/p>\n

I paused.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s rare for adults.\u201d<\/p>\n

This time, people laughed gently.<\/p>\n

Even the admiral.<\/p>\n

Mom finally smiled.<\/p>\n

The applause came slowly, then filled the room.<\/p>\n

Mom squeezed my shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood job,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

Those two words mattered more than the applause.<\/p>\n

PART 3: The Apology<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

After the assembly, Mr. Harris approached us.<\/p>\n

\u201cColonel Carter.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom turned. \u201cMr. Harris.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked surprised. \u201cYou know who I am?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEthan has mentioned you.\u201d<\/p>\n

That sentence could have meant anything.<\/p>\n

Mr. Harris understood that.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cEthan, I owe you an apology. I should not have accused you of lying, especially in front of the class.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had imagined this moment all day.<\/p>\n

In my head, I always said something brilliant\u2014something that made him feel exactly how I had felt.<\/p>\n

But standing there, none of those lines seemed useful.<\/p>\n

So I said, \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded. \u201cI understand if that isn\u2019t enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom spoke calmly.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn apology doesn\u2019t erase a mistake. But it tells us what someone intends to do after making one.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cEthan?\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew she was asking whether I wanted to say anything else.<\/p>\n

So I asked, \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you believe me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Harris could have said the photo looked ordinary or the claim sounded unusual.<\/p>\n

Instead, he answered honestly.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I thought I knew what someone like your mother would look like. I expected stories, medals, recognition\u2014something loud. When you didn\u2019t have those things, I decided the missing evidence meant the story was false.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make much sense,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he replied. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

He asked if he could apologize to the class the next day.<\/p>\n

Not make me stand.<\/p>\n

Not create a show.<\/p>\n

Just correct what happened.<\/p>\n

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

She did not answer for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

PART 4: Borrowed Importance<\/strong><\/h2>\n

That night, Mom and I made dinner.<\/p>\n

Important conversations in our house rarely began with, \u201cWe need to talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

They usually began with chopping vegetables.<\/p>\n

I told her everything: the photograph, Mr. Harris, the laughter, the whispers, and the kid who said she was probably in accounting.<\/p>\n

Mom stirred the pan.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere is nothing wrong with accounting.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cYou were offended on behalf of the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cDifferent problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

After dinner, I asked why she had never told me more about her career.<\/p>\n

She gave me an answer I didn\u2019t expect.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I wanted you to know me before you knew my r\u00e9sum\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n

She explained that titles become shortcuts. If people hear \u201ccolonel,\u201d they may decide she is impressive before knowing whether she is kind. If they hear \u201cSpecial Operations,\u201d they may invent stories that are not true.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted you to decide who I was from living with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then she used a phrase I remembered from the admiral.<\/p>\n

\u201cBorrowed importance.\u201d<\/p>\n

She told me some people confuse being close to something admired\u2014rank, money, fame, a family name\u2014with earning it themselves.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you used my rank every time someone challenged you,\u201d she said, \u201cyou might start thinking my career made you right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it did make me right today.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe facts made you right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Later, she brought out a cardboard box from the top shelf of her closet. Inside were ribbons, certificates, photographs, coins, patches, and old letters.<\/p>\n

It looked like a junk drawer.<\/p>\n

She called it organized.<\/p>\n

Then I found a photograph of Mom standing beside a man named\u00a0Major Daniel Reed<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

Underneath it was an envelope.<\/p>\n

Across the front were three words:<\/p>\n

FOR REBECCA CARTER.<\/strong><\/p>\n

When I asked to read it, Mom shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat one isn\u2019t mine to share.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PART 5: The Man From the Photograph<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

The next day, Mr. Harris apologized to the class.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t make a speech. He didn\u2019t ask anyone to clap. He simply said he had accused me without evidence and set the wrong example.<\/p>\n

I appreciated that more than I expected.<\/p>\n

A week later, he asked if Mom would speak to the class about leadership and privacy.<\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s first answer was no.<\/p>\n

Three days later, she agreed\u2014with conditions.<\/p>\n

No uniform.<\/p>\n

No medals.<\/p>\n

No specific operations.<\/p>\n

No long introduction.<\/p>\n

She arrived wearing dark pants, a blue blouse, and the old watch she always wore. Half the class looked disappointed because they expected the woman from the auditorium.<\/p>\n

Instead, they got my mother.<\/p>\n

Which was the point.<\/p>\n

The questions started awkwardly, then became better.<\/p>\n

Were you ever scared?<\/p>\n

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

Why act anyway?<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause being afraid and being unable to act are different things.\u201d<\/p>\n

How do you know who to trust?<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust is built in boring moments. Ordinary consistency matters more than dramatic promises.\u201d<\/p>\n

After school, we walked to the parking lot.<\/p>\n

Then someone called her name.<\/p>\n

\u201cRebecca Carter?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mom froze.<\/p>\n

A man stood near the visitor spaces, gray at the temples, holding a folded paper.<\/p>\n

I recognized him from the photograph.<\/p>\n

Major Daniel Reed.<\/p>\n

Older now.<\/p>\n

But unmistakable.<\/p>\n

Mom closed the car door slowly.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaniel.\u201d<\/p>\n

He gave a cautious smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s been a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThirteen years,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

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

\u201cYou must be Ethan.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he said something that made the parking lot feel suddenly silent.<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew your father.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PART 6: The Box of Letters<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

Daniel had found something while clearing his late brother\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

A box.<\/p>\n

Letters, mostly.<\/p>\n

My father\u2019s letters.<\/p>\n

Dad had died when I was seven from a heart condition no one had caught in time. He existed in our house through photographs, stories, and habits\u2014like the coffee Mom still bought even though she didn\u2019t drink it.<\/p>\n

Daniel brought the box the next day at noon.<\/p>\n

Mom made coffee first because apparently family secrets required proper beverages.<\/p>\n

The gray plastic storage box had a cracked blue lid. On one side, in faded marker, was my father\u2019s name.<\/p>\n

David.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Daniel explained that Dad had asked him to keep the letters.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor the right time,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you decided today was the right time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Daniel admitted. \u201cI found them six months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

He had waited.<\/p>\n

Mom did not forgive that immediately.<\/p>\n

But she opened the box.<\/p>\n

The first letters were ordinary: me refusing peas, the washing machine breaking, Dad learning to braid hair, buying too much bread when Mom was deployed.<\/p>\n

They were not dramatic secrets.<\/p>\n

They were life.<\/p>\n

Then Mom found a letter about a decision I never knew existed.<\/p>\n

She had almost left the Army when I was five.<\/p>\n

Dad had written:<\/p>\n

Sarah thinks I want her to leave. I don\u2019t. I want her to stop believing she has to choose between being good at her work and being good at home. Those are not the same question.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Mom stared at the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad understood you,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

PART 7: My Father\u2019s Rule<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

The box held more letters.<\/p>\n

Some were addressed to Daniel, and those he read aloud.<\/p>\n

Dad had asked him how to support a woman who believed responsibility meant never needing help. He asked how to know when Mom was exhausted, especially when she insisted she was fine.<\/p>\n

At one point, Daniel said softly, \u201cDavid admired you. But he worried you believed love had to be earned the same way respect was.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

For once, there was no next step.<\/p>\n

Just something true she had never fully considered.<\/p>\n

Later, Mom found a thicker envelope marked:<\/p>\n

For later.<\/strong><\/p>\n

One page was for me.<\/p>\n

The first line read:<\/p>\n

For Ethan, when he is old enough to understand that parents are mostly guessing.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I smiled because that sounded like Dad.<\/p>\n

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

The letter was not a goodbye. He had not known he would die. He wrote about hoping I would work hard, care about something real, and learn not to confuse admiration with values.<\/p>\n

Then one line made my throat tighten.<\/p>\n

If you ever feel pressured to prove who you are by telling people who your parents are, don\u2019t. Borrowed light still leaves you in the dark when the person carrying it walks away.<\/strong><\/p>\n

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

\u201cDid your rule come from Dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he wrote almost the same thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

\u201cThen where did you get it?\u201d<\/p>\n

She was quiet for a long time.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom making the opposite mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PART 8: The Trip Dad Never Took<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

Mom admitted that when she was young, her father\u2019s reputation in the military world opened doors for her.<\/p>\n

At first, she liked it.<\/p>\n

Then an instructor told her, \u201cYour father\u2019s record got you noticed. Your record will determine whether anyone keeps looking.\u201d<\/p>\n

That stayed with her.<\/p>\n

So when she raised me, she wanted me to build something of my own.<\/p>\n

That night, Daniel left after apologizing for keeping the letters too long. Mom said he had kept Dad\u2019s promise too literally.<\/p>\n

Then she hugged him.<\/p>\n

It was stiff at first.<\/p>\n

Then real.<\/p>\n

Later, Mom and I returned to the box alone.<\/p>\n

One letter mentioned a trip Dad had wanted to take to Maine. A lighthouse, a harbor, a bookstore, a small inn.<\/p>\n

Nothing extraordinary.<\/p>\n

Just a trip they thought they would take later.<\/p>\n

But later had run out.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe could go,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Mom almost laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cLucas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSchool. Work. Planning.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou love planning.\u201d<\/p>\n

Months later, I found plane reservations on the kitchen table.<\/p>\n

Boston first.<\/p>\n

Then Maine.<\/p>\n

At the bottom was a reservation at the same coastal town Dad had written about.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you okay going without Dad?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Mom paused.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I think I\u2019m okay going because of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a difference.<\/p>\n

I understood it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PART 9: The Quiet Heroes<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

In March, we went to Maine.<\/p>\n

The coast was colder than Dad probably imagined. Mom complained about the wind, and I reminded her she had once jumped from an airplane.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was also unpleasant,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

We visited the lighthouse, the harbor, and the bookstore, which had moved two streets over but still existed.<\/p>\n

At the inn, Mom and I stood on a balcony facing the water. She carried Dad\u2019s letter in her coat pocket.<\/p>\n

I asked if she wished he had given her the letters himself.<\/p>\n

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

If she wished Daniel had brought them sooner.<\/p>\n

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

If she wished she had left the Army.<\/p>\n

This time, she took longer.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said finally. \u201cBecause I spent years thinking the choice was between family and work. David understood before I did that the real choice was how honestly I would live inside both.\u201d<\/p>\n

Months later, Heroes\u2019 Week returned to Northwood High with a new theme:<\/p>\n

Quiet Influence.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Students chose neighbors, grandparents, coaches, siblings, teachers\u2014people who changed their lives through ordinary actions.<\/p>\n

No one needed medals.<\/p>\n

No one needed an extraordinary biography.<\/p>\n

Mr. Harris said last year had reminded him that people can become so interested in impressive stories that they stop listening to the person telling them.<\/p>\n

Mom sat beside me in jeans and an old Army sweatshirt, drinking terrible auditorium coffee.<\/p>\n

No uniform.<\/p>\n

No admiral.<\/p>\n

No decorations.<\/p>\n

And somehow, that felt exactly right.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PART 10: What Stayed With Me<\/strong><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

After the assembly, I looked at the same photograph I had brought the year before.<\/p>\n

Dusty base.<\/p>\n

Combat uniform.<\/p>\n

Soldiers around Mom.<\/p>\n

For a long time, I thought the picture proved something.<\/p>\n

That my mother was important.<\/p>\n

That I told the truth.<\/p>\n

That Mr. Harris was wrong.<\/p>\n

Now I understood it differently.<\/p>\n

A photograph can prove where someone stood for one second.<\/p>\n

It cannot show who they are.<\/p>\n

It cannot show lunch notes, late phone calls, nervous cookbook organizing, or a father writing letters because he loved quietly.<\/p>\n

It cannot show an old friend keeping a promise too long.<\/p>\n

It cannot show a teacher turning an apology into a changed classroom.<\/p>\n

It cannot show a family learning that privacy and honesty are not opposites.<\/p>\n

You need time for that.<\/p>\n

Ordinary days.<\/p>\n

Conversations.<\/p>\n

Mistakes.<\/p>\n

Second chances.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, a cardboard box full of letters.<\/p>\n

Mom opened the driver\u2019s door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou coming?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn a second.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slipped the photograph into my backpack.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need to hold it up anymore.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t need anyone to believe me.<\/p>\n

The truth had arrived on its own.<\/p>\n

But what stayed with me was not the moment the auditorium went silent.<\/p>\n

It was what came afterward.<\/p>\n

The apology that changed a teacher.<\/p>\n

The letters that changed how I understood my parents.<\/p>\n

The trip my father never took but somehow still helped us make.<\/p>\n

And the rule I once thought was only about staying humble.<\/p>\n

Never use someone else\u2019s career to make yourself important.<\/p>\n

Years later, I understood it differently.<\/p>\n

Mom had not been telling me to make myself smaller.<\/p>\n

She had been telling me to build something that was mine.<\/p>\n

And for the first time, I understood why she never needed medals on the wall.<\/p>\n

She already knew who she was.<\/p>\n

Now it was my turn.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART 1: The Day My Teacher Called Me a Liar   My teacher called me a liar in front of the whole class because I said my mother commanded Special Forces. My name is\u00a0Ethan Carter, and my mother,\u00a0Colonel Rebecca Carter, served more than twenty years in the United States Army. She earned decorations I still…<\/p>\n

Read More “\u201cMy mother? A Special Forces commander? Lucas, stop making things up.\u201d The moment my teacher said it, the entire classroom burst into laughter. I stood at the front holding a single photograph of my mom while everyone whispered that I was lying. And the worst part was, I could have proved them wrong. But doing that would mean breaking the one rule my mother had taught me my whole life.”<\/span> »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1782,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1801","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1801"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1802,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801\/revisions\/1802"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1782"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1801"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1801"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bestofdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1801"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}