{"id":6846,"date":"2026-01-26T09:50:12","date_gmt":"2026-01-26T09:50:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/echoesofstories.com\/?p=6846"},"modified":"2026-01-26T09:55:20","modified_gmt":"2026-01-26T09:55:20","slug":"6846","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/?p=6846","title":{"rendered":"At my engagement party, my dad demanded my $50K wedding fund to bail out my “golden child” brother from a loan shark. When I refused, he sl;a;pped me in front of 70 guests. I wiped the blo0d and smiled. “I don’t owe you,” I whispered, “you owe me, and I’m foreclosing on everything.”"},"content":{"rendered":"

The air at\u00a0<\/span>Westbrook Garden<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0that evening should have tasted like victory. It was a crisp Connecticut twilight, scented with the heavy, sweet perfume of white roses and damp earth. Strings of Edison bulbs draped across the hedges like fallen constellations, casting a soft, forgiving glow over the seventy guests who had gathered to witness my transition into a new life.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stood beside\u00a0<\/span>Daniel Miller<\/span><\/strong>, my hand resting on the sleeve of his navy suit. He was my anchor, a brilliant software engineer who saw the world in logic and light. For a few hours, I allowed myself to believe that the shadows of my past were finally beneath me. I was\u00a0<\/span>Eleanor<\/span><\/strong>, a twenty-seven-year-old pharmaceutical researcher who had meticulously engineered her own escape from a house built on sand.<\/span><\/p>\n

But joy is a fragile thing when it is surrounded by predators.<\/span><\/p>\n

I felt the unease before I saw the cause. It was a cold vibration in my marrow, a premonition that the perfect facade was about to buckle. My parents,\u00a0<\/span>William<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/span>Sarah<\/span><\/strong>, had arrived late, looking like weathered portraits of middle-class stability. My brother,\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>, trailed behind them\u2014the “Golden Child” whose brilliance was entirely manufactured by my parents’ constant bailouts.<\/span><\/p>\n

The toast was perfect. Daniel had dropped to one knee, the crowd had erupted in a cacophony of applause, and for a suspended moment, I was the protagonist of my own story. Then, I felt a heavy, unyielding grip on my elbow.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We need a word, Eleanor. Now,” my father hissed. His voice carried the sharp, metallic tang of scotch and desperation.<\/span><\/p>\n

He steered me toward a secluded stone alcove near the\u00a0<\/span>Fountain of Serenity<\/span><\/strong>, a name that felt like a cruel joke. My mother and Justin followed like silent, complicit shadows. The radiant heat of the party faded, replaced by the damp chill of the garden\u2019s edge.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Justin is in trouble,”\u00a0<\/span>William<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0began, his eyes darting around like a cornered animal. “Real trouble. He owes people money\u2014dangerous people.”<\/span><\/p>\n

My heart, which had been light only moments ago, turned into a leaden weight. “How much, Dad?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Seventy thousand,”\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0mumbled, staring at his scuffed loafers. “It was an investment… a business venture…”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It was a gamble,” I corrected, my voice trembling with years of suppressed fury. “Like the energy drink scheme. Like the house-flipping disaster.”<\/span><\/p>\n

My mother,\u00a0<\/span>Sarah<\/span><\/strong>, stepped forward, her eyes brimming with practiced tears. “Sweetie, we know about your wedding fund. The fifty thousand you\u2019ve been bragging about. We need it. Right now. If\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0doesn’t pay, they\u2019ll hurt him. They\u2019ve already come to the house.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The world seemed to tilt. I looked at the three of them\u2014the takers, the enabler, and the golden parasite. “No,” I said, the word coming out small but solid. “Absolutely not.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Eleanor, don’t be a selfish princess!”\u00a0<\/span>William\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0voice erupted, shattering the garden’s peace. Guests near the alcove began to turn. “Your brother\u2019s life is on the line, and you\u2019re worried about a party? Hand over the fund, or this engagement is over.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You don’t get to decide that,” I whispered, my voice hardening. “That money is five years of my life. Five years of double shifts and skipped meals while you two drained your retirement to buy him new cars he\u2019d only wreck. I am done being the backup plan for his failures.”<\/span><\/p>\n

William\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0face turned a violent shade of purple. He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising the skin. “You ungrateful little bitch! You’ll do as you’re told!”<\/span><\/p>\n

I wrenched my arm away. “You have no right to touch me! This is my life!”<\/span><\/p>\n

The slap came without warning.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a sharp, visceral crack that echoed off the stone walls. The force of it whipped my head back, my teeth cutting into the inside of my cheek. I stumbled, my back slamming against a cold decorative column. For a second, the world went white. The taste of copper filled my mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence fell over\u00a0<\/span>Westbrook Garden<\/span><\/strong>. Seventy people watched in frozen horror as the man who raised me crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.<\/span><\/p>\n

I straightened up slowly, my cheek burning like an inferno, my heart eerily calm. I looked my father directly in his bloodshot eyes, and in that moment, the daughter he thought he owned died.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

To understand why fifty thousand dollars was worth a father\u2019s rage and a daughter\u2019s blood, you have to understand the ledger of my childhood.<\/span><\/p>\n

In suburban Connecticut, we were the picture of the American Dream\u2014a neat lawn, a two-car garage, and a perpetual cloud of debt hidden behind a fresh coat of paint.\u00a0<\/span>William<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0was a mid-level insurance salesman with a smile that never quite reached his eyes;\u00a0<\/span>Sarah<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0was the office administrator who spent her days managing other people’s lives because she couldn’t control her own.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then there was\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was four years older, a charismatic void who learned early that he didn’t need to build anything as long as he could convince my parents to give him the tools. By sixteen, he had maxed out a credit card they co-signed. They didn’t scold him; they taught him that consequences were for other people. By twenty, he had dropped out of community college, and they framed it as a “sabbatical for self-discovery.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I was the counter-balance. The “responsible one.” The “stable one.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You\u2019re strong, Eleanor,” my father would say when I asked for a new pair of shoes for track. “You can make the old ones last. Your brother needs help with his car insurance right now.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I learned early that my needs were negotiable, but\u00a0<\/span>Justin\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0whims were sacred.<\/span><\/p>\n

The summer before college, I worked three jobs. I was a waitress at a 5:00 AM diner, a grocery stocker in the afternoon, and a data entry clerk until midnight. When I presented my parents with my acceptance letter to the\u00a0<\/span>University of Connecticut<\/span><\/strong>, my father didn’t offer a celebratory dinner. He looked at the tuition cost and sighed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Our resources are spoken for, Eleanor,” he said, not even looking up from\u00a0<\/span>Justin\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0latest credit statement. “You\u2019ll have to figure it out.”<\/span><\/p>\n

So, I did. I hunted for every scholarship, maintained a 3.9 GPA while working thirty hours a week, and graduated with a degree in pharmaceutical science and a debt of only ten thousand dollars\u2014a miracle of sheer discipline.<\/span><\/p>\n

After graduation, while\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0was “networking” in bars and starting failed MLM businesses, I was living in a cramped apartment with three roommates, driving a ten-year-old\u00a0<\/span>Honda<\/span><\/strong>, and packing a PB&J for lunch every single day. I became a researcher at a major lab, and 30% of every paycheck went into a high-yield savings account labeled\u00a0<\/span>Security<\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

By twenty-seven, I had amassed $50,000. It wasn’t just a wedding fund; it was my fortress. It was the physical manifestation of every hour I had spent on my feet and every luxury I had denied myself.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I met\u00a0<\/span>Daniel<\/span><\/strong>, he didn’t see a “rigid” or “cheap” woman. He saw a survivor. He admired the discipline. He contributed his own savings, but the core of our future was built on my foundation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then came the “Energy Drink” collapse.\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0had somehow managed to accumulate seventy thousand dollars in debt to “private investors”\u2014the kind who don’t use banks and don’t take “I\u2019m sorry” for an answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

My parents had already drained the last of their equity to give him twenty thousand. They thought I was the final piece of the puzzle. They didn’t realize I was the one who was going to break the board.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The sting on my cheek was still throbbing when I pulled my phone from my clutch. My father was still breathing hard, his chest heaving with the remnants of his “disciplinary” rage.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re about to get a surprise you’ll never forget,” I said, my voice cutting through the humid air like a scalpel.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn’t run. I didn’t cry. I walked toward the garden exit, dialing three digits that felt like a prayer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“911, what is your emergency?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I\u2019d like to report an assault,” I said, looking back through the iron fence. “I am at\u00a0<\/span>Westbrook Garden<\/span><\/strong>. My father,\u00a0<\/span>William Carter<\/span><\/strong>, just struck me in front of seventy witnesses. I want officers on the scene.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Behind me, the party was a wreckage of social etiquette.\u00a0<\/span>Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0stood like a sentinel between my father and the guests, his face a mask of cold fury I had never seen before. His parents,\u00a0<\/span>Mark<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/span>Susan<\/span><\/strong>, stood beside him, looking appalled.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t you ever touch her again,”\u00a0<\/span>Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0growled, his voice a low vibration that made the air feel electric.<\/span><\/p>\n

My father scoffed, though I could see the first tremors of panic in his hands. “This is family business, boy! Stay out of it! She\u2019s my daughter! I paid for her life!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Actually,” I shouted from the gate, my phone still pressed to my ear, “the state of Connecticut says I\u2019m an adult. And you just committed a felony.”<\/span><\/p>\n

My best friend,\u00a0<\/span>Chloe<\/span><\/strong>, hurried to my side, her face pale. She held up her phone. “I got it, Eleanor. Every word. The demand for the money, the threats, the slap. It\u2019s all on 4K video.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Within ten minutes, the soft chirping of crickets was drowned out by the rhythmic wail of sirens. Blue and red lights began to dance across the white roses, turning the magical garden into a crime scene.<\/span><\/p>\n

Four officers stepped onto the gravel.\u00a0<\/span>Officer Emily Carter<\/span><\/strong>\u2014no relation, though she looked like the sister I wished I had\u2014approached me first.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We received a call about a domestic assault,” she said, her eyes landing on the bright red welt blooming across my cheek. “Are you the complainant?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I am,” I said, standing tall. “That man over there,\u00a0<\/span>William Carter<\/span><\/strong>, assaulted me because I refused to hand over my savings to my brother.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The officers split up. Two moved toward my father, who was now attempting to straighten his tie and adopt the persona of an aggrieved parent.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Officers, this is all a misunderstanding,” he began, his voice slurring. “A little family discipline. My daughter is being dramatic\u2014”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Sir,”\u00a0<\/span>Officer Carter<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0interrupted, her voice like iron. “Your daughter is twenty-seven. Striking another adult is not ‘discipline.’ It\u2019s assault. And you appear to be intoxicated.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I watched as they led him toward the cruisers. My mother,\u00a0<\/span>Sarah<\/span><\/strong>, trailed behind them, wailing about “family loyalty” and the “shame” I was bringing to the house.\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0looked like he wanted to dissolve into the shrubs.<\/span><\/p>\n

But as they put the handcuffs on my father, he turned back to me, his face twisted with a malignant sort of triumph.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You think you\u2019re so smart, Eleanor?” he yelled. “The debt collectors know where you live! They know where you work! If\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0doesn’t pay, they\u2019re coming for all of us! Your precious wedding is a target now!”<\/span><\/p>\n

The gavel of reality hit me then. This wasn’t just about a slap. My father had invited monsters to our table, and he had used my name to lure them in.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The week following the engagement party was a descent into a nightmare I hadn’t realized I was already living.<\/span><\/p>\n

Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0took a leave of absence to stay with me, fielding the barrages of guilt-laden texts from my mother. We stayed at a hotel; I couldn’t bear the thought of my apartment being a “target” as my father had claimed.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the real shock came three days after the arrest.\u00a0<\/span>Officer Carter<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0called me with the results of the preliminary financial investigation.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Eleanor,” she said, her tone grave. “We started looking into your father\u2019s ‘investors’ to see if there were legitimate threats against you. We found an underground gambling ring operating out of a social club in\u00a0<\/span>Bridgeport<\/span><\/strong>.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Gambling?” I whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Your father wasn’t just bailing out your brother. He was a ‘recruiter’ for the ring, taking a cut of the profits to cover his own betting losses. But that’s not the worst part.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, my hand over my mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He\u2019s been using your identity for years, Eleanor. We found three credit cards and two personal loans taken out in your name, with the billing addresses directed to a P.O. Box he controlled. All told, he\u2019s run up nearly forty thousand dollars in debt under your Social Security number.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The room tilted. Every frugality, every skipped meal, every hour of overtime I had worked to build my “security” had been undermined by the man who called me ungrateful.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the avalanche didn’t stop there.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next day, my\u00a0<\/span>Aunt Laura<\/span><\/strong>, my father\u2019s sister, called me. She had seen\u00a0<\/span>Chloe\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0video on Facebook.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Eleanor, I\u2019m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I thought you were the one who needed the money. Your father came to me three years ago, saying you were in desperate need of fifteen thousand dollars for ‘graduate school expenses’ that your lab wouldn’t cover. I gave it to him, and I always wondered why you never sent a thank-you note.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I felt a cold, hollow sensation in my chest. “I never went to graduate school, Aunt Laura. I have a Bachelor\u2019s.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The calls kept coming. My uncle had “invested” ten thousand in my “first home down payment.” My grandmother had given five thousand for a “medical procedure” I supposedly needed.<\/span><\/p>\n

My father had systematically looted our extended family by using my reputation for responsibility as his primary weapon. They had been cold to me at Christmas for years, thinking I was an ungrateful child who took their life savings and never looked back.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was devastated. I was humiliated. But more than anything, I was finished with the girl who stayed quiet to keep the peace. I called my lawyer and gave her one instruction: “Don’t just prosecute the assault. I want every cent of the fraud accounted for. I want the total destruction of his lies.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Five days after the party, a knock sounded at my hotel room door.\u00a0<\/span>Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0checked the peephole and sighed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It\u2019s\u00a0<\/span>Justin<\/span><\/strong>,” he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I opened the door. My brother looked like a ghost of the man I\u2019d seen in the garden. His hair was greasy, his expensive watch was gone, and his eyes were red-rimmed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice cracking.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Leave the door open,” I said, sitting at the small desk.<\/span><\/p>\n

Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0paced the room, his hands shaking. “The collectors… they\u2019re not businessmen, Eleanor. They\u2019re thugs. They showed up at Mom\u2019s yesterday. They broke the front window. They said if they don’t get five thousand by Friday as a ‘good faith’ payment, they\u2019re going to burn the house down.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Go to the police,” I said flatly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I can’t! Dad was using my business accounts to move the gambling money! If I talk, I\u2019m an accomplice to money laundering! Please, Eleanor… just five thousand. I know you\u2019re mad about the slap, but this is Mom\u2019s safety!”<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at him\u2014really looked at him. The boy who had been given everything and learned nothing.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You and Dad are criminals, Justin. You let him use your accounts because you were too lazy to earn your own money, and you thought you could ride his coattails to a jackpot. Well, the jackpot is a jail cell.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“How can you be so cold?” he shrieked. “We’re family!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Family doesn’t steal my identity,” I retorted. “Family doesn’t tell my aunts and uncles that I\u2019m a beggar to fund their poker habits. And family certainly doesn’t slap me in front of the man I love.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0stepped forward, his presence filling the room. “I think it’s time for you to go, Justin. Before I decide to finish what the police started.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0turned to leave, but at the threshold, he stopped and looked back. A flicker of his old, bitter arrogance returned. “For what it’s worth, Eleanor, you were always the problem. You were always so perfect, so rigid. You made us all look bad just by existing.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He slammed the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

I broke down then. I didn’t cry for the money or the stolen reputation. I cried for the twenty-seven years I had spent trying to earn the love of people who viewed my integrity as an insult.<\/span><\/p>\n

Daniel held me until the sun went down. “We\u2019re going to rebuild,” he whispered. “Not on their terms. On ours.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The criminal case against\u00a0<\/span>William Carter<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0moved with the speed of a landslide. With the video evidence and the mountain of financial fraud documents, the prosecutor didn’t need me to do much more than exist.<\/span><\/p>\n

But I wanted to be there. I wanted them to see me.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the day of the plea hearing, I wore a charcoal suit and pinned my hair back, exposing the faint, fading yellowish bruise on my cheek\u2014a badge of courage I refused to hide.<\/span><\/p>\n

My father looked twenty years older. He was dressed in a cheap, ill-fitting suit, his bravado replaced by a slumped, defeated posture. My mother sat in the back row, clutching her rosary, still looking at me with eyes that accused\u00a0<\/span>me<\/span>\u00a0of being the traitor.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Mr. Carter,” the judge said, her voice echoing through the sterile courtroom. “You are charged with third-degree assault, identity theft, and multiple counts of financial fraud. How do you plead?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Guilty,” he whispered, not looking at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

The plea deal was firm: eighteen months in a minimum-security facility, followed by five years of probation. He was required to pay full restitution to the family members he had defrauded and attend mandatory gambling addiction treatment.<\/span><\/p>\n

The assault charge carried its own weight\u2014a permanent restraining order that forbade him from ever contacting me again.<\/span><\/p>\n

As they led him away, my mother rushed toward me in the hallway. “Are you happy now?” she hissed, her face contorted. “Your father is going to a cage! Our family is destroyed! All over a stupid slap and some money!”<\/span><\/p>\n

I stopped and looked her in the eyes. I felt a profound sense of pity for her\u2014a woman who had spent her life guarding a hollow throne.<\/span><\/p>\n

“The family was destroyed long ago, Mom,” I said quietly. “I just stopped pretending it was still standing. I hope you find the courage to heal, but you won’t be doing it on my dime anymore.”<\/span><\/p>\n

I walked away, and for the first time in my life, the air didn’t feel heavy.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the months that followed, I reconnected with Aunt Laura and the others. I shared the truth, I showed them the bank statements, and I watched the frost between us melt. It would take years to fully repair the trust, but the bridge was being built\u2014one honest conversation at a time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Six months later, I stood in the\u00a0<\/span>Riverside Botanic Garden<\/span><\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn’t the fifty-thousand-dollar extravaganza I had once dreamed of. There were no Edison bulbs, no seventy guests, and no “Golden Child” lurking in the shadows.<\/span><\/p>\n

Instead, there were thirty people\u2014the ones who had stayed. The ones who had believed me. The ones who understood that loyalty is earned, not demanded by blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wore a simple ivory sheath dress that cost three hundred dollars. My bouquet was made of wildflowers I had picked myself.<\/span><\/p>\n

Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0stood at the altar, his eyes shining with a love that wasn’t transactional. He had been my rock through the depositions, the therapy sessions, and the long, silent nights of healing.<\/span><\/p>\n

As we exchanged vows, I thought about the $50,000 wedding fund.<\/span><\/p>\n

Half of it had gone to legal fees and therapy\u2014the best investment I had ever made. Another portion had been a down payment on a modest three-bedroom cottage we had closed on the month before. The rest sat in a savings account for our future children.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I promise to respect your boundaries,”\u00a0<\/span>Daniel<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0said, his voice steady. “I promise to build a house where ‘no’ is a complete sentence and where love is never a debt.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tears blurred my vision. Not tears of grief, but of profound, abiding peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

My mother had attended, sitting quietly in the back. She had started therapy herself, though the progress was agonizingly slow. She hadn’t spoken to my father since he went away; the reality of his debts had finally forced her to see the man behind the mask. She was trying. And for now, that was enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

Justin<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0was working as a bartender in\u00a0<\/span>Vermont<\/span><\/strong>, living in a studio apartment and attending GA meetings. He hadn’t asked for money in four months. It was a small step, but it was his own.<\/span><\/p>\n

After the ceremony, we gathered in a glass-enclosed pavilion for a dinner of pasta and laughter.\u00a0<\/span>Chloe<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0stood up to give the final toast.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I\u2019ve known Eleanor since we were kids,” she began, looking at me with pride. “I\u2019ve seen her carry the weight of an entire family on her shoulders while she walked through fire to get her degree. But this year, I saw her do something even harder. I saw her set that weight down.”<\/span><\/p>\n

She raised her glass. “To Eleanor and Daniel. May your life be built on truth, your home be filled with peace, and may you always know your own worth.”<\/span><\/p>\n

As the guests cheered, I leaned into\u00a0<\/span>Daniel\u2019s<\/span><\/strong>\u00a0embrace. The fountains in the garden splashed softly, a rhythmic reminder that life goes on, that beauty can grow from the most broken soil.<\/span><\/p>\n

I realized then that the $50,000 I had saved wasn’t for a wedding. It was for this: the freedom to choose my own family.<\/span><\/p>\n

The sun dipped below the horizon, and as the stars began to appear, I knew that I was finally, irrevocably, safe.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The air at\u00a0Westbrook Garden\u00a0that evening should have tasted like victory. It was a crisp Connecticut twilight, scented with the heavy, sweet perfume of white roses and damp earth…. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":6847,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[39],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6846","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-echoes-of-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6846","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6846"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6846\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/6847"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6846"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6846"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/happylifeaura.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6846"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}