It was almost 9 p.m. when Noorie finally got home. It had been a long day. She left the hospital ward at 3 p.m., had a quick lunch at the canteen, then went straight to the library to catch up on her readings.
After that, she headed to SIM for her evening class. There was only one session today—Business Law. As usual, the lecturer called on her multiple times during class. Three times, to be exact. “Why does he always call on me?” she muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed.
Her teammate sitting beside her smiled awkwardly, trying not to laugh. “I think he likes you,” said Mark, the team leader who works as a Maintenance Manager at Queenstown Town Council. “Why else would he keep picking on you?” Everyone laughed.
Noorie didn’t find it funny. Since the very first Business Law lecture, held in the main auditorium with management students and others, the lecturer had consistently singled her out. There were dozens of students in the hall, yet somehow, he always spotted her.
After class, one of her teammates, Mary, asked, “Hey, do you know him or something?”
“Nope. First time I met him was in this class,” Noorie replied.
“Aha! Mark might be right—maybe he likes you,” Mary teased.
“Good for us though. Maybe he’ll go easy on our group project.”
“Not funny,” Noorie snapped. She was getting irritated.
This wasn’t the first time her teammates joked about it, and it wasn’t amusing to her. She had tried different strategies to avoid being noticed arriving late, sitting at the back, hiding behind other students
but it never worked. Every time, the lecturer’s eyes would scan the hall. “Hmmm, where’s Noorie? I know she’s here somewhere,” he’d say. Then the rest of the class would look around, and someone would inevitably point her out. “There she is.” And it would begin again.
“Ah, maybe Noorie would like to start us off by explaining the principles of the law of contract.” She would sigh quietly. “Why me? Why always me?”
She would be meeting the group again on Saturday at 4 p.m. at the SIM canteen to discuss their other project. So far, they hadn’t decided which company to use for their case study.
Noorie was leaning strongly toward Creative Technology. Their track record was impressive, and she’d read that they were preparing to list on the Singapore Stock Exchange. She had already collected a stack of articles from The Business Times and other media sources.
One of the team members would be doing the presentation, but she wanted to make sure the groundwork was solid. Tomorrow, she had a case presentation at work after her shift.
She had chosen the topic: Care of a Paraplegic Patient. The materials were ready, but she hadn't had time to rehearse. That would have to wait. Right now, though, she was just hungry. All she could think about was getting home, having dinner, and going to bed.
She had told her mother earlier that she’d be home for dinner—so she needed to keep that promise. If not, her mother would be upset again. Lately, her mother had been more sensitive than usual, often complaining that Noorie didn’t appreciate home-cooked food anymore. She didn’t want another argument tonight.
They were all there, seated around the dining table as she walked in her father at the head, wearing the same worn-out expression he always had when something serious was brewing. She recognized every face. The Editor from the Publishing House, the one her father had briefly mentioned in passing weeks ago. Next to him sat the Assistant Editor, flipping through a file and occasionally jotting down notes. Another man, likely the driver, sat quietly at the edge, his eyes scanning the room with disinterest. And then there was Zaini.
She froze for a moment when she saw him. Zaini, her neighbor from the fifth floor. An ex-policeman. She had never really known what he was up to after leaving the force. Last she heard, he was doing “some business,” but no one in the block ever seemed to know what exactly that meant.
They weren't close. Their interactions were brief, polite lift rides, nods at the letterboxes, a casual “you okay?” here and there. He was two years younger than her and had been closer to her brother Johan. What’s he doing here? she wondered. What does he have to do with all this?
Her father stood up when he saw her walk in. “Oh good, you’re back,” he said. His voice was calm, but there was something strained in the way he looked at her. “You better join in and listen to what they have to say.” She hesitated.
She was still in her work clothes. Her bag was heavy with files and lecture notes, and all she really wanted was dinner and a quiet night. But something about the mood in the room told her that wasn’t going to happen.
She glanced at her mother, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, face tense. No words, just a look. A look that said, this isn’t the time to argue. Noorie stepped forward and took the empty seat at the table. The atmosphere felt heavy. No one was smiling. Even Zaini kept his eyes lowered, tapping his thumb on the table.
The Editor cleared his throat and began to speak
Chpt 2 / 36
