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.

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.

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.

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?

I gave because I thought we were family. - Ammera

Ammera was a single lady in her forties when she befriended a three-generational family. She began to have family meals with them regularly. The warmth of their home filled something in her life.

She saw the little grandchildren as her own nieces and nephews. The elders became like parents to her. They welcomed her presence, and she felt like she belonged.

One day, the family was in turmoil.

One of the sons had borrowed a large sum from illegal sources. His business losses were mounting and he was unable to recoup them. The debt collectors were relentless. The family was frightened.

In desperation, he reached out to each sibling for help. And to Ammera.

Ammera hesitated. This was a significant amount of money.

The patriarch of the family noticed her hesitation. He approached her privately.

"You're financially comfortable," he said gently. "A successful professional with no familial responsibilities. We've been like a family to you, haven't we? And family should help one another."

The words landed heavily. They had been like family to her. Could she really say no?

Ammera handed over a significant sum from her savings.

After some time passed, Ammera began to ask about repayment. She needed to rebuild her savings.

The borrower would always say the same thing: "I don't have any money to spare right now."

Weeks became months. Ammera brought the matter to the patriarch of the family, hoping he could help establish a repayment schedule.

He shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it. You'll have to speak with him directly."

Then he added, almost casually, "You loaned the money willingly, after all."

Ammera felt something shift inside her. When they needed her, she was "family." Now that she wanted repayment, she was just someone who made a voluntary loan.

She realised she had never truly been family.

It’s hard not to lend when a friend pleads. - Zachary

Henry was the live wire of the party. He organised gatherings to keep people connected. He was generous and fun to be around.

He would go out of his way to help people. Like driving across the city and spending time with distressed friends in the wee hours of the morning when they called. People felt cared for around Henry.

Henry was also generous when dating. He bought the latest gadgets and luxury products for the women he courted. He paid for exotic trips. He wanted to impress, to show he cared through lavish gestures.

But Henry's expenses exceeded his pay. Significantly.

He began to use his credit cards. The balances grew. Soon, he had accumulated debt about three times his annual salary.

Desperate, he began to borrow from his family and friends. "Just until I sort things out," he would say.

Friends who declined to lend him money were called names. "I thought you were my friend!" he said. "You're selfish. I've always been there for you!"

The scolding was harsh. Public, sometimes. People began to avoid his calls.

Zachary, his secondary school friend, felt conflicted when Henry reached out. He knew Henry was in trouble. And Henry had been there for him during difficult times.

Zachary loaned him $2,000. All he had in his savings.

A few days later, Zachary saw Henry's social media posts. A new gadget unboxed. Photos from a fancy restaurant with another girl, wine glasses raised, laughter.

The $2,000 was gone. Not on rent. Not on debt repayment. On more luxury spending.

Zachary felt sick. That was his entire savings.

When he confronted Henry, Henry became defensive. "I need this relationship to work out."

It took years of repeated begging before Henry finally returned the money. By then, the friendship had long since faded.

Haven't I repaid enough? - Han

Han's father secretly remortgaged the matrimonial home to pay his gambling debts.

When the truth came out, Han's mother was distraught. She was fearful that she would lose the roof over her head. She sought out her only son for help.

Han began making two mortgage payments. His own flat and his parents' home. The financial strain was enormous, but what choice did he have? His mother had nowhere else to go.

Then Han was retrenched. The double mortgage payments became impossible.

His best mate from army, Jae, stepped in. "I'll give you an interest-free loan to cover the payments until you find another position."

Han was overwhelmed with gratitude. Jae was saving him and his mother from disaster.

Han found a new job within months and began repaying the loan steadily.

But then Jae began to ask for favours.

Could Han help source specific items? Han had connections in retail. Could Han accompany Jae's elderly parents to the grocers when Jae was out of town? Han had flexible hours now.

At first, Han was happy to help. Jae had been there when he needed him most.

But the requests kept coming. More frequently. More time-consuming.

When Han attempted to decline a request, Jae would grow unhappy.

"I made sacrifices to extend that loan to you, you know," Jae would say, "I could have invested that money. I put my own plans on hold."

Han felt guilt wash over him. Jae was right, wasn't he? He did owe Jae.

Han did his best to fulfil Jae's requests, even when it meant cancelling his own plans or stretching himself thin.

But this debt never seemed to decrease. No matter how many favours Han did, it was never quite enough.

How much should our history count? - Jess

Elsa and Jess were childhood best friends. They grew up together, weathered school dramas together, and remained close into adulthood.

In her adult years, Elsa begins to feel stressed and overwhelmed juggling work and motherhood. She starts to share her troubles with Jess regularly. Jess listens. She comforts. She offers support.

When Jess begins to have conflict with her husband, she reaches out to Elsa to share her marital troubles.

But Elsa typically ends the conversation quickly. "Sorry, the children need me." Or "My husband is calling, I have to go."

Jess notices the pattern but says nothing. She continues to be there when Elsa calls.

One day, when Elsa calls her to share her troubles again, Jess keeps silence throughout the conversation. She listens, but offers no comfort. No responses. Just quiet.

Elsa, noticing the unusual silence, asks, "Jess, are you okay?"

Jess's voice was flat. "I have to go." She ends the conversation.

After that, their connection becomes estranged. Calls go unanswered. Messages remain brief.

Elsa was hurt and confused. She reaches out one more time, her frustration spilling over. "You don't understand the intensity of my chores and duties. I expected more from a best friend of decades."

She reminds Jess of the times she stood up for her during bullying in school. The interest-free loans she extended to Jess during hard times.

"After everything I've done for you, this is how you treat me?"

Jess reads the message. She thinks about all the times she listened to Elsa's struggles. All the times Elsa cut her off when she tried to share her own.

She doesn't reply.

I am doing all I can to help. - Kevin

Kevin was a respectable man. He was known to be fearless and would stand up for injustices he saw on the streets and at work.

With his colleagues, he was generous with his time, words, and help. With his relatives and family, he went out of his way to be present. Sometimes he would travel over an hour at the drop of a phone call to tend to their needs.

With his muscular appearance and his unapologetic speaking style, he appeared strong and invincible.

What was not obvious to the untrained eye was that Kevin was sensitive to perceived accusations that he was not enough. That he wasn't doing enough. That he wasn't good enough.

His closest ones learned, consciously and unconsciously, to move him to act through expressing distress and helplessness. Disappointment. Veiled criticisms. "I thought you would be here for me." "I guess I was wrong about you."

They lavished him with praise and love when he availed his time, energy, and resources. "You're amazing, Kevin. What would we do without you?"

Although he was exhausted, he did his best to fulfil everyone's expectations. He pushed himself harder. Slept less. Gave more.

But no matter how hard he tried, his efforts were never enough to meet the unending needs. There was always another crisis. Another call. Another person who needed him.

In his frustrations, he would sometimes erupt in intense anger. Vulgarities would fly. His voice would boom, filling the room with a rage that scared those around him into silence.

Afterwards, the guilt would settle in. He would apologise. Promise to do better. And the cycle would begin again.

Kevin, the strong one. Kevin, the helper.

Kevin, who was slowly burning out from the inside.

Why can’t I share good things with you? - Thomas

Thomas and Lee were rock climbing buddies. They met regularly at the climbing gym, spotting each other on difficult routes, and grabbing meals afterwards.

When Thomas shared about his job promotion, Lee grinned and said, "This promotion is long due. What took you so long?" He laughed. "Congratulations on your promotion anyway!"

Thomas laughed along, but something felt off. The joke had a edge to it.

When Thomas shared about his new home purchase in a prime district, Lee's eyebrows shot up. "Wah, you're rich! You can give me some money lah." He nudged Thomas playfully. "Oh, can I stay with you some time?"

Thomas smiled, unsure how to respond. Was Lee joking? Half-joking?

But when Thomas shared that he was having difficulties getting along with his supervisor, Lee's demeanour shifted completely. His face softened with sympathy. "That sounds really tough, man. Let me buy you a meal. You need to talk it out."

Over that meal, Lee listened attentively. He offered support. He was the friend Thomas needed in that moment.

Over time, Thomas noticed a pattern emerging in his own behaviour. He was no longer sharing positive news with Lee. When good things happened… a bonus, a holiday trip, a work achievement… he would think about mentioning it to Lee, then decide against it.

Instead, he only shared personal struggles and mishaps. Work stress. Family tensions. Small frustrations.

Upon reflection, Thomas realised why:
Doing so kept their interactions free of jealousy whilst retaining the benefit of companionship in their common activities.

But something nagged at him.

If he couldn't celebrate with Lee, were they really friends?

He sabotaged my chances with a girl. - Vikram

Vikram and Issac were part of a university's bowling team. They both helped Ella, their teammate, when she was going through difficult times.

Vikram had quiet affections for Ella. He hoped that over time, as they spent more time together, she might develop romantic feelings for him too.

One day, he learned that Issac was romantically interested in Ella as well.

During one of their conversations, Vikram found an opportune moment. "You know, Ella gave me this jigsaw puzzle she put together personally," he said, his voice warm with appreciation. "And this plush toy too. I'm really touched by her thoughtfulness and generosity."

Issac felt something sink inside him. A personalised jigsaw puzzle? That seemed significant. Meaningful.

What Vikram didn't mention was that the jigsaw puzzle came from Ella's house-moving garage sale. Buyers could donate whatever they wished, with proceeds going to charity. Ella hadn't assembled it specially for him. She had been clearing out her belongings.

He also didn't mention that many people received the same plush toy. Ella had purchased that design in bulk as part of a thanksgiving activity for everyone who had supported the team.

But Issac didn't know any of this. With the incomplete framing of what had transpired, he drew his own conclusion: Ella and Vikram clearly had mutual feelings.

Issac stopped his pursuit of Ella. Why compete when she had already made her choice?

Months later, when the truth came out in casual conversation, Issac realised what had happened. By then, Ella had started seeing someone else entirely.

Can I trust her? - Li Li

Li Li and Mei Na were same-age neighbours whose mothers were homemakers. The two mothers would socialise together frequently, bringing their children along.

But beneath the friendly chats, there was an undercurrent. Their mothers seemed to be competing over their daughters' school grades. Every conversation eventually turned to academics.

When Mei Na's mother learned that Li Li had scored better than Mei Na, she would put Mei Na down publicly. "Why are you so stupid?" she would ask, her voice sharp with disappointment. "Look at Li Li. Why can't you be more like her?"

Li Li would look away, uncomfortable. Mei Na's face would flush with shame.

One day, Mei Na approached Li Li with a challenging maths problem. "Can you help me with this? I've been stuck for ages."

Li Li nodded and spent a few hours working through the problem, determined to figure it out. When she finally solved it, she felt a quiet sense of accomplishment.

Mei Na looked at the solution and smiled brightly. "Oh, thanks! Actually, another friend already solved this for me in only ten minutes."

Li Li felt something deflate inside her.

On another occasion, Li Li confided in Mei Na during a quiet moment. "I haven't told my mum about this issue because I don't want to get into trouble."

Mei Na nodded sympathetically.

The next day, Li Li's mother confronted her. Mei Na had gone straight to Li Li's mother, expressing "concerns" about what Li Li had shared.

Li Li felt the sting of betrayal. She thought they were friends. But was Mei Na actually competing with her all along?

What kind of friend would I be if I refused? - Remi

Remi had neighbours and friends who would come to him with dire situations and pressing needs.

One had an elderly mother who was grievously ill and needed medical care they couldn't afford. Another had a son whose school fees were overdue. The boy might be kicked out if payment didn't come through. Yet another had a loanshark after the family, threats growing more dangerous by the day.

Each time, Remi would lend them money. Sometimes it was repaid. Often it wasn't.

Word spread. Remi earned a reputation for being "a loyal friend," someone you could count on when times were tough. People spoke warmly of his generosity, his big heart, his willingness to help when no one else would.

In the meanwhile, his wife stretched every dollar to put food on the table. His children wore hand-me-downs and skipped school excursions because there wasn't enough money. The family lived hand to mouth, unable to improve their circumstances. Further education for the children? Starting a small business? These remained distant dreams, always just out of reach.

Remi's wife would sometimes ask gently, "Can we say no this time? We need to think about our own family too."

But Remi would shake his head. "How can I turn them away when they're desperate? What kind of friend would I be?"

And so the cycle continued. Remi, the loyal friend. His family, still waiting.

I thought we were friends at work. - Ravi

Ravi and Aisyah were supervisors from sister departments, working hand-in-hand on common projects with their teams. The success of one team depended on the success of the other.

The two supervisors would often lunch together. Over shared meals, they talked candidly about work pressures, difficult team members, and personal matters. Ravi felt they had built something beyond professional courtesy. A real friendship.

One day, Ravi shared news that surprised Aisyah. "I'm leaving the company. I've accepted another role." He paused. "I don't think I'll be coming back."

Aisyah nodded, offered polite congratulations, and they parted ways.

After Ravi left, the lunches stopped. Aisyah never reached out. No messages. No calls. Ravi tried once or twice, but the responses were brief and cold.

Then Ravi heard something that stung even more. Through a mutual colleague, he learned that Aisyah had been speaking poorly of him at work. Aisyah told remaining colleagues and their bosses that Ravi's work ethics had been questionable. That her own management style was far superior. That she had been carrying the partnership all along.

Ravi stared at his phone, confused and hurt. Had their friendship meant nothing? Or had it never been a friendship at all?

How much trust do friends extend? - Evelyn

Evelyn owned a bespoke boutique. She was a designer dressmaker who customised clothing for her customers.

Fanny had been Evelyn's loyal customer for many years. She recommended Evelyn's boutique to her circle of friends and ordered several pieces every month. The relationship felt warm and easy. They would chat about life over fabric swatches and pattern books.

During a financial crisis, Evelyn noticed that Fanny was slow in making downpayments for her orders. At first, it seemed like a temporary hiccup. But it gradually escalated. Without discussion, Fanny seemed to expect Evelyn to produce pieces without payment.

With a backlog of unpaid orders piling up, Evelyn felt uneasy. She couldn't afford to keep producing custom pieces with no money coming in. When she gently told Fanny she couldn't take on new orders until the outstanding payments were settled, Fanny was livid.

"I've been a loyal customer for years! I've brought you so much business!" Fanny said, her voice sharp with hurt. "We have such a great friendship. Surely you could be more understanding and wait for my business to turn around?"

Evelyn felt the weight of those words. Had she been unkind? Unsupportive? Was she a bad friend?