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.

How much do I owe him really? - Wei Hao

When their father was involved in an accident and was no longer able to work, Wei Jun stopped schooling and took on full-time work. He helped put his younger siblings through school, including Wei Hao.

Wei Hao was grateful for his brother's sacrifice. He knew Wei Jun had given up his own dreams so that Wei Hao could pursue his.

But Wei Jun was difficult to get along with. When Wei Hao didn't do well in school, Wei Jun would put him down. "You're not good enough. You need to try harder." When Wei Hao did well, Wei Jun would dismiss it. "You were just lucky this time."

Wei Jun had a bad temper. Wei Hao felt like he was walking on eggshells around him, never sure what might trigger an outburst.

"Don't forget what I've done for you," Wei Jun would say, his voice heavy with expectation. "You're indebted to me." He used this reminder as leverage, a way to get Wei Hao to do what he wanted.

During Wei Hao's growing-up years, their interactions were limited to the family home and family activities. Wei Hao's financial dependence meant he couldn't create distance even when he wanted to.

In adulthood, they met mainly at their parents' place during festive periods. Polite. Cordial. Surface-level.

When their parents passed on, they barely spoke. The tie that had held them together… the obligation, gratitude, shared family gatherings… had loosened. And Wei Hao realised he didn't want to tighten it again.

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?

Am I being selfish? - Harry

Keith was the founder of a community organisation that advocated for the welfare of a minority group. He was passionate about the cause and had been collecting stories of discriminatory behaviours in certain high-profile companies to prepare a report.

At a social gathering, he met Harry, an employee who had been at a large company for several years. Keith's eyes lit up. Here was someone with insider experience.

"Would you be willing to share your story with me?" Keith asked. "Your responses won't be attributed to you. I just need to understand what's happening on the ground."

Harry agreed. He felt safe knowing his identity would be protected. Over coffee, he shared his experiences freely—the subtle exclusions, the overlooked promotions, the casual remarks that stung.

After the interview and before the report was finalised, Keith contacted Harry again. This time, his tone had shifted.

"I've been thinking," Keith said. "Your story is powerful. It would have so much more impact if you allowed me to use your real name."

Harry hesitated. That wasn't what they'd agreed to.

Keith pressed on. "You have a responsibility to contribute to the social progress of our community. This is bigger than just you. Don't you want to be part of the change?"

Harry felt his chest tighten. Was Keith right? Was he being selfish by wanting to stay anonymous? Was he letting his community down?

How does honouring my elders look like? - Ying

Ying had been separated from her mother's family for two decades. After her parents' divorce, her father had taken her back to his hometown in Malaysia. There had been no meaningful communication with her mother's side since.

When she found a job in Singapore, she decided to visit her mother's family to pay respects. It felt important to reconnect, to bridge the gap that time and distance had created.

As Ying spent time with them, her uncle's words cut deep. He criticised her job. "That's not a real career." He picked apart the flat she rented. "You're wasting money on that place." Even the way she cooked wasn't right. "Who taught you to cook like that?"

Each visit left her drained. The sharp remarks would replay in her mind long after she left his flat.

A relative noticed her discomfort and pulled her aside. "Your uncle is retired and quite lonely, you know. It would be good if you visited him more often. Keep him company."

Ying hesitated. "But every time I leave, I feel so low. His words are really harsh."

The relative waved her concern away. "That's just how old people are. He's behaving like a normal elderly person. It's the responsibility of the younger generation to show compassion and understanding to our elders. You've been away for so long. This is your chance to honour the family."

Ying felt the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders. Was she being selfish? Disrespectful? Should she just endure it for the sake of family harmony?