On the edge of a quiet village stood a crooked little house with a rusted mailbox that hadn’t seen a letter in years. Inside lived old Mr. Ellery, who once wrote letters for everyone in town—love letters, farewell notes, apologies—each one sealed with his steady, graceful handwriting.

Now, with trembling hands and eyes dim with age, he wrote his final letter. It wasn’t for a client this time. It ...

Love is not being with each other all day love is not not about s3x love is not about talking 24/7 it’s about caring and being there for one another 🫠🫶🏻...

A single word beneath the sky,

I said it once, it learned to fly.

It touched the hills, returned to me—

Not quite the same, but still set free....

“I think I just met the happiest person in the world”

Her name is Marta. I bumped into her—literally—at the corner café on a gray Tuesday morning, the kind that smells like wet cement and missed opportunities. I was late for a meeting, juggling my laptop, an overfilled coffee cup, and the weight of a dozen unresolved emails, when she collided into me with a force far too cheerful for someone h...

When I say I love you,

I don’t mean only in soft moments—

not just in laughter under sunlit skies,

but in the quiet, heavy silences too.

In the pauses.

In the waiting.

I love you in the spaces between our words,

in the ache of goodbyes

and the hope of the next hello.

I love you in miles and memories,

in sleepless nights and dreaming eyes.

It’s not a love of fireworks—

but of steady flame.

Not lo...

Asal lived in Maryland . Edris was in Mazar-e-Sharif.

They met through a global education forum online. Asal had joined out of curiosity; Edris, out of passion. Their first conversation was about books. By the second week, it was about life. By the second month, they were part of each other’s days.

Mazar was quiet most nights, and Edris would sit under the stars on his family’s rooftop, phone in...