Vacation Leave Sample Letter

Maria Josephina Constancia L. Osmeña can get whatever she wants. Will she be able to get the man of her life?

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?

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.”*

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.

A girl trying to survive the cruelty of the world and a man looking for peace and purpose. They are bound to meet and fulfill the promise they made from their past life; that they will cross different lifetimes to find each other until their love find its way home. A brave soldier and an extraordinary girl lived a chaotic love story in the middle of a war. An activist and a doctor, a love that rose between the pavements amidst the Martial Law. And a story of a boy and a girl who's trying to look for a reason to survive and hold on to their lives. Three different stories in three different lifetimes of the same people who chose to love and chase it until they're finally home.

There's this unspoken rule in werewolf high society: no matter how tight the mate bond is, business banquets mean booking a hostess. Six years into our bond, my Alpha mate—Brian Stormclaw—met one. Louise. A scrappy Omega with too much pride and not enough sense. When he offered her his black card, she pushed it back and said, "I'm not some Alpha's pampered pet." Brian? Instantly hooked. Like the Moon Goddess herself had dropped her in his lap. He chased her like he wanted her mark on every pack crest. But he forgot something—I was the Luna he wrote ninety-nine love letters to before I said yes. I didn't beg. Didn't snap. Every time he chose her over me, I lit another letter. First one burned on our anniversary—he bailed to wait outside Louise's flower shop, just to walk her home. Letter thirty-four? He left me stranded in a dangerous hunting ground to keep her company. Said she was scared of the dark. Fifty-two? Torched the second he replaced our wedding photo with some sketch she made on. ... And when the ninety-ninth turned to ash, so did whatever was left of us. I walked away. For good.

Si Rosanne Oliveros ay isang anonymous writer sa isang writing platform. Ikinagulat na lamang niya isang araw nang may magkagusto sa kaniyang anonymous writing persona. At mapaglaro nga naman ang tadhana dahil ang taong may gusto sa kaniya ay nagugustuhan ng kaniyang kapatid. Dahil doon ay gumawa ng plano ang kapatid niya at nagkunwaring siya; ginamit ng kapatid niya ang kaniyang anonymous writing persona para mapansin ng lalaki. Niloko nilang dalawa ang lalaking inosente. Hindi man agree sa bagay na iyon ay wala nang nagawa pa si Rosanne dahil naipit siya sa mga utang na loob sa kapatid. Ano ang gagawin niya? Paninindigan na lang ba niya at kukunsintihin ang panloloko ng kapatid? Subaybayan ang kuwento ni Rosanne Oliveros tungo sa pagpapakatotoo.

A Werewolf's Vow: Mated by the Letter To my dearest stranger, My day has been so tough to the point that I almost wanted to end my life. Wanted to slash my throat with a knife, drink and eat something with poison, or even planned to drown myself. Why was the world so mean to me? Why is my life this miserable? And why can they just leave me alone? I can't take it anymore. I only wanted to live a normal life, away from humiliation, deprivation, and bad luck. So, I'm writing this letter, thinking you might hear me out. Funny, but this is the only way I could express my thoughts. And for the record, this has been my eighth and final letter to send off. And whoever you are, it was nice meeting you. Hopefully, when you get the chance to read this letter, you'd send me something in response. For us to know each other better. I'll be waiting. Love, Joshua Craig.

I was just the mate of the Alpha fated mate and the nanny to my child, not his Luna. I dedicated my life to him, but he never loved me—this was all because I was just a wolfless omega. Until his ex returned, everyone, including my mate and even my child, looked down on me. Everyone believed she should be the Luna. I turned and walked out of the house, choosing to live for myself. Three months later, I became the world’s most renowned white wolf healer, appearing on television. Son (shocked): "Dad, is that... my mom on TV?"

On the day of my wedding, the video I had painstakingly prepared was suddenly replaced with intimate photos of my fiancé and my foster sister, Lindsey Remmington. Within minutes, it hit the top of the trending list. Overnight, I, a celebrated actress, became the abandoned bride of a wealthy family and a public laughingstock. Just when I thought I'd reached rock bottom, Connor Presley, the heir of Elluel City's most powerful family and the boy I'd grown up with, returned from abroad. In front of flashing cameras, he knelt with a diamond ring and proposed, silencing every rumor and every sneer. After we married, we appeared inseparable, our affection the picture of perfection. The only flaw was his infertility—his condition made it nearly impossible for me to conceive. For three long years, I underwent countless rounds of IVF. At last, I became pregnant. Connor was overjoyed. To celebrate, he threw an extravagant party in honor of our long-awaited child. But in the middle of the revelry, one of his closest friends, drunk and unguarded, muttered in Russian, "Connor, you've gone too far. Just because Lindsey was afraid pregnancy would ruin her figure, you put the zygote into Rachel's body and let her carry the baby for you two? If she ever finds out the truth, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Connor's expression didn't waver. "This was Lindsey's only wish. I had to grant it," he replied coolly. "Besides, having a child with Lindsey has always been my dream. Only her child deserves to be the heir of the Presley family. The days ahead are long—I'll make it up to Rachel, eventually." I stood frozen, my body trembling uncontrollably. That night, I made an appointment for an abortion. When Connor stormed into the hospital, raging like a madman, I looked up at him with chilling calm and said, "I understand Russian."