Awkward Silence

Tahimik. Mahiwaga. Perpekto sa paningin ng lahat. Si Celestine “Celle” Alvarado ay lumaki sa mundo ng kapangyarihan at kontrol. Pero isang gabi ang tuluyang gumulo sa kanyang buhay — isang gabi ng takot, pagtakas, at isang aksidenteng hindi niya kailanman malilimutan. Pagkalipas ng ilang taon, sa isang wild na party sa BGC, nakilala niya si Lorenzo “Renzo” Navarro — isang successful at guwapong businessman na may hawak ding mabigat na nakaraan. May galit siya sa dibdib, at isang misyon: hanapin ang taong muntik nang pumatay sa kanyang kapatid. Hindi nila alam, sa pagitan ng mapusok na halik at mainit na gabi, nakatali na pala ang mga puso nila sa isang trahedyang pinagtagpo sila noon pa man. Sa pagitan ng kasalanan at pagnanasa… Sa pagitan ng katotohanan at pag-ibig… Pipiliin ba nilang lumaban o tuluyang lamunin ng mga alon sa katahimikan?

William Smith has always lived in shadows — the shadow of his abusive father, the shadow of a country where being gay can cost you fifteen years of your life, and the shadow of secrets he compulsively writes in his journal. At home, danger lurks everywhere; a series of unexplained, targeted attacks on his family forces dark truths to the open. At Aton College, he’s juggling too much: Jasmine, the girlfriend who deserves the truth; Timothy, the best friend whose touch is both temptation and betrayal; and Alexander, the fearless new student who refuses to hide who he is. His double life begins to unravel. Every choice pulls him closer to exposure — and in a world where love is dangerous, one mistake could destroy him.

Seavora City, Carmoria. Nathan Ziegler's side chick, Sophie, was melting down—again. He shoved the divorce papers at me. "Just sign. It's for show. Gotta keep her calm." I clutched my dress, gave a small nod, and signed. No fuss. No scene. As I turned to leave, one of his buddies snorted, "Joelle's way too obedient. Bet she'd fetch the divorce decree if you asked." Nathan lit a cigarette, smirking. "Wanna bet?" To them, I was still the silent pushover. The girl who'd cry in court but still do what she's told. Trade one paper for another—marriage for divorce. I stared at my phone. The message I'd received earlier: [Why don't you just marry me?] I typed back: [Okay.]

The first thing he takes from me is air. A hand crashes over my mouth, ripping me backward into a darkness so sudden my mind stutters. My scream dies against his palm. My feet leave the ground. My heartbeat slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. “Stop fighting,” he says, his voice a low, controlled threat against my ear. Not shouted. Not rushed. Certain. I claw at his arm anyway. It doesn’t matter. “This is day one,” he whispers. He forces me onto my knees, my breath splintering in sharp, humiliating bursts. His fingers hook under my jaw, lifting my face so I have to see him.. cold eyes, steady rage, a man carved from hatred with a purpose. “You were born into the wrong blood,” he says. “And now you’ll pay for every sin it spilled.” His thumb drags across my trembling lips, testing, measuring. A reminder he owns every choice I have left. “You’ll beg,” he promises. “Not for mercy. For the end.” And something inside me sinks, cold and final. From this moment on, nothing is mine. Not breath. Not choice. Not time. ⸻ Luna Vitiello is the silent daughter of a devil. To the world, a pampered princess. In truth, a girl who has bled in silence for nineteen years. But the man who takes her doesn’t care. To him, she isn’t a victim; she’s the enemy. A living vessel for her father’s sins, a debt meant to be paid in pain. He thinks he’s breaking a spoiled queen. He doesn’t realize he’s crushing a girl who was already broken.

Août 2018, sans s’annoncer, Éric s’arrête au Conssé, l’affaire de quelques minutes... Le Conssé ? Cela fait quinze ans, qu’il n’y a pas mis les pieds ! La vieille maison appartient à Clémentine de Boisin. À quatre-vingt-dix-huit ans, bon-pied, bon-œil, « Tante Clém » est l’âme de la demeure. L’été, elle y accueille sa famille. Le reste de l’année, elle y vit retirée au milieu des souvenirs. Une photo datée de 1942, retrouvée par accident, s’invite. Que vient faire ici, le mystérieux sourire figé sur pellicule, issu d’une époque troublée ? Face à Éric, la porte du grenier s’entrouvre... Emmanuel de Scorraille , diplômé de l’enseignement supérieur, est un romancier passionné d’histoire, de culture et de littérature. Le silence de la terre est une fiction historique, inspirée de l’actualité. « Que s’est-il passé le 27 novembre 2018 ? »

Ma demi-sœur m’a accusée à tort d’être responsable de ses allergies, et, dans un accès de rage, mes trois frères m’ont enfermée dans une cave exiguë, sans lumière ni air. Ils ont même enchaîné la porte. J’ai frappé la porte de la cave, suppliant de toutes mes forces qu’on me laisse sortir. Alors que le frère aîné, un homme d’affaires d’élite, s’apprêtait à partir, une froide colère se lisait sur son visage : « Tu as l’habitude de maltraiter Zoé dans de petites histoires, mais je n’ai pas l’intention de t’embêter pour ça. Cette fois, tu savais que Zoé était allergique aux fruits de mer, et malgré cela, tu l’as laissée en manger. N’est-ce pas là une malveillance délibérée ? Tu ferais bien de réfléchir à ce que tu as fait ! » Le deuxième frère, récemment couronné Roi des Chants, et le troisième, un peintre talentueux, ont grogné : « Une personne aussi perfide que toi, qui trouve toujours des excuses, tu vas rester là-dedans, et que cela te serve de leçon ! » Après avoir dit ces mots, ils ont pris ma demi-sœur, tremblante, dans leurs bras et se sont précipités à l’hôpital. Peu à peu, l’air dans la cave se raréfiait. Chaque respiration devenait un combat. La suffocation m’a envahie, et bientôt, tout ce que j’avais ressenti s’est transformé en un calme absolu. Je suis morte, seule, dans cet espace clos. Trois jours plus tard, lorsqu’ils sont revenus de l’hôpital avec ma demi-sœur, ils se sont souvenus enfin de moi. Mais ils ont ignoré que, dans l’obscurité de cette cave étouffante, j’avais déjà succombé au manque d’oxygène.

Tiana Greene arrives on Lycan Isle with nothing but a suitcase, a scarred past, and a desperate need for work. When she is hired as a maid in the sprawling cliff-side mansion of Ross Lycan – the island’s reclusive billionaire – she expects long hours, strict rules, and silence. What she does not expect is the man himself: cold as the steel in his voice, brutally private, and carrying a shadow in his gaze that keeps everyone at arm’s length. Rumours whisper through the island of former staff fleeing in fear, of Ross’s cruelty, and of the mysteriously vanished brother whose memory haunts the mansion halls. Tiana tries to keep her distance, but every forbidden glance and accidental touch tightens the invisible thread pulling them together. When a near-fatal accident on the cliffs pushes Ross into her life more violently than either of them intended, the dynamic shifts. Ross grows protective yet distant, drawn to Tiana in ways he cannot accept – while she fights her own confusion over the man beneath the frost. As the annual island festival approaches, tensions rise. Tiana becomes a target for the island’s elite women, whose humiliation of her sparks a dangerous, possessive reaction in Ross. Social pressure thickens, rumours spread, and the boundaries of employer and servant begin to blur into something darker, deeper, and irresistibly intimate. But everything changes the night Tiana slips into a forbidden study and uncovers the truth about Ross’s past – a past woven with loss, guilt, and secrets buried beneath the island’s stormy surface. Now she must decide. Can she love a man built from shadows? And can Ross love someone brave enough to walk into the darkness he’s spent years trying to hide?

My father is the First Warrior of the Moonflash pack. He often takes me to all kinds of banquets, and I always look forward to them. Today, he brings me to a banquet hosted by Judy. I take a bite of raw meat on my plate and immediately spit it out. I once ate raw meat when I was younger, and my stomach hurt for several days. I nearly died. The healer later told me that I'm allergic to the protein in raw meat, and that experience left a lasting impression on me. Judy looks hurt when she sees my reaction. "I went to the forest myself to catch that reindeer," she says. "I killed it just this morning. I didn't cook it so that I wouldn't ruin its freshness. I didn't expect Ray would turn her nose up at it." Dad is angry about how rude I am, so he chases me out of the banquet and locks me up in a cramped lounge. The lounge is hot and stuffy, and I soon start finding it hard to breathe. A sharp pain twists in my stomach like a knife. I want to find Dad, but no matter how much I bang on the door, he refuses to open it. Through the window, I can see Dad and Judy standing in the center of the hall. They're conversing happily, but no one even looks in my direction. I'm suffocating, so I lie on the floor. I want to shout for Dad, but I can't make a sound no matter how hard I try. Then, I realize that I'm standing up and can walk through the door. But why is my body still lying on the floor? That's when it hits me. I'm dead.

In the midst of the darkness of my soul, I have found Chiara Bianchi, a withered flower. I am Wolfgang Krüger, a cruel and heartless man. Seeking revenge, I kidnap Chiara, determined to make her suffer as her uncle has made my family suffer. But Chiara is much more than a defenseless victim. I discover that her beauty hides a deep pain, and her silence tells me stories I could never imagine. Chiara is mute, trapped in a world where words cannot escape her lips. The torture I had planned for her turns into a dangerous game, an internal struggle that I cannot control. Every day, I find myself watering her withered garden, wishing to bring life back to her face and challenging my own cruel instincts.

I used to be that girl in the mafia—envied, untouchable. Orlando Leone, the big bad Don everyone feared, had eyes only for me. I took a bullet for him. After that? People whispered I couldn't have kids. He tried to shut them up by knocking me up—ninety-nine tries. Try number ten? His shiny new secretary texted, all confused over a decimal. He bailed on me. By thirty, she crashed his sports car while shopping. Claimed she couldn't park. I was left freezing in a bathtub. He said he loved me, but when it counted, he always picked the girl who played dumb and helpless. That's when it hit me—his love was never really mine. And by the time I disappeared for real, he lost his mind looking. Too bad. Me and that promise? Already buried at sea.