{"id":745,"date":"2026-04-15T17:22:33","date_gmt":"2026-04-15T17:22:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/?p=745"},"modified":"2026-04-15T17:22:34","modified_gmt":"2026-04-15T17:22:34","slug":"my-eight-year-old-kept-vanishing-in-his-treehouse-for-hours-until-i-heard-a-voice-that-sounded-like-my-late-husband-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/?p=745","title":{"rendered":"My Eight-Year-Old Kept Vanishing in His Treehouse for Hours \u2013 Until I Heard a Voice That Sounded Like My Late Husband"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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My eight-year-old stopped talking, disappeared into the treehouse my late husband Josh had built, and came back down with strict new rules: boys-only, no questions. Then one night, I heard him whisper into the dark like someone was answering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A month after my husband Josh died, our house still sounded like him. The hallway floorboard by the linen closet creaked under imagined boots, and the bathroom fan rattled like it was clearing its throat. I kept catching myself listening for his keys, like grief could be fooled by routine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Josh had built Sean a treehouse.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Sean took it the hardest. He was eight, and Josh had been his whole world. He stopped talking at breakfast and started picking at the skin around his nails until they bled. When I asked, \u201cDo you want to talk about Dad?\u201d he\u2019d shrug and stare at his cereal like it had offended him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Josh had built Sean a treehouse in the backyard right before he got sick. It wasn\u2019t fancy, but it was solid\u2014real wood, real nails, a little window cut out crooked because Josh said \u201ccharacter matters.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sometimes it was an hour, sometimes three.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

After the funeral, Sean started disappearing up there every day. At first, I let it happen. If the treehouse helped him feel close to Josh, fine. I could live with splinters and dirt tracked into the kitchen. But Sean didn\u2019t just sit up there. He stayed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d look out the window and see his sneakers on the ladder rungs, his skinny legs kicking as he climbed, and then he\u2019d vanish behind the plywood door. Sometimes it was an hour, sometimes three. Once, he carried a blanket and a pillow like he\u2019d moved out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cSean,\u201d I\u2019d call from the yard. \u201cCome down for dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His face would appear in the window, serious and stubborn. \u201cNot yet,\u201d he\u2019d say. \u201cI\u2019m busy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cBusy doing what?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s boys-only territory,\u201d he\u2019d tell me. \u201cYou\u2019re not allowed, Mom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

A few days later, his teacher called.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

The first time he said it, it almost sounded like Josh\u2014like a joke turned into a rule. Then Sean started coming inside with messages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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One morning he slid into his seat and announced, \u201cDad says you shouldn\u2019t be sad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My spoon paused. \u201cSweetie\u2026 Dad can\u2019t say things anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cYes, he can. He talks to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later, his teacher called. \u201cSean\u2019s grades have dropped,\u201d she said gently. \u201cHe\u2019s distracted. He keeps telling other kids his dad is still around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

“Dad told me today that he loves us so much.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

I thanked her and sat on the couch staring at nothing, the kind of numb that makes your bones feel hollow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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That afternoon Sean tossed his backpack on the floor. \u201cDad says don\u2019t be mad about my grades,\u201d he said, voice tight. \u201cHe says I\u2019m trying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I forced myself to breathe. \u201cWho told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean looked at me like the answer was obvious. \u201cDad. In the treehouse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, after I tucked him in, he sat up suddenly. \u201cMom, Dad told me today that he loves us so much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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No response.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

My throat closed. I smoothed his hair with shaking fingers. \u201cI know he loved you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cNo,\u201d Sean insisted. \u201cHe told me today. How can he be dead if I talk to him every day?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t have an answer that didn\u2019t sound like another loss. I kissed his forehead, turned off the light, and stood in the hallway until my hand went numb on the doorknob. From his room I heard him whisper, \u201cNight, Dad,\u201d like it was normal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next evening, Sean refused to come in. I called him, then called louder, worry sharpening into panic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cSean! Bedtime. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

No response.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Then I heard Josh.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I grabbed my shoes and went outside. The grass was damp. Lantern light flickered through the treehouse window like a small heartbeat. I was halfway to the ladder when I heard Sean\u2019s voice, soft and cracked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDad, I miss you so much,\u201d he said. \u201cI really, really need you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I froze with one hand on the ladder rail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I heard Josh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not a memory. Not an echo. Josh\u2019s voice\u2014clear, steady, close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The treehouse was warmer than it should\u2019ve been.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cI miss you too, buddy,\u201d it said. \u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My stomach turned over. I swallowed hard and climbed, hands moving like they belonged to someone else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom!\u201d Sean barked when my head rose above the floor. His cheeks were wet. \u201cStop! You\u2019re not allowed!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m your mother,\u201d I said. \u201cMove.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He spread his arms. \u201cIt\u2019s boys-only. Dad said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSean.\u201d My voice snapped. \u201cI heard that. I heard him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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It was coming from inside the treehouse.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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The treehouse was warmer than it should\u2019ve been and smelled like pine and sweat. A camping lantern sat on a crate, throwing deep shadows into the corners. I turned in a circle, searching for\u2026 something. Anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Josh\u2019s voice came again, calmer than it had any right to be. \u201cEm,\u201d it said, using the nickname only Josh used. \u201cPlease don\u2019t scare him. Just listen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart slammed. \u201cWho is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean dissolved into sobs. \u201cSee?\u201d he cried. \u201cDad\u2019s here! Stop being mean!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cWhoever you are, stop talking to my son.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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The sound wasn\u2019t coming from the air. It was coming from inside the treehouse, as if the walls were speaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I crouched and pressed my ear to the plywood, following the vibration until I found a loose plank in the back corner. I pried it up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behind it, taped to a beam, was a small black speaker with a wire snaking down through the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My hands shook as I pulled it free. \u201cSean,\u201d I said carefully, \u201cwhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. \u201cIt\u2019s\u2026 it\u2019s Dad,\u201d he whispered, but it didn\u2019t sound like he believed it anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Josh\u2019s voice crackled again. \u201cSean, it\u2019s okay. Do what your mom says.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at the speaker. \u201cThat\u2019s not him,\u201d I whispered, then raised my voice. \u201cWhoever you are, stop talking to my son.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cHe said you\u2019d ruin it if you came up.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Static.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then Josh\u2019s voice said, \u201cEm, please. I\u2019m trying to help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rage flashed hot. \u201cHelp?\u201d I hissed. \u201cYou\u2019re wearing my husband\u2019s voice like a costume.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean grabbed my arm. \u201cMom, don\u2019t make him mad,\u201d he pleaded. \u201cHe said you\u2019d ruin it if you came up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho told you that?\u201d I asked, softer despite myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean\u2019s lips trembled. \u201cUncle Mike,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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This wasn\u2019t a recording.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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My stomach dropped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike was Josh\u2019s friend from work\u2014the guy who\u2019d brought casserole after the funeral and hugged Sean too long at the graveside. He\u2019d sat at my kitchen table with shiny eyes and said, \u201cIf you need anything, I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen did Mike come here?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen you\u2019re at work,\u201d Sean said. \u201cHe brings snacks. He fixes stuff. He says it\u2019s a secret mission.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down. The wire led to a cheap device wedged under the floorboard. This wasn\u2019t a recording.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A phone rang near the side gate.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Someone was listening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMike,\u201d I said into the speaker, voice shaking, \u201cI know it\u2019s you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Silence. Then, a careful exhale through the line. \u201cI didn\u2019t want it to be like this,\u201d Josh\u2019s voice said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I climbed down with Sean clinging to my shirt. The backyard suddenly felt too open, too exposed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMike!\u201d I called. \u201cGet out of here!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A phone rang<\/a> near the side gate. Mike stepped into view, hands raised, face pale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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“I was trying to help.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cLaura,\u201d he said, voice trembling, \u201cplease don\u2019t call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at him. \u201cYou used my dead husband to talk to my child. Explain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSean was falling apart,\u201d he blurted. \u201cYou were falling apart. I thought if he heard Josh, he\u2019d feel safe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean\u2019s head snapped up. \u201cUncle Mike?\u201d he whispered. \u201cThat was you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike looked at him, pleading. \u201cBuddy, I was trying to help. It\u2019s Dad\u2019s voice. It\u2019s still Dad, in a way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

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That was when I noticed the manila envelope tucked under his arm.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Mike flinched. \u201cIt\u2019s an AI model,\u201d he admitted. \u201cJosh left voicemails, videos, those stupid voice notes\u2014 I trained it. I just needed Sean to calm down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd the \u2018boys-only\u2019 rule?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike\u2019s eyes slid away. \u201cYou would\u2019ve shut it down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was when I noticed the manila envelope tucked under his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Mike tightened his grip.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cJust paperwork,\u201d he said too fast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Josh and Mike had owned a small contracting business together. Josh\u2019s death had left accounts, equipment, and insurance\u2014an ugly pile. Mike had offered to \u201chandle the ugly parts,\u201d and I\u2019d been too numb to argue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGive it to me,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike tightened his grip. \u201cLaura, please. Josh would\u2019ve wanted this settled quietly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean made a broken sound. \u201cSo Dad wasn\u2019t talking to me,\u201d he whispered. \u201cHe\u2019s really gone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Sean started sobbing.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I pulled him to my side. \u201cHe\u2019s gone,\u201d I said quietly. \u201cAnd I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike stepped closer, his voice shifting sharper. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do this the hard way. Just sign what needs signing, and I\u2019ll stop. I\u2019ll take it down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My vision tunneled. \u201cSo that\u2019s what this is,\u201d I said. \u201cYou weren\u2019t comforting my kid. You were controlling him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean started sobbing, deep and betrayed. \u201cI just wanted Dad,\u201d he wailed into my shirt. \u201cI just wanted him!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know,\u201d I whispered, holding him tight. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cHe knew you might do something like this.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Up in the treehouse window, something white caught my eye\u2014paper jammed into a beam. I climbed back up and tugged it free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Josh\u2019s handwriting sprawled across the front: \u201cLaura\u2014if something feels wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside was a short note. Josh wrote that he didn\u2019t trust Mike completely, that money made him weird, and that if anyone tried to \u201cmove me\u201d using Josh\u2019s voice or Sean\u2019s grief, it wasn\u2019t love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The last line burned: \u201cProtect Sean. Don\u2019t let anyone use me against you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I climbed down and shoved the note at Mike. \u201cHe knew,\u201d I said, shaking. \u201cHe knew you might do something like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I dialed 911.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Mike\u2019s face drained. \u201cHe didn\u2019t mean\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cHe meant exactly what he wrote.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Mike lunged, desperate, reaching for the note and the speaker. The ladder shook. Sean screamed. For one awful second, I thought someone would fall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I yanked Sean behind me. \u201cGo inside!\u201d I shouted. \u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean hesitated, eyes wide\u2014then ran for the back door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The police arrived fast.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I dialed 911 with fingers that barely worked. \u201cSomeone is trespassing,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s been impersonating my dead husband to manipulate my son. Please send someone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike backed up, hands out. \u201cLaura, don\u2019t do this. You\u2019ll ruin everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou already ruined everything,\u201d I said, and my voice was steady enough to scare me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The police arrived fast, lights washing the street in red and blue. One officer separated Mike from me while another crouched to Sean\u2019s level in the doorway, speaking gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cDo you want to press charges?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Mike tried to explain. \u201cIt was grief support,\u201d he insisted. \u201cI wasn\u2019t hurting anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The officer\u2019s expression didn\u2019t change as I handed over the speaker, the device, and Josh\u2019s note.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d he said, \u201cdo you want to press charges?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My throat tightened, but I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After Mike was led to a cruiser, Sean stared out the window, shaking. \u201cIs he going to jail?\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I admitted. \u201cBut he\u2019s not coming near you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sean\u2019s chin wobbled.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, Sean refused to go to his room. He curled on the couch, knees to his chest, eyes red and hollow. I sat beside him and said, \u201cYou can be mad. You can be sad. You can be both.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He swallowed. \u201cWhat if I forget Dad\u2019s voice?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened my laptop and pulled up a video of Josh dancing badly in our kitchen while Sean laughed so hard he snorted. Josh looked into the camera and said, \u201cI love you, kiddo,\u201d in his real voice\u2014messy and warm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean\u2019s chin wobbled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cCan we go up there?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s him,\u201d I said softly. \u201cWe don\u2019t have to pretend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, I locked the treehouse ladder with a padlock. I didn\u2019t tear the treehouse down. It wasn\u2019t the enemy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lies were the enemy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A week later, Sean stood by the back door with his hands in his pockets. \u201cCan we go up there?\u201d he asked, cautious. \u201cTogether. No secrets.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hesitated, then nodded. \u201cOkay. But we do it our way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cI miss him.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Advertisement<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We climbed up with a blanket and a flashlight. Sean placed one of Josh\u2019s old work gloves on the shelf like it belonged there, then sat close enough that our knees bumped. The treehouse creaked in the wind, and for once it sounded like wood\u2014not ghosts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sean stared out the crooked window and whispered, \u201cI miss him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I leaned my head against his and let the tears come, quiet and honest. \u201cMe too,\u201d I said. \u201cEvery day.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My eight-year-old stopped talking, disappeared into the treehouse my late husband Josh had built, and came back down with strict new rules: boys-only, no questions. Then one… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":746,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-745","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/745","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=745"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/745\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":747,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/745\/revisions\/747"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/746"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=745"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=745"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chomeo.top\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=745"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}