{"id":7146,"date":"2026-09-14T21:39:48","date_gmt":"2026-09-14T21:39:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/?p=7146"},"modified":"2026-09-14T21:39:50","modified_gmt":"2026-09-14T21:39:50","slug":"part-2-my-daughter-stopped-telling-dad-about-pain-the-hospital-revealed-why-she-had-suffered-silently","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/?p=7146","title":{"rendered":"PART 2 \u2013 My daughter stopped telling Dad about pain. The hospital revealed why she had suffered silently."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
<\/div>\n<\/header>\n
\n
PART 2 \u2014 THE SECRET HE MADE HER KEEP<\/h5>\n

For several seconds, nobody in the room moved.
\nMy daughter\u2019s small nod seemed to fill every inch of space between us.
\nThe doctor lowered his eyes toward the chart, giving her a moment, but I couldn\u2019t look away from her.
\n\u201cWhat exactly did he say?\u201d I asked.
\nMy voice sounded calm.
\nI have no idea how.
\nHer chin trembled.
\n\u201cHe said not to tell you because you\u2019d overreact.\u201d
\nI felt something tighten in my chest.
\n\u201cOverreact to what?\u201d
\nShe glanced at the doctor.<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

Then she whispered, \u201cTo them wanting more tests.\u201d
\nThe doctor gently closed the laptop.
\n\u201cI\u2019m going to step outside for a minute,\u201d he said. \u201cA nurse will be in shortly. We\u2019re arranging the next imaging study now.\u201d
\nHe looked directly at me before leaving.
\n\u201cWe shouldn\u2019t delay this again.\u201d
\nThe door clicked shut.
\nThe second we were alone, I turned toward my daughter.
\nShe immediately started crying.
\nNot loudly.
\nThat somehow made it worse.<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

She covered her face with her sleeves, shoulders shaking as though she had spent months holding everything inside and had finally run out of strength.
\nI pulled her against me.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she kept saying.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cI should\u2019ve told you.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, sweetheart.\u201d
\n\u201cI knew you would be mad.\u201d
\n\u201cAt you?\u201d
\nShe nodded against my shoulder.
\nI held her tighter.
\n\u201cI am not angry with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

\u201cBut Dad said\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t care what Dad said.\u201d
\nThe words came out sharper than I intended.
\nShe flinched.
\nI forced myself to soften my voice.
\n\u201cYou were hurting. You told an adult. You went to a doctor. You did everything a fifteen-year-old girl should have had to do. None of this is your responsibility.\u201d
\nShe wiped her cheeks.
\nFor the first time that afternoon, she looked directly at me.
\nThere was something in her expression I hadn\u2019t seen before.<\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

Relief.
\nBut underneath it was fear.
\nNot fear of the hospital.
\nFear of going home.
\nThat realization hit me harder than anything the doctor had said.
\n\u201cAre you afraid of your father?\u201d
\nHer eyes dropped immediately.
\nMy heart sank.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s not what I asked.\u201d
\nShe stared at her shoes.
\n\u201cSometimes.\u201d
\nOne word.
\nThat was all it took.
\nI felt as though someone had quietly removed the floor beneath me.
\nMy husband had never hit me.
\nHe had never hit our daughter as far as I knew.
\nHe could be impatient. Dismissive. Cold when things didn\u2019t go according to plan.
\nBut afraid?
\nI had never imagined my daughter was afraid of him.
\n\u201cWhat happens when you tell him you\u2019re hurting?\u201d
\nShe twisted the cuff of her sleeve.
\n\u201cHe gets irritated.\u201d
\n\u201cHow irritated?\u201d
\n\u201cHe says I ruin everything.\u201d
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\nShe shrugged.
\n\u201cHe says there\u2019s always something wrong with me. My stomach. My head. Being tired. He says other kids go to school and don\u2019t complain all the time.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\nMonths of memories rearranged themselves in my head.
\nBreakfasts she barely touched.
\nMornings when she asked if she could stay home.
\nEvenings when my husband told her to stop being dramatic.
\nThe time she vomited before school and he accused her of trying to avoid a math test.
\nThe Saturday she stayed in bed until noon while he stood in the hallway telling her she was lazy.
\nI had defended her sometimes.
\nOther times, I had stayed quiet because I thought he was frustrated.
\nBecause I thought parents disagreed.
\nBecause I thought marriage required choosing which arguments mattered.
\nNow I wondered how many times my silence had sounded like agreement to my daughter.
\nI swallowed the guilt.
\n\u201cWhat happened five weeks ago?\u201d
\nShe wiped her nose with a tissue.
\n\u201cI woke up really early because it hurt so bad.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you wake me?\u201d
\n\u201cYou were already at work.\u201d
\nOf course.
\nI had covered an early shift that morning.
\n\u201cDad was home?\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\n\u201cI told him I thought something was wrong. At first he said to take pain medicine.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d
\n\u201cI threw up.\u201d
\nMy fingers curled against my knees.
\n\u201cHe took you to the clinic after that?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did the doctor say?\u201d
\n\u201cThey asked me questions and did some tests. Then they said they wanted another scan because they couldn\u2019t tell exactly what was causing it.\u201d
\nHer voice became quieter.
\n\u201cDad got weird after that.\u201d
\n\u201cWeird how?\u201d
\n\u201cHe kept asking how much the scan would cost.\u201d
\nI closed my eyes for half a second.
\nMoney.
\nOf course money had been part of it.
\nMy husband handled most of our insurance paperwork.
\nHe complained about deductibles constantly.
\nBut we were not destitute.
\nWe had savings.
\nWe had insurance.
\nWe had options.
\nAnd even if we hadn\u2019t, this was our child.
\n\u201cWhat happened when you left?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was angry in the car.\u201d
\n\u201cAt you?\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d
\n\u201cHe said the doctor was covering themselves because hospitals order tests they don\u2019t need so they can charge people.\u201d
\nThat sounded exactly like him.
\nI could hear his voice saying it.
\nConfident.
\nAnnoyed.
\nCertain everyone else was incompetent.
\n\u201cHe said if I still hurt in a few days, we\u2019d figure it out.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd did you still hurt?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you tell him?\u201d
\n\u201cAt first.\u201d
\nMy throat tightened.
\n\u201cAt first?\u201d
\n\u201cHe told me I needed to stop thinking about it.\u201d
\nI stared at my own hands.
\n\u201cThen what?\u201d
\n\u201cAfter a while, I stopped telling him.\u201d
\nThe words from yesterday returned to me.
\nI stopped telling Dad when it hurts.
\nHe says I\u2019m just doing it for attention.
\n\u201cHow long have you been hiding the pain from me?\u201d
\nShe hesitated.
\n\u201cMaybe two months.\u201d
\nTwo months.
\nSixty days.
\nI had slept twenty feet away from my child while she hurt in silence.
\nI stood abruptly and walked toward the window because I was afraid she would see my face.
\nCars moved through the hospital parking lot below.
\nPeople entered.
\nPeople left.
\nEveryone seemed to be living an ordinary afternoon.
\nMine had stopped being ordinary.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nI turned.
\nShe looked frightened again.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d
\nI crossed the room instantly.
\n\u201cStop apologizing.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t want you and Dad to fight.\u201d
\n\u201cThat is not something you need to worry about.\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019ll know I told you.\u201d
\nThat sentence changed everything.
\nNot \u201cHe\u2019ll be mad.\u201d
\nNot \u201cHe\u2019ll argue.\u201d
\nHe\u2019ll know I told you.
\nLike she had broken a rule.
\nA secret.
\nI sat beside her again.
\n\u201cHas he asked you to keep other things from me?\u201d
\nShe went very still.
\nThere it was.
\nA tiny change.
\nBut I saw it.
\n\u201cSweetheart.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nToo fast.
\nI took her hand.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to protect him.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m not.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re looking at the door.\u201d
\nHer eyes filled again.
\nI waited.
\nI didn\u2019t push.
\nAfter nearly a minute, she whispered, \u201cSometimes.\u201d
\nMy heartbeat accelerated.
\n\u201cWhat things?\u201d
\n\u201cJust stuff.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat kind of stuff?\u201d
\nShe pulled her hand away.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t want to talk about it right now.\u201d
\nEverything inside me wanted answers.
\nBut the look on her face stopped me.
\n\u201cOkay.\u201d
\nShe looked surprised.
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t have to talk about it right now.\u201d
\n\u201cReally?\u201d
\n\u201cReally.\u201d
\nHer shoulders relaxed slightly.
\n\u201cBut I need you to understand something.\u201d
\nShe looked at me.
\n\u201cYou never have to keep a secret because an adult tells you I\u2019ll be upset. If something makes you scared, hurts you, or feels wrong, you tell me.\u201d
\nHer lip trembled.
\n\u201cEven if it\u2019s Dad?\u201d
\n\u201cEspecially if it\u2019s Dad.\u201d
\nThe nurse entered before she could answer.
\nThe next two hours became a blur of forms, bloodwork, waiting rooms, and machines.
\nI texted my supervisor that I wouldn\u2019t be coming back to work.
\nThen I silenced my phone.
\nI didn\u2019t contact my husband.
\nNot yet.
\nAt 4:17 p.m., he texted me.
\nWhere are you?
\nI stared at the message.
\nHe usually didn\u2019t get home until after six.
\nWhy was he asking now?
\nAnother message arrived.
\nSchool called. You signed her out.
\nMy daughter saw my face.
\n\u201cIs that Dad?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHer entire body tensed.
\nThat reaction made my decision for me.
\nI locked the screen.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have to talk to him.\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019ll keep calling.\u201d
\n\u201cHe can call.\u201d
\nThirty seconds later, my phone rang.
\nMy husband.
\nI let it ring.
\nHe called again.
\nThen again.
\nOn the fourth call, a text appeared.
\nWhat the hell is going on?
\nMy daughter whispered, \u201cHe\u2019s going to be furious.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\n\u201cLet him.\u201d
\nThe words surprised both of us.
\nFor fifteen years, my husband had been the person in our family who decided what constituted a problem.
\nA broken dishwasher was a problem.
\nA late credit card fee was a problem.
\nOur daughter crying because she didn\u2019t feel well was drama.
\nI had adapted myself around his moods so gradually that I hadn\u2019t noticed I was doing it.
\nApparently, our daughter had too.
\nAn hour later, the doctor returned.
\nThis time, he wasn\u2019t alone.
\nA woman wearing a hospital badge followed him inside.
\nShe introduced herself as a patient advocate.
\nThat frightened me immediately.
\nThe doctor sat across from us.
\n\u201cWe have more information now.\u201d
\nI reached for my daughter\u2019s hand.
\nHe explained that the imaging showed an abnormal mass in her abdomen.
\nThe words that followed came slowly.
\nLocation.
\nInflammation.
\nPressure.
\nFurther testing.
\nSpecialist.
\nPossible surgery.
\nI heard each word separately without being able to connect them.
\nMy daughter squeezed my hand.
\n\u201cIs it cancer?\u201d
\nThe doctor didn\u2019t rush to reassure her.
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t know yet.\u201d
\nI hated him for that answer.
\nThen I respected him for it.
\n\u201cWe need additional testing before we can tell you exactly what we\u2019re dealing with,\u201d he continued. \u201cBut based on her symptoms and what we\u2019re seeing, I want her admitted tonight.\u201d
\nMy daughter turned toward me.
\n\u201cTonight?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nThe doctor leaned forward.
\n\u201cYou did the right thing bringing her in.\u201d
\nThe sentence nearly broke me.
\nBecause I hadn\u2019t brought her in soon enough.
\nSomeone else had.
\nFive weeks earlier.
\nHer father.
\nAnd then he had taken her home.
\n\u201cCould five weeks have made a difference?\u201d I asked.
\nThe room became painfully quiet.
\nThe doctor chose his words carefully.
\n\u201cEarlier follow-up would have been preferable.\u201d
\nMy daughter looked down.
\nI knew what she heard.
\nDad made this worse.
\nI squeezed her hand.
\n\u201cThis is not because of you.\u201d
\nShe nodded without looking up.
\nThe patient advocate asked if she could speak with me privately.
\nMy daughter immediately said, \u201cI want Mom here.\u201d
\nThe woman smiled gently.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s completely fine.\u201d
\nThen she asked my daughter something I never expected.
\n\u201cDo you feel safe going home with both of your parents?\u201d
\nMy husband had not touched us.
\nI wanted to say that.
\nI wanted to defend the version of my marriage I had believed in that morning.
\nInstead, I stayed silent.
\nMy daughter stared at the floor.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nThe word was barely audible.
\nBut everyone heard it.
\nThe woman nodded.
\n\u201cCan you tell me why?\u201d
\nMy daughter looked at me.
\n\u201cMom\u2019s going to hate me.\u201d
\nI moved closer.
\n\u201cThere is nothing you can tell me that will make me hate you.\u201d
\nHer face crumpled.
\n\u201cDad told me you\u2019d leave us if you found out.\u201d
\nI stopped breathing.
\n\u201cFound out what?\u201d
\nShe started crying again.
\n\u201cSweetheart, what did he tell you I\u2019d leave over?\u201d
\nShe shook her head violently.
\n\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cYou can.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nShe pulled her knees toward her chest.
\nThe patient advocate spoke softly.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not in trouble.\u201d
\nMy daughter stared at her.
\nThen she whispered something so quietly I almost missed it.
\n\u201cHe takes my medicine.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cWhat medicine?\u201d
\n\u201cThe pills.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat pills?\u201d
\n\u201cThe ones the clinic gave me.\u201d
\nThe doctor\u2019s expression changed.
\n\u201cWhat pills were you prescribed?\u201d
\nMy daughter looked confused.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. Dad kept them.\u201d
\nThe doctor stood and walked to the computer.
\nHe opened her previous visit.
\nI watched his face as he read.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.
\nHe didn\u2019t answer immediately.
\n\u201cWhat did they prescribe?\u201d
\nHe turned toward us.
\n\u201cA limited prescription for pain control.\u201d
\nMy stomach twisted.
\n\u201cWhy would my husband keep her medication?\u201d
\nMy daughter wiped her cheeks.
\n\u201cHe said I didn\u2019t need it.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd then what happened to it?\u201d
\nShe looked at me.
\n\u201cHe took it upstairs.\u201d
\nOur bedroom was upstairs.
\n\u201cWhat do you mean he took it upstairs?\u201d
\n\u201cI saw him with the bottle a few times.\u201d
\nThe patient advocate exchanged a look with the doctor.
\nMy phone started vibrating again.
\nMy husband.
\nI stared at his name glowing on the screen.
\nSuddenly, I didn\u2019t recognize it.
\nThe man calling me was the same man who had slept beside me every night.
\nThe same man who had kissed me goodbye that morning.
\nThe same man who had apparently known our daughter needed medical follow-up and had hidden it.
\nThe same man who had convinced a sick fifteen-year-old girl that her mother would blame her for getting sick.
\nI declined the call.
\nImmediately, a message appeared.
\nI know where you are.
\nMy blood turned cold.
\nA second message arrived.
\nDo not tell those doctors anything until I get there.
\nMy daughter saw it.
\nHer face went white.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s coming.\u201d
\nThe patient advocate stood.
\n\u201cWould you like hospital security notified?\u201d
\nBefore I could answer, my daughter grabbed my wrist.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\nI looked at her.
\nShe was shaking.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nShe glanced at the door.
\n\u201cI think Dad knew what the scan would show.\u201d
\nThe room went silent.
\nMy mouth went dry.
\n\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d
\n\u201cHe kept asking the first doctor if it could be caused by medicine.\u201d
\nThe doctor leaned forward.
\n\u201cWhat medicine?\u201d
\nMy daughter shook her head.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\n\u201cDid your father give you anything before your symptoms started?\u201d
\nShe hesitated.
\nAnd then I watched a memory surface across her face.
\nHer eyes widened.
\n\u201cOh.\u201d
\nI felt my pulse pounding in my throat.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThose vitamins.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat vitamins?\u201d
\n\u201cThe ones Dad started giving me.\u201d
\nI stared at her.
\n\u201cHe gave you vitamins?\u201d
\n\u201cEvery morning.\u201d
\n\u201cFor how long?\u201d
\n\u201cSince winter.\u201d
\nI knew nothing about vitamins.
\nI had never seen a bottle.
\nI had never watched her take them.
\n\u201cWhere did he keep them?\u201d
\n\u201cIn his office.\u201d
\nThe one room in our house he always kept locked.
\nMy daughter suddenly looked terrified.
\n\u201cHe told me they were for my skin.\u201d
\nThe doctor asked, \u201cDo you remember what they looked like?\u201d
\n\u201cLittle white capsules.\u201d
\n\u201cAny markings?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nMy phone buzzed again.
\nThis time the message was longer.
\nI opened it.
\nDo not make this into something it isn\u2019t. I handled it. She is fine. I\u2019m coming upstairs and we are leaving.
\nMy hands began trembling.
\nI looked at the doctor.
\n\u201cShe isn\u2019t leaving.\u201d
\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cShe isn\u2019t.\u201d
\nThe patient advocate stepped into the hallway to call security.
\nMy daughter clung to my hand.
\nWe heard voices outside.
\nFootsteps.
\nFast ones.
\nThen my husband\u2019s voice.
\n\u201cWhere is my daughter?\u201d
\nEvery muscle in my daughter\u2019s body tightened.
\nI stood between her and the door.
\nThe handle moved.
\nOnce.
\nTwice.
\nThen stopped.
\nSecurity must have intercepted him.
\nHis voice rose in the hallway.
\n\u201cI am her father!\u201d
\nA guard answered, but I couldn\u2019t make out the words.
\nMy husband shouted my name.
\nI had heard him angry hundreds of times.
\nI had never heard him sound desperate.
\nThen he said something that made the doctor slowly turn toward me.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t understand what they\u2019re going to find!\u201d
\nEverything outside the room went quiet.
\nEven my husband seemed to realize what he had just said.
\nMy daughter whispered, \u201cMom?\u201d
\nI couldn\u2019t answer.
\nThe doctor crossed the room and opened the door only a few inches.
\nMy husband was standing between two security officers.
\nHis face was pale.
\nNot angry anymore.
\nAfraid.
\nThe doctor stared at him.
\n\u201cWhat exactly are we going to find?\u201d
\nMy husband looked past him.
\nStraight at me.
\nAnd for the first time in eighteen years of marriage, I saw a man who had run out of explanations.
\nHe said my name softly.
\n\u201cPlease.\u201d
\nThat single word frightened me more than his shouting.
\nI stepped toward the doorway.
\n\u201cTell me.\u201d
\nHe shook his head.
\n\u201cNot here.\u201d
\n\u201cTell me what you gave her.\u201d
\nHis face changed.
\nMy daughter began crying behind me.
\nMy husband looked toward her.
\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t supposed to hurt her.\u201d
\nNobody moved.
\nI felt the blood drain from my face.
\n\u201cWhat wasn\u2019t supposed to hurt her?\u201d
\nHe opened his mouth.
\nBut before he could answer, the doctor\u2019s pager went off.
\nHe glanced down.
\nThen his expression changed completely.
\nHe looked at my daughter.
\nThen at me.
\n\u201cWe just received part of her bloodwork.\u201d
\nMy husband closed his eyes.
\nAs if he already knew.
\nThe doctor looked back at him.
\n\u201cYou need to tell me everything she\u2019s been taking.\u201d
\nMy husband whispered, \u201cI can explain.\u201d
\nThe doctor\u2019s voice hardened.
\n\u201cYou need to explain now.\u201d
\nAnd when my husband finally raised his eyes to mine, I understood something terrifying.
\nWhatever had been happening to my daughter had not started five weeks ago.
\nIt had started inside our own house.
\nAnd my husband knew exactly why\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

CLICK HERE CONTINUE TO READ PART 3 \u2013 My daughter stopped telling Dad about pain. The hospital revealed why she had suffered silently.<\/a><\/h5>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

PART 2 \u2014 THE SECRET HE MADE HER KEEP For several seconds, nobody in the room moved. My daughter\u2019s small nod seemed to fill every inch of space between us. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7146","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7146","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7146"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7146\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7149,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7146\/revisions\/7149"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7146"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7146"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7146"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}