{"id":9556,"date":"2026-09-27T13:17:52","date_gmt":"2026-09-27T13:17:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/?p=9556"},"modified":"2026-09-27T13:17:52","modified_gmt":"2026-09-27T13:17:52","slug":"my-neighbor-ruined-the-roses-i-had-carefully-grown-for-15-years-then-just-days-before-the-garden-club-judging-strange-boxes-appeared-where-they-once-stood","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/?p=9556","title":{"rendered":"My Neighbor Ruined the Roses I Had Carefully Grown for 15 Years\u2014Then, Just Days Before the Garden Club Judging, Strange Boxes Appeared Where They Once Stood"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Diane\u2019s roses had endured harsh weather, illness, pests, and years of mistakes before she finally learned how to care for them properly. But on the night before the neighborhood garden club\u2019s annual judging, all of that work seemed to disappear. Then, a few days later, several mysterious wooden boxes appeared beside the ruined flower bed, revealing a story Diane had never known.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My name is Diane, and for 15 years, I had grown the same collection of rose bushes beside my home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I originally planted them after my divorce because I needed something positive to focus on. I wanted something that rewarded patience rather than arguments, disappointment, or circumstances I couldn\u2019t change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During the first year, only some of the bushes produced flowers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the second year, I had finally learned how to prune them correctly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Five years later, people walking through the neighborhood would often slow down to admire the garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a decade, those roses had become one of the greatest accomplishments of my adult life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every June, our neighborhood garden club organized its annual garden competition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The prize wasn\u2019t anything extraordinary\u2014a ribbon, a small engraved plaque, and a little neighborhood bragging rights. Everyone acted as though they didn\u2019t care very much, while secretly wanting to win.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For three years, my neighbor Frank had entered the competition against me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And for three years, I had won.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank never completely concealed his disappointment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOne day, Diane,\u201d he would say with a smile that never quite looked genuine, \u201cyou\u2019re going to lose that winning streak.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I would usually laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen maybe you should spend more time looking after those hydrangeas.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the time, I thought our rivalry was harmless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That year, however, my roses were the best they had ever looked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All twelve bushes were filled with healthy blooms. There were deep red flowers, soft pink ones, pale yellow roses, and an old coral-colored variety I had carefully preserved since shortly after my divorce.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The judging was scheduled for Saturday morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On Friday evening, I went outside in my robe to give the roses one last watering before bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I walked around the side of the house, I stopped dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a second, I couldn\u2019t make sense of what I was seeing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The flower bed looked strangely empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I saw the branches lying across the mulch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every single rose bush had been cut down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All twelve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaves, petals, and broken branches were scattered everywhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This wasn\u2019t normal pruning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Someone had brutally hacked the plants almost down to their bases.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I dropped the hose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped into the flower bed and picked up one of the coral-colored branches. It was thick and hard from years of growth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fifteen years of work had been destroyed in what probably took someone less than half an hour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood there in disbelief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I looked toward Frank\u2019s house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His downstairs windows were dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

I had only suspicion, anger, and three years of comments about wanting to beat me in the competition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suspicion wasn\u2019t enough to accuse someone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still, I contacted the police.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An officer came the following morning, inspected the damage, asked whether I had seen anyone, and wrote down Frank\u2019s name after I explained our history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There wasn\u2019t much more they could do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The garden competition went ahead without me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank didn\u2019t win either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another neighbor received the prize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By then, I honestly didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the next few days, I began removing the worst of the damaged branches and examining the remaining stumps. I wanted to determine which plants might survive and where I would eventually need to replant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some of the cuts were so severe that I assumed most of the roses were finished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Whenever I looked at the ruined flower bed, I felt almost silly for being so devastated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were plants.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But they had never felt like just plants to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had purchased my first two roses shortly after my husband left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For years, I had believed my marriage was the structure holding my entire life together. When it ended, I felt as though everything I had built could disappear simply because another person chose to walk away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The roses were the first thing I built afterward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now someone had destroyed them overnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Three days later, I stepped outside to get the mail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I stopped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Several wooden boxes had been placed in a neat row along the exact area where my roses had stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was certain they hadn\u2019t been there the previous evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no message attached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked toward the first box and slowly lifted the lid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside were dozens of envelopes, some tied together with an old ribbon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Underneath them were photographs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked up the first picture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It showed my garden years earlier, when the yellow roses were still small and the flower bed had a simple wooden border.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I picked up another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My garden again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then another photograph showed me kneeling beside the roses in an old blue shirt, apparently unaware that someone was photographing me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A strange feeling came over me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every picture seemed to have been taken from the same direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank\u2019s house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the second box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It contained more photographs, a small notebook, and several handwritten letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Near the bottom was a picture of Carol, Frank\u2019s wife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was sitting near a window, looking thin and tired, wearing a cardigan. But she was smiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Behind her, visible through the glass, were my roses in full bloom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I recognized the handwriting immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol had occasionally sent me Christmas cards before she died.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had never been particularly close. We exchanged greetings, waved when we saw each other, and occasionally chatted about neighborhood matters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down on the edge of the flower bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol had been gone for several years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened the first letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My name was written across the front.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDiane,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You probably don\u2019t realize it, but your roses are the first thing I look for every morning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stopped reading.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The letter was almost seven years old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked across the lawn toward Frank\u2019s house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol explained that her illness had forced her to spend most of her time indoors. Some days, she barely had enough energy to walk beyond the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From one particular window, she could see the side of my house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And my roses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wrote about waiting for the first buds to appear each spring.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She knew when the pink bushes opened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She remembered the yellow rose that always bloomed later than the others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She even remembered the year I struggled with black spot and nearly removed two of the bushes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened another letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol explained that when she became too weak to stand at the window, Frank began taking photographs of the garden for her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, the photographs made sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They weren’t pictures of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were pictures for Carol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I spent hours going through the letters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of them joked that she probably knew more about my garden than I realized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another explained that watching something bloom outside made her feel as though the world was continuing, even while her own life was becoming smaller.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I covered my mouth as tears filled my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All those years, I had thought of the garden as something entirely personal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It represented my recovery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My independence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My proof that life could begin again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had never known that someone next door had been looking at those same flowers and using them as a source of comfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The discovery should have made me feel calmer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, it made me even more upset.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Carol had loved my roses so much, why had Frank spent years acting as though he couldn’t stand them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And why had her letters appeared beside the place where someone had just destroyed them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I brought the boxes inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That evening, I spread the photographs across my dining-room table in chronological order.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I noticed something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The oldest photographs went back many years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank\u2019s involvement in the garden competition came much later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hadn\u2019t seriously competed against me until after Carol died.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The timing was impossible to overlook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following morning, I walked across the lawn and knocked on Frank\u2019s door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It took almost a minute before he answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked exhausted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou left the boxes,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes moved toward them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked toward my house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you read them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome of them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen you know they belonged to Carol.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know she loved my roses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His face tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hesitated before asking, \u201cIs that why you started gardening?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank leaned against the doorframe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For the first time in years, he didn’t look like my competitor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He simply looked like an aging man carrying something heavy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAfter she died, the house became unbearably quiet,\u201d he said. \u201cWorking outside gave me something to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He told me that Carol had always been the gardener in their marriage. He had mostly handled the lawn and hedges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After she died, he started spending more time outside because it was easier than sitting indoors surrounded by memories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first, entering the garden competition had been almost a joke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then it became important to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI thought she would have liked seeing me finally take an interest in flowers,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo why did beating me become so important?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t really know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t satisfied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou spent three years telling me you were going to beat me. Now my roses are destroyed, and your wife\u2019s letters are sitting beside them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His jaw tightened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said I left the boxes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou still haven\u2019t answered me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He closed his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t talk about this right now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou apparently had no trouble doing something three nights ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes opened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For a moment, I thought he was finally going to admit what he had done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, he said quietly, \u201cRead the letters, Diane.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he closed the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I went home angry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I did what he told me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The later letters were written directly to me, even though Carol had never actually sent them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That confused me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why would she write so many letters and never deliver them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of them explained.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol wrote that she felt embarrassed about becoming emotional over flowers growing in someone else\u2019s yard. She intended to thank me once she felt better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she wrote:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere will be another spring. I\u2019ll tell her then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was never another spring for Carol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I cried when I read that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I discovered the final envelope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My name was written across it in shaky handwriting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside was a short letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carol thanked me for something I had never known I was giving her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wrote that everyone around her kept talking about things ending\u2014treatments ending, good days ending, and eventually, time itself running out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The roses were different.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They disappeared every winter, yet somehow returned again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the bottom of the letter, she wrote:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI hope Diane never stops growing them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read those words again and again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I finally understood why Frank had struggled to answer me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I carried the letter back across the lawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Frank opened his door, I held it toward him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you read this before leaving the boxes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His expression changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cThen why did you keep them for all these years?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI found them after Carol died. I knew they were meant for you, but they were some of the last things she ever wrote. I couldn’t bring myself to give them away. I kept telling myself I would bring them to you someday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked toward my destroyed garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAfter Friday night, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. For three days, I kept taking them out and putting them away. I couldn’t make myself knock on your door, so I left the boxes where the roses had been. I thought you deserved to know what they meant to Carol before I told you everything else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cDid you destroy my roses?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hesitated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stepped closer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFrank. Did you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

The word was almost a whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My fingers tightened around Carol\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He rubbed his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI found that photograph of her sitting by the window Friday night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remembered it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The roses were blooming behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank looked toward the empty flower bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEvery year they came back,\u201d he said. \u201cEvery spring. Every summer, they grew bigger. People talked about how beautiful they were. Carol should have been here to see them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His voice broke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn’t say anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a moment, he continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI told myself I wanted to beat you. Maybe part of me really did. But that night, I looked outside and couldn’t stand looking at them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou couldn’t stand the roses because Carol loved them?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know how it sounds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, Frank. I don’t think you do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at the damaged garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThose roses helped me survive my divorce. I planted them when I was terrified that everything I had built could disappear because someone else decided to take it away. You crossed that exact line and proved my worst fear right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd Carol loved them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cShe asked me not to stop growing them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cThen you didn’t only destroy something that belonged to me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He lowered his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou destroyed something she wanted to see continue.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was when he stopped trying to defend himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

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

No attempt to make me understand his pain before acknowledging mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing that makes what I did acceptable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The apology affected me more than I expected because, for once, he wasn’t asking me to understand his grief before admitting the damage he had caused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, Frank told the garden club that he would no longer compete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He offered to purchase twelve mature rose bushes to replace mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I refused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can buy roses,\u201d I told him. \u201cBut you can’t buy back fifteen years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A week later, while clearing the remaining damaged branches, I noticed something tiny emerging from one of the old coral-colored canes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first, I thought it was a weed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I noticed the leaves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rose wasn’t dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither were two others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I sat down in the dirt and laughed through my tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over the following months, I slowly rebuilt the garden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some bushes had to be replaced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Others began recovering from the damaged wood and eventually produced new growth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank helped when I asked him to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Most of the time, I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We weren’t suddenly close friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Forgiveness came slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Trust took even longer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following spring, one cutting from the surviving coral rose had developed strong roots.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I planted it in a small pot and carried it across the lawn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frank was outside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked at the plant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cA cutting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFrom your coral rose?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

He looked confused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy are you giving it to me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glanced toward the window where Carol had once sat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlant it there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then he carefully accepted the pot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis doesn’t erase what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cAnd it doesn’t replace anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\u201cBut she loved these roses.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He swallowed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That summer, my garden looked different.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were empty spaces where the mature bushes had once stood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some of the replacement plants were still small, and the surviving bushes grew unevenly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn’t the garden I had before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But one evening, while watering the plants, I looked across the property line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A single coral-colored bloom had opened beneath Carol\u2019s old window.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For fifteen years, I had believed the roses mattered because they represented the life I had rebuilt for myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I eventually realized that wasn’t the whole story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were part of my life, but without my knowledge, they had also become part of Carol’s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe that’s why losing them hurt so deeply\u2014and why saving even a few of them meant so much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes, the things we grow for ourselves quietly become a source of hope for people we never realize are watching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And some things, after being damaged, don’t return exactly the way they were.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They grow in a different form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But they still grow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Diane\u2019s roses had endured harsh weather, illness, pests, and years of mistakes before she finally learned how to care for them properly. But on the night before… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9556","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9556","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9556"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9556\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9558,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9556\/revisions\/9558"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9556"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9556"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newstoday365.today\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9556"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}