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<\/p>\nThe banquet room at the Columbus hotel smelled like roasted chicken, lilies, and too much perfume. I had driven in from my apartment on the east side an hour early because Emily asked me to help with the place cards. I did. I always did the small things.<\/p>\n
Emily looked beautiful in a pale blue dress that wasn\u2019t quite a wedding dress yet. She kept smoothing the fabric over her hips and asking if the neckline was too much. I told her it was perfect. Mom arrived twenty minutes late, already talking, already directing the waitstaff about the wine.<\/p>\n
I sat two seats down from them at the long table. Uncle Ray was on my left, already working on his second beer. Cousin Dana kept leaning across to show me pictures of her new kitchen. I smiled at the right times. I had practiced that smile for years.<\/p>\n
When the salads were cleared, Mom stood up. The room quieted the way it always did when she decided it should. She lifted her glass.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to thank my oldest daughter,\u201d she said, looking straight at me. \u201cFor finally stepping up and paying her share of Emily\u2019s wedding. It means more than she knows.\u201d<\/p>\n
Twenty people clapped. Some of them looked at me with the kind of warm approval that makes your throat close. I kept my face still. I had not transferred a dollar. I had not written a check. I had told Mom three months earlier, clearly, that I could help with flowers or the rehearsal dinner itself but I could not take on a third of the venue cost. She had said she understood.<\/p>\n
My phone buzzed against my thigh. I glanced down because looking at Mom felt impossible.<\/p>\n
Credit-monitoring alert. A new card had been opened in my name. Limit ten thousand dollars. Mailing address: Mom\u2019s house on Park Street in Grove City.<\/p>\n
I locked the screen. When I looked up, Mom was still standing, still smiling at me like she had just handed me a gift. Emily\u2019s eyes were on her water glass. She would not lift them.<\/p>\n
I sat through the rest of the toasts. I nodded when people congratulated me. I even managed to say thank you to Aunt Carol when she squeezed my shoulder and whispered that it was about time the family shared the load.<\/p>\n
The dinner ended. People started hugging and promising to see each other at the church on Saturday. I walked out to the parking lot without saying goodbye to either of them. The September air in Columbus was still warm. I sat in my car with the engine off and stared at the alert again.<\/p>\n
It was not a mistake. I already knew that. The only question left was how long they had been planning it.<\/p>\n
I drove home on 70 with the windows down. At a red light I almost called Emily. I didn\u2019t. I almost called Mom. I didn\u2019t do that either.<\/p>\n
When I got to my apartment I sat on the closed toilet lid in the dark bathroom and opened every credit app I had. The new account was there, dated eight days earlier. The application listed my Social Security number, my date of birth, and the Grove City address I had not lived at since I was twenty-two.<\/p>\n
I put the phone face down on the sink.<\/p>\n
Tomorrow I would call the bank. Tonight I just needed the room to stop tilting.<\/p>\n
I slept maybe three hours. At 6:14 I was already on hold with the credit-card company. The representative was polite in the way people are when they have read the same script two hundred times.<\/p>\n
Yes, the account had been opened. Yes, the mailing address was Park Street, Grove City. Yes, the security questions had been answered correctly\u2014mother\u2019s maiden name, first pet, street I grew up on. All things Mom would know without thinking.<\/p>\n
They placed a fraud alert and said they would mail paperwork. I asked them to close it immediately. They said they needed me to file a formal dispute first.<\/p>\n
I made coffee I did not drink and sat at my small kitchen table looking at the Grove City address on the screen. I had grown up in that house. The front porch still sagged on the left side. The mailbox still said Brennan even though Mom had never remarried.<\/p>\n
At 8:30 I texted Emily.<\/p>\n
We need to talk. Not at the wedding stuff. Today.<\/p>\n
She answered forty minutes later.<\/p>\n
Can it wait until after Saturday? Mom\u2019s already stressed.<\/p>\n
I stared at the message until the screen dimmed.<\/p>\n
I called my friend Priya instead. She works in a bank branch in Dublin and has heard every version of family money stories. I told her the toast, the alert, the address. She was quiet for a long time.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not a mix-up, Hannah. That\u2019s someone using your information on purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need to freeze everything today. All three bureaus. And you should think about a police report if the charges start hitting.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had not even looked at charges yet. I logged back in. Four thousand one hundred dollars had already been authorized. Two charges to a downtown Columbus florist. One to the venue\u2019s catering deposit.<\/p>\n
The wedding Emily had dreamed about since she was sixteen was being paid for with a card that had my name on it and my mother\u2019s address.<\/p>\n
I froze Equifax, Experian, and TransUnion before lunch. Each confirmation email felt like closing a door I should have closed years ago.<\/p>\n
In the afternoon I drove past the Grove City house without stopping. Mom\u2019s Buick was in the driveway. The living-room blinds were open. I kept going.<\/p>\n
That night Emily finally called.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom said you agreed months ago,\u201d she said. Her voice was small. \u201cShe said you told her to just handle it and you\u2019d settle up later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never said that.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cEmily. Did you know she opened a card in my name?\u201d<\/p>\n
Another silence, longer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know it was in your name,\u201d she said. \u201cI knew she was figuring out the money. I didn\u2019t ask how.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hung up before I said something I could not take back.<\/p>\n
I sat on my couch with the television off and thought about every time Mom had asked me for \u201cjust a little help\u201d over the years. A car repair. A utility bill when she was between jobs. The time she needed three thousand for a dental emergency that somehow also paid for new living-room furniture.<\/p>\n
I had always said yes. I had told myself that was what oldest daughters did.<\/p>\n
Apparently the rules had changed and no one had informed me.<\/p>\n
Monday morning I took a personal day. I printed the credit-card statements, the alert emails, and the application details the bank had sent overnight. Then I drove to Grove City.<\/p>\n
Mom opened the door in her robe even though it was almost ten. She looked unsurprised to see me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI figured you\u2019d come,\u201d she said, and stepped aside like this was a normal visit.<\/p>\n
The house smelled the same\u2014coffee, dryer sheets, the faint cigarette smoke she still pretended she had quit. I followed her to the kitchen. The new card statements were not on the counter. Of course they weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I laid my papers on the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou opened a credit card in my name. You had it sent here. You\u2019ve already spent over four thousand dollars on Emily\u2019s wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom poured herself more coffee and did not sit down.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s family, Hannah. The venue wanted the balance. Emily was going to have a panic attack. You said you couldn\u2019t help, so I found a way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou found a way that is illegal.\u201d<\/p>\n
She waved a hand. \u201cIt\u2019s not like I stole your identity to go shopping. It\u2019s the wedding. You\u2019ll get the money back when we sell the extra land out back next spring. I already talked to the realtor.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no extra land. There was a narrow strip of grass and an old shed.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom. This is fraud. They can come after me. Collections. My credit. Everything I\u2019ve built.\u201d<\/p>\n
She finally looked at me, and the smile from Saturday night was gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve always been dramatic about money. You have a good job. You have an apartment you barely furnish. You can carry this for a few months. That\u2019s what family does.\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought about the student loans I was still paying. The car that needed new tires. The fact that I had said no because I was trying, for once, to keep something for myself.<\/p>\n
\u201cI said no,\u201d I told her. \u201cThat was the whole point.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I heard you. I just didn\u2019t accept it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The kitchen clock ticked. Somewhere in the house a load of laundry buzzed.<\/p>\n
I asked her for the card. She said she had already cut it up. I did not believe her.<\/p>\n
When I left, she stood on the porch and called after me that I was going to ruin Emily\u2019s week if I kept making this into a federal case.<\/p>\n
I sat in my car two blocks away and called the non-emergency police line. The officer who took the report was kind and tired. He said identity theft by a parent was more common than people thought. He gave me a case number and told me to keep every document.<\/p>\n
I did not feel victorious. I felt like I had just set a house on fire that I still had to live next to.<\/p>\n
The next three days blurred. I sent the police report number to the credit-card company. I sent it to the three bureaus. I called the florist and the venue and explained, voice shaking, that the card used for the deposits was fraudulent. Both places were professional and uncomfortable. They said they would need new payment arrangements from the actual client.<\/p>\n
Emily called six times. I let the first four go to voicemail. On the fifth I answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re asking Mom for the money now,\u201d she said. She was crying. \u201cThe florist said they might cancel if we don\u2019t settle by Thursday. Hannah, please. It\u2019s my wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know it\u2019s your wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen stop this. Just\u2026 let it ride until after. We can figure it out later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLater is how I ended up with a ten-thousand-dollar card I never asked for.\u201d<\/p>\n
She went quiet. Then she said the sentence I think she had been practicing.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always make everything about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hung up again.<\/p>\n
Priya came over after work with Thai food I barely touched. She sat on my floor and helped me write a timeline\u2014every conversation I could remember, every time Mom had asked for money, every time I had said I needed to think about it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re doing the right thing,\u201d she said. \u201cIt just doesn\u2019t feel like it yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wednesday night I received an email from the credit-card company. They had provisionally closed the account and were investigating. They also listed two older inquiries I had not noticed\u2014one from a furniture store six months ago, one from a department store last winter. Both used the Grove City address.<\/p>\n
Mom had been testing the waters.<\/p>\n
I printed those too and added them to the folder I was now carrying everywhere.<\/p>\n
Thursday morning I drove to the courthouse and asked about civil options. The clerk gave me forms for small claims and a pamphlet on financial elder abuse that did not quite fit because I was the one being used, not the other way around. Still, I took everything they offered.<\/p>\n
On the way home I stopped at a park and sat in the car with the folder on the passenger seat. I thought about Saturday. I thought about walking into that church or not walking in. I thought about the look on Emily\u2019s face if I stayed home.<\/p>\n
I did not have an answer yet. I only knew I could not sit at another table and smile while they spent money that had my name attached to it.<\/p>\n
Friday the wedding party had a final fitting and a lunch I was supposed to attend. I sent Emily a message that I would not be there.<\/p>\n
She showed up at my apartment at 4:17 instead.<\/p>\n
She looked exhausted. The pale blue dress from the rehearsal dinner was gone; she was in jeans and a sweatshirt that used to be mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom is telling everyone you\u2019re trying to sabotage the wedding because you\u2019re jealous I found someone first,\u201d she said without sitting down.<\/p>\n
I almost laughed. It came out like a cough.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not jealous, Emily. I\u2019m trying not to get buried in debt I didn\u2019t create.\u201d<\/p>\n
She dropped onto the edge of my couch.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know it was in your name. I swear. She told me she had a line of credit. I thought it was hers.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to believe her. Part of me did. Another part remembered how quickly she had looked away at the dinner table.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you ask more questions? You know how she is with money.\u201d<\/p>\n
Emily picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I wanted the wedding. Because every time I asked, she said it was handled. Because I didn\u2019t want to be the difficult daughter for once.\u201d<\/p>\n
That last part sat between us.<\/p>\n
We had grown up in the same house with the same mother. I had learned to say no too late. Emily had learned to stop asking.<\/p>\n
She stayed for an hour. We did not hug when she left. She just said, \u201cPlease don\u2019t make a scene tomorrow,\u201d and walked down the stairs.<\/p>\n
That night I wrote two versions of a text I never sent. One said I would come to the ceremony but not the reception. The other said I needed time and I hoped she had a beautiful day.<\/p>\n
I deleted both.<\/p>\n
I froze my credit again, even though it was already frozen, just to hear the confirmation recordings. Then I laid out the clothes I would wear if I decided to go: a simple navy dress, low shoes, no jewelry Mom had ever given me.<\/p>\n
I still did not know if I would put them on in the morning.<\/p>\n
Saturday arrived gray and humid, the kind of Ohio morning that makes hair frizz and tempers short.<\/p>\n
I got dressed. I sat in my car in the apartment lot for twenty minutes with the folder on the seat beside me. Then I drove to the church.<\/p>\n
I did not go inside right away. I stood under a tree across the street and watched people arrive. Uncle Ray in a suit that no longer buttoned. Aunt Carol already blotting her eyes. Mom in a champagne-colored dress I had never seen, smiling like nothing in the world was wrong.<\/p>\n
Emily stepped out of a black car with our cousin Dana holding the train of her actual wedding dress. She looked like herself and not like herself at the same time.<\/p>\n
I waited until the music started, then slipped into the last pew on the left. No one turned around.<\/p>\n
The ceremony was short. Emily cried. The groom\u2014his name was Tyler, a quiet man who worked in logistics\u2014looked like he could not believe she had said yes. Mom sat in the front row and never once glanced back.<\/p>\n
When they walked out I stayed seated until the sanctuary emptied. Then I left through a side door and drove to a diner I used to go to in college. I ordered coffee and toast I did not eat.<\/p>\n
My phone filled with photos from people who thought I was there. Group shots. The first dance preview from the reception. Mom\u2019s toast, again, this time calling Emily her miracle.<\/p>\n
I turned the phone face down.<\/p>\n
In the afternoon Priya texted.<\/p>\n
You okay?<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know, I answered.<\/p>\n
You don\u2019t have to be okay today.<\/p>\n
I sat in that diner until the lunch crowd left and the staff started resetting for dinner. Then I drove home, took off the navy dress, and slept in my clothes on top of the covers.<\/p>\n
I missed the reception. I did not regret it as much as I thought I would.<\/p>\n
Two days after the wedding the credit-card company called. The investigation had moved faster than expected because I had a police report and because the charges were so clearly wedding-related. They confirmed the account would be closed as fraud. They would not hold me responsible for the four thousand already spent, but they needed me to sign additional affidavits.<\/p>\n
I signed them at my kitchen table.<\/p>\n
Mom called that same afternoon. I let it go to voicemail. She left a message that started reasonable and ended with her saying I had embarrassed the entire family and that Tyler\u2019s parents were asking questions.<\/p>\n
Emily did not call.<\/p>\n
On Wednesday I received a letter from a collections department that had already been forwarded from Grove City. Even though the card was being treated as fraud, the system was still catching up. I forwarded it to the investigator and felt my stomach drop anyway.<\/p>\n
I met with a legal-aid attorney who specialized in consumer issues. She was young and blunt.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did everything right,\u201d she said. \u201cMost people wait until the damage is worse. The hard part now is the family part. The law can close the account. It cannot make your mother admit what she did.\u201d<\/p>\n
I asked if I should sue.<\/p>\n
She said small claims was possible for the emotional and administrative cost, but collection would be another battle and it would keep us tied together for months.<\/p>\n
I left her office without filing anything extra. I already had the police report. That felt like enough line in the sand.<\/p>\n
That night I opened a new savings account at a different bank and set up automatic transfers I should have started years earlier. It was a small amount. It was mine.<\/p>\n
A week after the wedding Emily asked if we could meet at a park halfway between my apartment and Grove City. Neutral ground.<\/p>\n
She looked thinner. The honeymoon had been postponed because of \u201cmoney stuff,\u201d she said, then immediately looked like she regretted the words.<\/p>\n
We sat on a bench facing the playground.<\/p>\n
\u201cTyler knows everything now,\u201d she said. \u201cHe saw the statements when Mom tried to get him to co-sign something else. He told her if she ever used anyone\u2019s information again he would call the police himself.\u201d<\/p>\n
I did not know whether to feel grateful or tired.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe still thinks you\u2019re overreacting,\u201d Emily added. \u201cShe told me you were always the one who kept score.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watched a little boy try to climb a slide the wrong way.<\/p>\n
\u201cI kept score because nobody else was watching the ledger,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Emily nodded like she finally understood that sentence.<\/p>\n
She told me she had moved some of her own things out of Mom\u2019s house that week. Not everything. Just the important papers and the jewelry that had belonged to our grandmother.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not cutting her off,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t. But I\u2019m not letting her handle money for me again. Tyler and I opened our own accounts. Joint, but ours.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was the first grown-up decision I had heard her make without checking Mom\u2019s face first.<\/p>\n
We sat there until the sun started to drop. Before she left she said, \u201cI should have looked at you that night at dinner. I\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I told her I knew.<\/p>\n
It was not forgiveness exactly. It was the beginning of something that might become forgiveness if we both kept showing up.<\/p>\n
Labor Day weekend Mom showed up at my apartment unannounced. She had a foil-covered pan of lasagna and the expression she used when she wanted to pretend the last month had been a misunderstanding.<\/p>\n
I did not let her in.<\/p>\n
We talked through the storm door.<\/p>\n
\u201cI paid the florist myself,\u201d she said. \u201cThe venue too. It\u2019s done. You can drop this now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou paid them with what?\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked away. \u201cI borrowed from Aunt Carol. I\u2019ll figure it out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Aunt Carol was seventy-one and lived on Social Security.<\/p>\n
I told Mom I had a police report and a closed fraudulent account and that I would not be dropping anything. I also told her that if another inquiry ever appeared on my credit I would pursue every legal option available, including talking to Aunt Carol myself.<\/p>\n
She called me ungrateful. She listed every school supply, every ride to practice, every time she had \u201cgone without\u201d so I could have things.<\/p>\n
I let her finish.<\/p>\n
Then I said, \u201cI needed a mother who asked before she used my name. That\u2019s the part you keep skipping.\u201d<\/p>\n
She left the lasagna on the welcome mat. I threw it away after she drove off.<\/p>\n
The next morning I received a certified letter from the credit-card company confirming the account was closed, the balance removed, and a fraud notation placed. I filed it with the rest of the papers.<\/p>\n
I also wrote a letter I did not send. It was to Mom. It said I still loved her and I would not let her near my financial life again. I folded it and put it in the same folder. Maybe one day I would mail it. Maybe I would just keep it as proof that I had drawn the line out loud.<\/p>\n
Emily texted a photo of her and Tyler at a cheap cabin they had rented last-minute instead of the honeymoon. They looked tired and oddly peaceful.<\/p>\n
I sent back a heart. It was the most I could manage, and it was honest.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Winter came early that year. By November the credit alerts had stopped. My score had dipped and then begun the slow climb back. I paid for a credit-monitoring service I should have had all along and learned the numbers by heart.<\/p>\n
Mom and I spoke twice more before Christmas\u2014short, careful conversations about weather and whether the porch light at the Grove City house still worked. We did not talk about the card. We did not talk about the wedding. The silence was its own kind of agreement.<\/p>\n
Emily and Tyler found a small rental on the other side of Columbus. I helped them move a couch. While we carried it up the stairs Emily said, \u201cI told Mom we would do holidays at our place this year. She can come if she wants. No money conversations allowed.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a boundary I had never heard her set.<\/p>\n
I spent Christmas morning at Priya\u2019s with too much food and people who did not need anything from me except my presence. In the afternoon I drove to Emily\u2019s new place for pie. Mom was there. She brought store-bought cookies and sat a little apart. When she looked at me she almost smiled. I almost smiled back. That was as far as we got, and it was farther than October.<\/p>\n
In January I met with the same legal-aid attorney for a final check-in. She said the case was as resolved as these cases ever get. No further charges had appeared. The police report would stay on file if I ever needed it.<\/p>\n
I walked out of her office and stood on the sidewalk for a minute, just breathing the cold air.<\/p>\n
The rehearsal dinner still replayed sometimes\u2014the raised glass, the clapping, the alert lighting up my phone while Mom smiled like she had done me a favor. I no longer tried to rewrite the scene. I just let it sit where it belonged: a night when I finally understood that love and access to my name were not the same thing.<\/p>\n
I kept the folder. I also opened a new one labeled only with the year. Inside it I put the confirmation that the fraudulent account was closed, a copy of my frozen credit reports, and a single photograph from Emily\u2019s wedding that someone had forwarded\u2014Emily and Tyler on the steps of the church, looking at each other instead of the camera.<\/p>\n
I was not in the picture. I did not need to be.<\/p>\n
Some debts you pay. Some you refuse to inherit. I had spent most of my adult life confusing the two. I was done with that particular math.<\/p>\n
On a Saturday in February I drove past the Grove City house one last time without stopping. The porch still sagged. The mailbox still said Brennan. I kept going, windows down even though it was cold, and I did not look back in the rearview until the street was out of sight.<\/p>\n
That felt like an ending I could live with.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
At my sister Emily\u2019s rehearsal dinner, Mom raised her glass and thanked me in front of twenty clapping relatives for finally paying my share of the wedding. I hadn\u2019t sent … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4998,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,7036],"tags":[11667,11661,11666,11663,7708,7414,6735,10606,11668,6924,11664,11670,11671,11665,11669,11662],"class_list":["post-5005","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-finance","category-personal-finance","tag-consumer-protection-identity-theft","tag-credit-card-fraud","tag-credit-freeze-how-to","tag-credit-monitoring-alert","tag-credit-report-dispute","tag-family-money-boundaries","tag-financial-abuse-family","tag-financial-betrayal-family","tag-grove-city-ohio-family-story","tag-identity-theft-by-family","tag-mother-used-daughters-identity","tag-paying-for-sister-wedding","tag-protecting-your-credit-from-relatives","tag-rehearsal-dinner-revelation","tag-unauthorized-credit-card","tag-wedding-expenses-family-conflict"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5005","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=5005"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5005\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5040,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5005\/revisions\/5040"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4998"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=5005"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=5005"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/theviralstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=5005"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}