They will be out in full force, at the restaurants and malls, in cinemas, on the streets.

It will be impossible to miss them: females proudly carrying bouquets, males smugly bearing gifts of all shapes and sizes.

Collectively, they will make sure that more “I love you”s get written, articulated and exchanged in Singapore today than any other day this year.

Valentine’s Day and public declarations of affection, what a rush to the head, eh?

But in writing this week’s report, I discovered that the most amazing expressions of love often take place more quietly.

I met couples who show devotion not with chocolates and kisses, but with patience and forebearance, strength and tolerance, courage and restraint.

I found it in Siti Fatimah, who tirelessly looks after a once doting husband who has lost the ability to speak or move because of a stroke.

I saw it in the tears of frustration that course down the cheeks of Chong Tee Chye, who cannot articulate his love for Siti or their three children.

I also heard it in the tremulous voice of a 75-year-old retiree, as he recalls the quiet dignity of the woman who was his uncomplaining wife for 40 years. He lost her to cancer last year.

Love, they tell me, is not perfect. Nor is it easy.

It often requires sacrifice, and involves heartache and pain.

But a life touched by love, they say, will not be a life lived in vain.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Read Wong Kim Hoh's Saturday Special Report: Love will save the day.

Nothing unusual except that Watcharapong happens to be an orphan, and one who is HIV-positive to boot.

But Mean is cool about it. So are all of Watcharapong’s classmates who know about his condition too.

"I know how HIV is transmitted. We learn about it in school. I know I can't get it just hanging out with him. He's a cool guy," says Mean of his friend.

Seeing the two together made me very happy, both as a journalist and a human being.

In the course of my work, I've met enough Aids and HIV patients in Singapore to have a pretty good idea of how they are treated.

Many of them are forced to lead very invisible lives as they risk discrimination at work and in public.

I know of at least two men who have been forced to quit their jobs after they told their employers they are HIV-positive.

I've talked to a 63-year-old woman who was infected by her late husband.

Her youngest daughter - whom she put through university - moved out of their home, and would not sit with her at the same table in restaurants.

Sadly, many in Singapore still attach moral tags to the disease, and believe that folk living with the virus must be either sexually or morally deviant.

Unlike people, the disease does not discriminate. It can affect your brother, butcher, grandfather, teacher, neighbour or cousin.

The late Paddy Chew came out publicly to say he had Aids in Singapore more than a decade ago. Nobody has stepped forward since then. You can't blame them: the price is just too high.

It's a pity really. Because other than awareness and education, a human face to the disease is one of the most effective ways to battle the stigma associated with HIV.

I met many HIV-positive people like Watcharapong - who inherited the virus from his late mother - in Rayong. And I met just as many people like Mean who treated them no differently than they would any other human being.

This did not happen overnight. But the Thai government, doctors, social workers, activists and people living with Aids/HIV worked and are still working very hard, to fight the virus and the stigma associated with it.

If the Thais can do it, surely we can too?

Read Wong Kim Hoh's Saturday Special Report on Aids in today's edition of The Straits Times.

My teachers were unlikely ones: Transsexuals.

Yes, those folks whom some deride viciously or treat piteously.

I have to confess my own feelings toward them vacillated between awkwardness and fascination prior to doing this week's special report.

I might not stare but I would definitely steal more than a glance when I saw one in public.

Is he? Isn't she? How can? Why did? Alas, I never had a close transsexual friend who could answer all these superficial questions dancing in my head.

And then, over several weeks, I sat down with more than a dozen of them.

They told me about an existence I've wondered, but never really thought deeply, about.

What I learnt was sobering.

I may not be the most well-adjusted invididual in the world but I've never had to agonise about who I am and where I fit in the world.

I've never grappled with agonising confusion, debilitating guilt and searing shame.

I've never had to make decisions which would break the heart of my parents, shame loved ones and incur the derision of strangers.

And I've never encountered hopelessness so wrenching that I would want to kill myself.

They have, and lived to tell the tale.

I'm sobered and chastened by their courage to fight, live, and in some cases, continue living.

And I wish more of us will have the courage to stop judging them.

Read Wong Kim Hoh's Saturday Special Report on transsexuals in today's edition of The Straits Times.