Why should we be together? - Alice

Lee met Alice at a salsa class. She was beautiful, confident, accomplished. A high achiever at work with many admirers.

Lee pursued her with intensity. He said yes to what she wanted. Made himself available. Prioritised her needs.

She chose him.
Their relationship had a particular rhythm. She focused on her demanding career. He made sure her life ran smoothly. She made decisions. He supported them.
Lee was content with this arrangement. It worked for both of them.

When Chinese New Year came around, Lee brought Alice home for the festival.
Women of the family, including in-laws, gathered in the kitchen to prepare food together for the celebration.
But she sat at the dining table, laptop open, rushing to meet a work deadline.

"Can you bring me some water?" Alice asked Lee.
He did.
Lee's parents watched. Their disapproval was clear. They did not like what they saw.

Sharp comments followed.
About modern women. About respect. About what proper behaviour should look like.
Lee did not know what to say. The tension built throughout the day.

Alice finally closed her laptop. Looked at Lee. Then at his parents.
"I have had enough," she said. "Why should we be together?"

She ended the engagement.

I thought they were my friends too. - Maya

Maya had been dating Ryan for three years. Through him, she met his group of friends, a close circle who had all connected through an online gaming platform years ago.

Maya spent a lot of time with them. They went to restaurants together. Came over to each other's houses for parties and gatherings. Celebrated birthdays. Game nights. Weekend trips.

She brought food to their events. Remembered their inside jokes. Listened to their stories. Shared her own.

They seemed to welcome her. They laughed at her jokes. They included her in group chats. They asked how her week was going.

For three years, Maya thought these were her friends too. Not just Ryan's friends. Hers.

Then Ryan ended the relationship. He no longer wanted to be with her. Maya was heartbroken.

A few people from the group reached out. "Hey, how are you doing?" "Are you okay?" The messages were kind. Concerned. Maya appreciated them.

But as the weeks passed, the invitations stopped coming. The group still met for game nights. Still went to restaurants. Still had gatherings. Without her.

She saw the photos on social media. Everyone together, laughing, the way they used to when she was there.

The concern had been genuine. But the friendship had limits.

She had only ever been Ryan's girlfriend. When he left, her spot at the table disappeared too.

Was I part of the family? - Mei Hua

Mei Hua came from a generation where women were expected to hold the household together, and she took that role seriously. She was a foreigner and left her family-of-origin to set up home here.

For decades, she was the one who organised family gatherings. She remembered every birthday, every anniversary, every celebration. She made the phone calls. Sent the invitations. Planned the menus. Coordinated schedules.

When the family came together, it was because Mei Hua made it happen. She did the administrative work. The logistical planning. The emotional labor of keeping everyone connected.

The family gatherings were warm and full. Uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws. Everyone laughing, eating, catching up. Year after year.

One day, Mei Hua fell sick. A terminal illness that left her weak and largely housebound.

The extended family stayed away. They had superstitious beliefs around sickness. They worried about evil spirits, about bad luck jumping from her onto them. They feared that coming into contact with her would make them fall sick too.

So they did not visit. They did not call as often. They kept their distance.

Mei Hua, too weak to organise gatherings anymore, stopped doing so. Without her doing the heavy lifting, the gatherings stopped happening.

Mei Hua watched from her bed as the family she had worked so hard to hold together simply drifted apart. And drifted away from her.

Now, in her illness, she had only her husband and her children by her side. All her in-laws had disappeared.

She wondered if she was ever truly considered family.

I need more than beautiful words. - Alex

Alex found a faith community that welcomed her. She joined a small group of people who met fortnightly for study and fellowship.

In the beginning, she was cautious. Being a transgender woman in faith spaces hadn't always been safe. But this group seemed different.

"How's your week going?" they would ask warmly. "How’re you doing?"

People checked in between meetings. Sent messages. Asked deep questions.

The gatherings were homely affairs. People brought dishes from family recipes. They ate together, laughed together, shared what mattered to them.

Over time, Alex began to share more vulnerably. Her fears about employment discrimination. Her dreams of reconciling faith and identity. The loneliness of being misunderstood.

The group listened. They nodded. They said encouraging things.

Alex contributed too. She brought her grandmother's cookies. She offered support. She showed up consistently, week after week, month after month.

Years passed. She felt like she belonged.

Then Alex became seriously ill and was hospitalized.

The group chat lit up with beautiful words:
"Thinking of you!"
"Hope you recover quickly!"
"You're in our thoughts!"
"Sending love and healing!"

Messages poured in. Hearts and emojis. Encouraging words.
But nobody came.

Alex lay in the hospital bed, scrolling through the messages.
She waited. Surely someone would visit?
They shared meals for years. They heard her deepest fears. They knew she had no family nearby.

Days passed. More messages arrived. More well wishes typed out on phones.
But the hospital room remained empty except for nurses and doctors.

When Alex was finally discharged, weak and alone, she arranged her own transport home. She managed her own recovery. She sat in her flat, reading the group's cheerful messages about how glad they were she was "on the mend".

She realised something:
They had included her in their space. They had listened to her stories. They had eaten her food and let her eat theirs.
But when inclusion meant actually showing up, physically present, inconvenienced, the acceptance had limits.
She had been welcome at the table. Just not welcome enough to visit in hospital.

Alex stopped attending the group. When they asked why, she said she needed time to recover.
They understood. They sent more messages. More well wishes.

But nobody came to her door either.

Am I only worth what I earn? - Lisa

Lisa's father had suffered a stroke.

Her mother spoke to her about caregiving.

Lisa works in the arts industry. She loves her work. Creating, collaborating, bringing ideas to life. The pay isn't high, but it feeds her soul.

Her mother laid out the plan. "I can't possibly care for your father alone. And I don't want a helper in the house."

"Your siblings are earning more," her mother continued. "It makes sense for you to give up your job. You earn so little."

"Employing a helper for your father would cost about the same as what you take home anyway." Her mother's voice was matter-of-fact, logical. "So you've got to give up your job."

Lisa opened her mouth. Then closed it.
Her siblings, both in finance, both with families of their own, would continue their careers. Their higher salaries meant they were too “valuable” to interrupt.

But Lisa, quantified only by salary, was found lacking.

Her mother shrugged, dismissing her silence. "You can always find another job. Art jobs are everywhere."

What does duty really mean? - Giu

Giu is an elderly gentleman in his eighties caring for his even older mother, who is nearly one hundred years old, at home.

Giu is the only living child, unmarried, and lives with his mother. He has done so his entire life.

He struggles to care for her. She is prone to falls.

Although he is retired and often at home, picking her up from the ground each time she falls has worsened Giu's physical aches and pains. His back screams. His knees protest. Some days, he wonders if he'll be able to get her up at all.

His mother has expressed that she does not wish to go to a nursing home. In their culture, elders are cared for at home. It would be a disgrace to send her away. What would people say?

When Giu explained to her that he was also old and in need of care, his mother dismissed him.

"I am older than you!" she said. "You're still young compared to me."
As her son, he was responsible for caring for her until her passing. That was his duty. That was what good sons do.

Giu had heard this all his life.

Giu sits in his chair at night, body aching, thinking:
He’s elderly… and getting frail.
And he is still the child expected to serve.

It’s hard being filial. - Joanne

Kim Choo and her husband expect their daughter, Joanne, to entertain them. Plan exciting travels. Research restaurants. Book hotels. Organise day trips.

When activities don't meet their expectations, they are harsh.

"Why did you pick such a restaurant? The food is terrible."
"Why did you choose this place of interest? I don't like this and that."

Kim Choo and her husband also expect Joanne to listen to their bitterness and resentment toward their siblings. Long phone calls filled with complaints. Joanne is expected to be available when they call.

Joanne works very hard to meet these expectations. She researches extensively. Plans meticulously.
When her parents say she's done a good job, she feels relieved. The anxiety lifts, briefly.
However, criticism comes all too easily. Joanne is anxious and miserable most of the time.

Kim Choo and her husband, however, are happy for a short while when their expectations are met. Then the cycle begins again.

Occasionally, Joanne tries to suggest changes to their dynamics:
"Mum, Dad, is it okay if you check out the travel agencies and make some decisions on where to go?"
"Is it okay if we don't talk about uncles and aunties anymore? Maybe you can talk to them directly?"

Kim Choo's response is immediate. "I carried you for nine months! I gave up my career for you! Because of you, I did not develop myself."

Her husband adds, "I spent so much money on you. Do you know how much food you ate? Do you know how expensive your education is? If it were not for you, I would have lived a stress-free life. I might have gotten myself a sports car!"

Joanne feels the familiar weight settle on her chest. Guilt. Obligation. The sense that she owes them her entire life.

She stops suggesting changes. She continues planning their trips. Listening to their complaints. Being available when they call.

She wonders: When will it be enough? When will she have repaid the debt of being born?

It was big sister duty. - Siew Lan

Siew Lan could only go to school when her younger brother could finally attend school.

The parents reasoned that the older sister could also care for the younger brother if they attended school together. Siew Lan would walk him there, make sure he ate his lunch, and walk him home.

She was seven. He was six.

When her brother entered into higher levels of education, Siew Lan was told to drop out of school to work. She was needed to help put him through school.

Siew Lan’s wages went directly to her brother's school fees, textbooks, and extra tuition.

The parents tried to compensate for her time and labour by telling the younger brother that he should always provide for his sister.

"Remember, Siew Lan sacrificed for you. You must take care of her when you're successful."

The younger brother nodded. However, this was not legally stipulated. It would be done based on the younger son's goodwill.

Her brother graduated with a degree. Found a good job. Got married. Started a family.

She never married. Who would want a woman with little education and barely any savings?

Am I his girlfriend or his secret? - Kirsty

Kirsty was dating Joe.

At least, she thought she was.

Joe didn't want her to call him her "boyfriend." He explained that he was in a complicated relationship status with his ex, and he didn't want to hurt her.

"We should be more discreet," he said. "Just until she gets over me."

Kirsty understood. She didn't want to be the person who caused someone pain. Joe's ex was still hurting, and rushing into something public felt cruel.

"We can't attend gatherings together," Joe told her. "It would hurt my ex if she found out. She's still fragile."

Kirsty nodded. She declined invitations where Joe might be mentioned. She kept their relationship off social media. She told her friends vague things like "I'm seeing someone" without details.

But Joe would like to hold her hands. Hug her. Kiss her. In private.

"When she's emotionally stronger, we can be public," he promised. "I just need to give her time."

Weeks turned into months. Kirsty waited. She kept their relationship hidden. She watched couples post photos together, wishing she could post one of her and Joe too.

One evening, a friend casually mentioned seeing Joe at a party. "He seemed really friendly with some woman. Are you two still together?"

Kirsty felt sick. Joe hadn't mentioned any party.

The biggest question that kept her awake at night: Was she actually Joe's girlfriend? Or was she the secret he kept while keeping his options open?

Six months in, Kirsty finally asked directly. "When exactly will your ex be ready? What does that even look like?"

Joe became defensive. "I can't put a timeline on someone else's healing. I thought you understood. I thought you cared about not hurting people."

I thought he was safe. - Alan

Alan was in his mid-twenties when he was attempting to understand his liking for other men.

He was invited to a party at a rented house by a school mate. It felt like an opportunity. A space where he might find people who understood.

During the party, he was introduced to a much older man with a heavy build, who generously brought bottles of alcoholic drinks for everyone.

It was not long before everyone was heavily inebriated.

Alan enjoyed the conversations with the party goers. He was beginning to warm up to the older man, who was seen as an older brother within this social group. Someone who looked out for people. Someone safe.

Late in the night, while the party was still ongoing, the older man asked Alan if he would like to check out what was on the second floor of the house.

Alan said yes without hesitation. He thought they were just exploring. Maybe talking more privately.

He was led upstairs.

Alan was assaulted while he was in a state of shock. His body froze. He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't process what was happening.

The next morning, Alan sat at the same breakfast table with his friends and the older man as if nothing had happened.

He laughed at the jokes cracked at the table. Passed the syrup for the waffles. Helped clean the dishes.

Everyone parted ways with pleasant words. "We should all meet up again soon!"

Alan smiled. Nodded. Said goodbye.

Inside, he felt empty. Blank.

I brought it on myself. - Gaby

Gaby's friend brought her stargazing to celebrate her seventeenth birthday. He brought some alcoholic drinks as part of the celebration.

Emboldened by the alcohol, this friend confessed his feelings for her while they were lying down and looking up at the skies.

While she was processing what he said, he leaned over and placed his upper body over hers, and kissed her on her lips.

Gaby, her response speed compromised by alcohol, took a while to react. She pushed him away.

Shaken, she ran off to meet her partner, George, sharing the gist of what had happened.

George was incensed. But not at her friend. At her.

"How could you let yourself be in that position?" he demanded.

Later that night, while Gaby's head was still spinning from the earlier drinking, George ignored her protests. He pushed past their usual boundaries amidst feelings of intense jealousy.

The next morning, George confronted a more sober Gaby about what had happened with her friend.

They had conversations around how she should have set better boundaries to better protect their relationship. How she had been careless. How she had put herself in a vulnerable situation.

Gaby listened. She told herself that the pain she experienced that night was a gift to appease George, who was generally sensible and loving.

Men are supposed to want it, right? - Roland

Roland was a high flyer in his thirties and known in his industry. Newly divorced from a marriage of many years, he was apprehensive about entering into another relationship.

Once, after a networking event on a Friday night, he and his friends segued to a nearby club with a few ladies from another agency.

One of the women, Rei, had a crush on Roland.

The group spent the evening playing drinking games, with group-prescribed penalties that were increasingly physical as they became more inebriated.

When the group called it a night, Roland and Rei shared a cab back. She said she was staying in the same area.

In the cab, she requested to stay with Roland till morning. "I don't want to disturb my household," she said.

Roland, inebriated and tired, agreed.

While at his apartment, Rei emerged from the shower undressed before proceeding to his bedroom.

What happened next, Roland would struggle to piece together clearly. The alcohol. The exhaustion. The surprise of her walking in naked. The blur of it all.

Roland and Rei began a dating relationship later that week.

When his friends asked him how it happened, he said simply, "We slept together."

How can this happen? - Joyce

Joyce was a retired lady in her sixties, living alone in the suburbs.

She met Isla, a lady in her fifties, at a Spring fair and they began to spend time together. Isla saw herself as befriending a lonely, elderly lady in her neighbourhood. She found meaning in bringing some cheer to Joyce's life.

Joyce counted herself lucky to have such a great neighbour and friend in Isla, who became her confidant.

Occasionally, Isla's husband, Hudson, would join in their activities. Hudson, just like Isla, was respectful and helpful towards Joyce. He changed the bulbs in Joyce's home and fixed the leaking water pipes. Occasionally he would fetch her from the shops and carry what she needed.

Joyce was grateful. These were tasks she could no longer manage easily. Having neighbours like Isla and Hudson felt like a blessing.

One day, Hudson showed up at Joyce's home without Isla by his side.

"I need help," he said at the door. Joyce, without suspicion, opened the door.

Hudson overpowered and assaulted her before leaving.

Joyce sat in shock, her body trembling. What had just happened? This was Hudson. Isla's husband. The man who had helped her, who had been nothing but kind.

Then Hudson told Isla that Joyce had seduced him. That he had played along because he felt sorry for the elderly lady.

Isla felt betrayed. Joyce had seemingly repaid her kindness with evil.
Isla stopped contacting Joyce. No calls. No visits. Nothing.

Joyce was distraught. She couldn't make sense of what had happened. She was assaulted by Hudson. And now Isla, her only close friend, abandoned her.

Should she report what Hudson did? But would anyone believe her over him? He was married, respectable, known for helping her.

And if she spoke up, would she lose even the memory of the friendship she had with Isla?

Joyce sat in her home, more alone than she had ever been.

But he was always so nice to us. - Melissa

Melissa was ten years old when she was touched inappropriately in her neighbourhood, in a shop that was less than two minutes away from home by foot.

Melissa and her brother were familiar faces with the shopkeepers. They would politely greet the shopkeepers who were friendly with their parents, calling them uncles and aunties.

One shop had a claw machine with stuffed toys. Melissa loved trying to catch them, though she rarely succeeded.

Once, when she couldn't catch any despite multiple attempts, the shopkeeper retrieved a couple of toys from the claw machine.

"It's okay," he said warmly. "You and your brother can have them."

As he said this, he patted a delighted Melissa on her head. Then he rubbed past her chest firmly with the side of his forearm, pressing the toys into her opened hands.

Melissa felt something wrong in that fleeting moment. The touch was unusual. Deliberate, somehow.

But she looked up at the uncle's smile. His apparent generosity. She thought about their long history of positive interactions. Her parents knew him. He was friendly. He had just given her free toys.

There was no congruence between what she felt and what she saw.

Perhaps she was standing too close to him in the tiny shop and it was an accident. Perhaps she imagined the pressure to be firmer than it actually was.

She thanked the shopkeeper and returned home with the toys, pushing this incident to the back of her mind.

I feel grown up. - Shan Shan

Shan Shan was sixteen years old when she joined a club that made bows and arrows. Members were mostly adults.

Isaiah, a working professional in his late twenties, frequented the club. Upon seeing her enthusiasm, he began to coach her.

When he developed romantic feelings for her, he consulted his peers. They encouraged him to pursue the relationship. "Shan Shan comes across as very sensible for her age," they said.

Shan Shan was blown away by Isaiah's eloquence, generosity, and kindness. A working professional paying attention to her? She felt grown-up. Chosen.

They began a romance.

As the more sexually experienced one, Isaiah facilitated her "curiosities and exploration." He shared his experiences and others' experiences. He handled her body in specific ways, showing her what he liked. He showed her how she could tend to him, often in the context of play.

Coming from a well-to-do family and being financially independent, he was able to bring her on trips she would never have been able to afford. Hotels. Weekend getaways. Places that felt adult and sophisticated.

They had intercourse after a few months.

Isaiah would feel bad afterwards. But he reasoned with himself:
Shan Shan was already sexually mature. Her body was responsive to his touch, after all.

I don't want a divorce. - Cecilia

Cecilia was a mild-tempered working professional in her fifties. She had been married to her husband for thirty years and they had adult children.

Cecilia described her husband as thoughtful and romantic. He provided for the family dutifully and remembered to celebrate special occasions together. Their marriage seemed stable, comfortable.

One day, her husband shared his interest in swinging with other couples.

Cecilia felt her stomach drop. This was completely outside her world.

He gave her information on swinging. Articles. Forums. He arranged for her to meet people from the swinging community.

She went. The people she met were working professionals who behaved like normal people and had normal conversations. Lawyers. Teachers. Business owners. They weren't what she had imagined.

Still, Cecilia was reluctant.

But she didn't want to disappoint her husband. He seemed so enthusiastic. So certain this would be good for them.

She reasoned with herself: Times have progressed. She shouldn't be so conservative. As there was no money involved, this wasn't like prostitution. Rather, it was a way to rejuvenate their intimate life. That's what he said, anyway.

Cecilia agreed to try.

Her husband, a photography enthusiast, took shots of her where she was covered minimally. He posted these "artistic" shots on their social media accounts.

The photographs attracted other couples who were interested in swinging. He curated which couples they would swing with, managing the accounts, the conversations, the arrangements.

When Cecilia confided in a friend about the situation, she said quietly, "I don't have a habit of saying 'no' to him."

Her friend asked gently, "Do you want to do this?"

Cecilia looked away. "I don't want a divorce."

My brother said I was special. - Valerie

Valerie was the baby of the family and doted upon by her grandparents, parents, and siblings. She was a child with a fiery temper and outspoken in getting what she wanted.

Valerie was six years old when her teenage brother began to play special games with her.

She was excited. He made it seem like she was being included in something important, something secret. He gave her "permission" to touch him in private places. It was framed as a precious moment to cherish between them.

In return for giving her such privilege, he said, she would also allow him to touch her in similar places.

These sessions shifted gradually. From touching with clothes on to touching without clothes on. Then lying on top of each other. Eventually, slight penetration.

A few years later, Valerie's brother became partnered. The sessions ended abruptly, without explanation.

Valerie and her brother continued their family life as if nothing had happened. He helped her with homework. Drove her to activities. Acted like the doting sibling everyone believed him to be.

But something inside Valerie changed.
She became secretly ashamed of what had happened. She couldn't name why. And she distanced herself from the bodily sensations she had experienced… something that persisted to adulthood.

They were just curious. It was harmless fun. - Archer

A group of people in their twenties and thirties, mostly dating and married couples, rented a holiday beach house for a weekend getaway.

Among them was Archer, a casanova who regaled the group with his unending sexual escapades. He was charming, confident, and always had a new story to tell.

During this staycation, Archer brought a new face to the house. Donna. They had been seeing each other for a few weeks.

At some point during the afternoon, Archer and Donna disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

A few friends, guessing what was happening, found a small opening in the door. One leaned forward and peeped within.

Eyes widening, they beckoned excitedly to other friends. "Come look!"

They took turns peering through the gap. Hands covering their mouths. With barely contained giggles, they scurried back to the common area.

The discussion began immediately. Details about the sex act. Commentary on Donna's physical attributes, including her private areas. Comparisons to Archer's previous partners. Laughter and exaggerated gestures.

Later that evening, Donna joined the group for a meal and games. She smiled, chatted, played cards. She had no idea that several people in the room had just watched her most intimate moments. That they had discussed her naked body in explicit detail.

When Archer learned what had happened after the staycation, he laughed.

"Classic," he said, shaking his head with amusement.

He never told Donna.

I thought she loved me. Was I just a show? - Martin

Martin was in his late twenties when he fell in love with Nardia, a girl he met online.

Nardia was of similar age and an assertive, gregarious person who was doing well in her career. Martin was quiet and reserved. He looked up to her: Her confidence, her success, the way she moved through the world with such ease.

They began a sexual relationship. Martin felt fortunate. Someone like Nardia choosing someone like him felt like a gift.

One evening, while video-conferencing with Nardia, she told him to remove his clothes. This wasn't unusual for them. Their virtual intimacy had become part of their relationship.

Martin complied.

What he didn't know: Nardia's friends, a group of men and women of similar ages, were also looking at her computer screen.

Nardia happened to be hosting a gathering that evening. She had shared with her friends about Martin's sexual prowess and physique. They were curious about her descriptions.

So Nardia invited them to look at her computer screen while keeping out of Martin's sight. They watched silently, some covering their mouths to stifle laughter, others with eyes wide.

Martin, believing he was in an intimate moment with the woman he loved, was completely unaware.

Weeks later, Martin found out through a mutual acquaintance. Someone at the party had mentioned it casually, not realising Martin didn't know.

The humiliation hit him like a physical blow. Every intimate moment he had shared with Nardia replayed in his mind, now tainted. Had there been others watching? How many times?

Everyone does it. Shouldn't I? - Wan

Wan was in his thirties and in a mid-career transition, completing a diploma in a new field. His classmates were mostly in their late teens or early twenties.

Through randomly assigned group work, he formed a clique with three other girls. They were friendly and welcoming, and Wan was grateful for their company.

As he was seeking a long-term partner, his more experienced newfound friends guided him onto virtual dating platforms. "This is how people meet now," they assured him.

When a girl he was chatting with requested private pictures, Wan hesitated. This felt uncomfortable.

His friends told him this was common practice. "Everyone does it. You should do it too."

Not wanting to be seen as an oddball, Wan negotiated for less provocative photographs. He sent her faceless photographs of the agreed-upon body parts.

When the girl began sexting, Wan felt his discomfort deepen. He mentioned this to his friends.

They laughed at him. "This is common in the dating world. You need to loosen up."

Wan attempted sexting. But in the midst of an intense session late at night, he was unable to continue. It felt wrong. He couldn't go through with it.

He apologised heavily to the girl.

She was furious. She scolded him harshly, telling him he was a conservative wimp who would never find a partner. "You're wasting my time. No wonder you're single at your age."

The messages kept coming, each one cutting deeper.

Wan sat staring at his phone, feeling humiliated and small. He felt like he was a failure. Too old, too conservative, too inexperienced to navigate modern dating.

His friends' laughter echoed in his mind.
Had he been naive? Was this really how everyone dated now?