Upper Case Letter Artinya

Umibig si Zoey Trisha Ramos sa isang playboy na si Edrick Kurt Lim. Labing-pitong taong gulang pa lamang noon si Trisha, isang freshman sa isang kilalang Unibersidad samantalang dalawampu’t dalawang taong gulang na noon si Edrick, graduating na ito at isang heartthrob. Sa simula pa lamang ay alam na ni Trisha na maling umibig sa isang playboy ngunit kahit sya mismo ay hindi napigilan ang puso nya sa pagtibok. Nangako ang isang playboy na magbabago ito at hinding hindi nya sasaktan ang babae ngunit dumating na nga ang araw na kinatatakutan ni Trisha. Ito ang araw na iniwan sya ni Edrick at nakipaghiwalay sa mismong araw ng graduation nito. Nalaman ni Trisha na paalis na rin ito ng bansa, dahil maraming katanungan ang hindi nasagot nag madaling pumunta si Trisha sa airport at ganoon na lamang ang tagpong naabutan nya, tila naman binibiyak ang kanyang puso sa nakikita ng dalawang mata nya sa harap mismo nya. Habang masayang masaya ito hindi man lang alam ni Edrick na may isang taong sobrang nasasaktan at nasasaksihan ang kaganapan na iyon. Samantalang parang na estatwa naman si Trisha sa kanyang kinatatayuan at hindi na nya nagawang lapitan si Edrick hanggang sa namalayan nya na lang na papalayo na ito sakanya na kasama ang isang babae. Makalipas ang limang na taon ay bumalik ang lalaki sa Pilipinas. Laking gulat nila na sa pag balik nito ay sya na ang naging substitute professor nila. Gagawin lahat ni Edrick mabawi lang nya ulit ang tanging babaeng minahal nya. Nasaktan nya ito ng sobra kaya sa kahit anong paraan ay babawiin nya ito at pinangako sa sariling hinding hindi nya na muli itong iiwanan at sasaktan pa. Muli nga kaya syang bigyan ng pangalawang pagkakataon ni Trisha? Maging pamilyar pa kaya ang mga puso nila sa LOVE?

Annie Halden was the exact definition of a wallflower. She lived on the sidelines, didn't like attention and worried too much. She wrote letters to herself as her way to get her thoughts out. She never told anyone or let anyone see. Leo Smith, one of the school star athletes and most popular boys, found one of her letters. He started breaking into her locker to read the letters every time there was a new one. He grew concerned about her and wanted to protect her, he wanted to know why she was so broken and who hurt her, he wanted her to know he was there for her - be her shoulder to lean on. How would this friendship work out with Annie being as shy and quiet as she is, never getting close to anyone? How would this friendship last if Annie came to find out the truth about Leo stealing and reading her personal letters?

No momento em que Luana Tavares perdeu o bebê, Henrique Ribeiro estava comemorando o retorno de Bianca Monteiro ao país. Três anos ao lado dele—cuidando, se dedicando, sendo parceira—no fim, pra ele, Luana era só uma empregada e cozinheira dentro de casa. Ela se cansou, perdeu a esperança, e decidiu se divorciar. No círculo deles, todo mundo sabia: Luana era famosa por ser igual chiclete, difícil de desgrudar. — Eu aposto que em um dia a Luana volta correndo. — Um dia? Meio dia já é máximo. — Disse Henrique. Assim que assinou o divórcio, Luana decidiu: nunca mais olhar pra trás. Se jogou na nova vida, correu atrás da carreira deixada de lado, se ocupou em conhecer gente nova. Dia após dia, Henrique já não via nem sombra dela em casa. Quando o desespero bateu, numa conferência, Henrique finalmente a viu—ela estava cercada de gente, diferente de antes. Ele foi direto: — Luana, até quando você vai continuar com essa palhaçada?! Dante Siqueira entrou na frente, empurrou Henrique com frieza: — Não encosta na sua cunhada. Henrique nunca amou Luana. E, quando finalmente aprendeu a amar, ela já não tinha mais espaço pra ele.

I served; I did what I needed to do, but it wasn't good enough. I sat chained in a dark room for nearly 3 hard, painful years, trying my best to keep myself protected and together when all I wanted to do was crumble under the pain and loss of my self-worth and ability to defend myself. There was never an even fight. It was them against me. Tied up. My brother is my life. We are Twins, and when I found out that he had died even though I tried my best to keep him alive and save him, My whole world fell to pieces. I'm a fighter; I don't back down so easily. I fight for what I believe in, but his death brings me to my knees and makes me feel as though I am drowning. His best friend is there to pick me back up. He makes me feel safe and loved, even when I can't love or forgive myself. He shows up even when I don't want him to, and he proves that he is there. Encourages me to take that leap and believe in myself. But can I really do this? Can I live even without my brother here?

Nicolas Navarro me pediu em casamento sessenta e seis vezes em sessenta e seis viagens diferentes. Na sexagésima sétima, meu coração finalmente cedeu. No dia seguinte ao casamento, entreguei a ele sessenta e seis cartões de perdão. Um acordo silencioso: toda vez que ele me irritasse, poderia usar um para ser perdoado. Seis anos se passaram. Toda vez que a amiga de infância dele entrava entre nós, um cartão desaparecia. Quando restavam apenas dois, Nicolas finalmente notou. E era tarde demais para fingir que nada havia mudado.

I was diagnosed with Neurogenic Wolf Spirit Atrophy. In half a month, I would be dead. The day I received the diagnosis, I decided to give up treatment and donate my body to the Central Research Institute after my death. Through the mind link, I reached out to my brother, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, hoping he would help me sign the papers. He sneered and cut off the link without any hesitation. With the Spirit Severance Donation Contract, a formal waiver of my right to have my wolf spirit returned to my pack's sacred grounds after death, I crossed countless territories alone to the high-ranking city where he resided. He had been promoted to commander of the Silverfang Patrol, basking in glory. He casually signed the document without even looking at me, then said with chilling indifference, “Don’t ever come to me again. Given how ungrateful you are, I can't be bothered to give you a proper burial." I nodded lightly. “I understand.” He did not know that the money for his treatments in the past years had come from me. Now, there were only seven days left until my death.

Amilia Geralds was living her normal life. She was already struggling through college plus her part-time work at a diner to support herself. All is well, almost. Not until she encountered a monster. She shouldn't be so surprised to see it but something told her that it was not like the others. The others were, thankfully, not after her life. But this one is. She should run away but then she found herself running toward danger. All Rights Reserve 2020

Sixteen-year-old Ava never expected her future to show up in the form of a letter. When she discovers a mysterious envelope slipped under her bedroom door—written in handwriting that looks eerily like her own—she brushes it off as a cruel prank. But the message inside is impossible to ignore: Tomorrow, do not take the shortcut home. If you do, he will never wake up. The next day, Ava changes her routine. And in doing so, she prevents a tragedy that could have cost her best friend his life. More letters arrive, each warning her of choices she hasn’t made yet—choices that will unravel family secrets, test her friendships, and place her in the middle of a dangerous puzzle only she can solve. With every decision, Ava begins to wonder if the future she’s trying to protect is already written… or if she has the power to change it.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*

My suitcase, filled with precious and expensive birthday gifts, was mistakenly claimed by another person at the airport. When I opened the one left behind, I found it packed with men’s clothes instead of my belongings. Determined to retrieve what was rightfully mine, I went on a frantic search for the man who had taken my suitcase. When I finally confronted him and politely asked for an exchange, he responded with the gentlest of tones: “Oh, I opened it and realized I’d made a mistake—it’s all women’s items.” I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to thank him and express my gratitude. Then he added casually, “I couldn’t use any of those things, so I sorted them out and gave them to my girlfriend. You’re welcome.” My jaw dropped. I could barely muster a response as I muttered under my breath, “What the hell?”