HR, But Make It Awkward
The email arrived at 9:02am, like a polite slap.
Subject: Workplace Relationship Declaration – Quick Check-In
From: Stephanie Lim (HR Business Partner)
Jiawen stared at the notification until her eyes began to sting.
Quick check-in.
Those two words were always a lie.
There was no such thing as a quick check-in when HR was involved.
“Faris,” she whispered.
Faris looked up from his screen.
His expression was neutral.
But his eyes sharpened instantly, reading her face like he read client emails.
“What?” he asked quietly.
Jiawen tilted her screen toward him.
Faris leaned slightly closer.
Read.
His jaw tightened.
Not panic.
Not anger.
A controlled internal recalculation.
He straightened slowly.
“Okay,” he said.
Jiawen’s stomach flipped.
His okay wasn’t comfort.
It was a switch.
Work mode.
Contain damage.
“What do we do?” Jiawen asked, voice too small.
Faris exhaled slowly.
He kept his voice low so Ben wouldn’t hear and Reza wouldn’t smell drama.
“We attend,” he said. “We be honest. We keep it simple.”
Jiawen swallowed.
Her face betrayed fear.
Faris’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second.
“Nothing wrong,” he added quietly. “Just policy.”
Policy.
A word that made everything feel colder.
Jiawen stared at the email again.
The meeting invite was attached.
Today, 2:30pm.
Meeting Room 2B.
Jiawen’s chest tightened.
They still had SkyFreight tasks.
They still had client calls.
They still had a go-live countdown.
And now they had to sit in a room and explain their hearts like a compliance item.
Jiawen wanted to laugh.
She wanted to cry.
Instead, she said, “Okay.”
Faris’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Don’t copy me,” he murmured.
Jiawen glared. “I’m not copying. I’m suffering.”
Faris’s eyes softened.
Then he looked away.
Work first.
By lunchtime, Jiawen’s nerves had turned into a physical itch.
She couldn’t focus.
She kept reading the email again.
Quick check-in.
She imagined HR asking questions like she was applying for a mortgage.
How long have you known each other?
Are there reporting lines?
Any conflict of interest?
Do you touch? Do you whisper? Do you open doors?
Jiawen’s face heated just thinking about it.
At 12:08pm, Priya announced lunch.
“Go eat,” Priya said. “If you don’t eat, you’ll be useless at 3pm and then we all die.”
Reza popped up. “Priya, why always die?”
Priya glared. “Because this is SkyFreight.”
They walked out as a group.
Jiawen tried to act normal.
Her face betrayed her anyway.
Reza squinted at her in the lift. “Eh, today you look like you got secret.”
Jiawen forced a laugh. “I always got secret.”
Reza’s eyes widened. “Wah, scary.”
Faris said calmly, “Reza, you talk too much.”
Reza pouted. “I talk because silence is scary.”
Ben muttered, “Silence is peace.”
Priya sighed. “Can all of you shut up.”
The lunch table felt safer because there were many people.
Noise.
Distraction.
But Jiawen’s stomach still churned.
Faris ate quietly, eyes occasionally flicking to her face.
He didn’t ask.
Not here.
He knew she wouldn’t answer properly with Reza breathing too loudly.
At 12:27pm, Jiawen’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Her chest tightened.
She didn’t open.
It buzzed again.
Reza leaned forward. “Boyfriend ah?”
Jiawen nearly dropped her phone.
Ben snorted.
Priya’s eyes narrowed.
Faris’s jaw tightened slightly.
Jiawen forced her face into neutrality.
“No,” she said quickly. “Spam.”
Reza squinted. “Spam also got feelings one?”
Priya kicked him under the table.
Reza yelped. “OW!”
Priya smiled sweetly. “Accident.”
Jiawen exhaled.
She checked her phone under the table.
A message.
Unknown: I just want to talk. Please don’t be like this.
Junhao.
Again.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
She blocked the number.
Again.
Her breath shuddered.
Faris leaned slightly toward her.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Jiawen nodded quickly.
Her face betrayed panic.
Faris’s eyes softened.
His voice was steady. “Later.”
Jiawen swallowed.
Later.
A small promise.
Not abandonment.
She nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Faris’s mouth twitched. “Okay.”
Jiawen almost smiled.
Then she remembered HR.
Her stomach dropped again.
At 2:26pm, Jiawen stood outside Meeting Room 2B with Faris.
The hallway was quiet.
The glass walls reflected their shapes.
Faris looked calm.
Jiawen felt like she was about to be audited.
She tugged at the hem of her blouse.
Her palms were slightly sweaty.
Faris noticed.
He didn’t touch her.
Not in the hallway.
But his voice softened.
“Breathe,” he said quietly.
Jiawen inhaled shakily.
The door opened.
Stephanie Lim stood inside with a laptop and a folder.
She was in her thirties, hair in a neat bob, expression warm enough to be disarming.
“Hi,” Stephanie said brightly. “Thanks for coming. Come in, sit.”
Jiawen sat.
Faris sat beside her.
Of course.
The meeting room was too cold.
The table was too big.
The chairs were too stiff.
Stephanie smiled at them like they were a team that had achieved something.
“Okay,” she began, “so this is really a policy refresher. We’re not here to judge anyone.”
Jiawen’s chest loosened slightly.
Then Stephanie continued.
“We just want to ensure there’s no conflict of interest and that both parties feel safe. Relationships happen. We just manage risk.”
Risk.
The word made Jiawen want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Stephanie opened her folder.
“First, can you confirm your names and roles?”
Faris spoke calmly. “Faris Zulkarnain. Senior Solutions Analyst, CIS Logistics.”
Jiawen swallowed. “Chong Jiawen. Associate Solutions Analyst, CIS Logistics.”
Stephanie nodded, typing.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you have a direct reporting relationship? Does Faris evaluate your performance?”
Jiawen’s stomach tightened.
Faris answered quickly. “No. Jiawen reports to Priya as team lead. I’m her implementation lead for projects, but not her manager. I don’t own her appraisal.”
Stephanie nodded. “Okay. Do you approve her leave? Salary? Promotions?”
Faris shook his head. “No.”
Stephanie smiled. “Good. That reduces the major conflict.”
Jiawen exhaled.
Stephanie’s eyes flicked to Jiawen.
“Do you feel pressured in any way?” Stephanie asked gently.
Jiawen froze.
Her face betrayed shock.
Pressured?
No.
Faris had never pressured her.
If anything, he had pressured her to eat breakfast.
She glanced at Faris.
His face was neutral.
But his eyes were attentive.
Jiawen straightened.
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t feel pressured.”
Stephanie nodded, satisfied.
“Good,” she said. “Then we talk safeguards.”
Safeguards.
Jiawen’s chest tightened again.
Stephanie continued, practical. “Since you’re in the same pod and on the same client, we may need to adjust some things. Not because you did wrong, but because perception matters.”
Jiawen bristled.
Perception.
Why did everyone else’s eyes get a vote in her life?
Stephanie held up a hand, as if anticipating resistance. “Before you panic–this can be simple. It can be as small as a seating change, or a review chain adjustment. We just need to avoid any perception of favoritism.”
Jiawen’s face betrayed indignation.
Faris’s jaw tightened.
Stephanie smiled, warm but firm.
“Now,” she said, “I know SkyFreight is go-live this week. We won’t move anything during critical week. But after go-live, we’ll implement one or two safeguards.”
Jiawen swallowed.
Faris spoke calmly. “What kind of safeguards do you recommend?”
Stephanie leaned forward. “Option A: Jiawen moves to another pod cluster. Still CIS Logistics, but not directly beside Faris. Option B: Jiawen rotates to another project after go-live, so you’re not paired day-to-day. Option C: we keep the current arrangement but assign another senior reviewer for Jiawen’s deliverables.”
Jiawen’s stomach dropped.
Move seats.
Rotate projects.
Assigned reviewer.
It sounded like punishment disguised as policy.
Jiawen’s throat tightened.
She forced herself to speak.
“Will it affect… my growth?” she asked quietly.
Stephanie’s expression softened.
“That’s a fair concern,” Stephanie said. “We don’t want to derail your ramp-up. You’re doing well. Priya has spoken positively about you.”
Jiawen blinked.
Priya had spoken about her.
Something warm rose in her chest.
Stephanie continued. “So we’ll choose the least disruptive safeguard. Likely seating change first. It’s symbolic but effective.”
Symbolic.
Jiawen wanted to scream.
Faris spoke, voice calm but firm.
“If we do seating change, can we confirm it won’t affect Jiawen’s project scope and ownership?”
Stephanie nodded. “Yes. We can coordinate with Priya. The aim is optics, not reduction.”
Faris’s jaw tightened slightly.
Jiawen glanced at him.
He looked like he wanted to argue more.
He didn’t.
He held the line.
Controlled.
Proper.
Jiawen’s chest tightened with gratitude and irritation at the same time.
Stephanie smiled, typing again.
“Okay,” she said. “Next, confidentiality. Please avoid discussing relationship issues on work channels. No PDA in office. Keep your interactions professional.”
Jiawen nodded quickly.
Faris nodded once.
Stephanie’s eyes flicked between them.
“And lastly,” Stephanie said, tone gentle, “if there’s any harassment from external parties–ex-partners, etc.–you can approach HR. We can advise.”
Jiawen froze.
Faris’s eyes sharpened.
Stephanie’s gaze rested on Jiawen. “Only if needed. Just letting you know.”
Jiawen swallowed.
Her cheeks warmed.
Was it obvious?
Had someone already noticed Junhao’s attempts?
Or was Stephanie simply thorough?
Jiawen forced herself to nod. “Okay.”
Stephanie closed her folder.
“That’s all,” she said brightly. “Really. Quick check-in.”
Jiawen stared.
Quick.
She had been interrogated like a credit risk.
Stephanie stood. “We’ll follow up after go-live. You both doing good. Hang in there.”
Faris stood. “Thank you.”
Jiawen stood too, legs slightly stiff.
As they walked out of the meeting room, the hallway felt warmer than the room.
Jiawen exhaled shakily.
Faris walked beside her.
His expression was composed.
But Jiawen could see the tension in his jaw.
They reached a quiet corner near the pantry.
Jiawen stopped.
“Wah,” she whispered. “That was like… applying for loan.”
Faris blinked.
Then his mouth twitched.
Jiawen stared at him.
Her face betrayed disbelief.
“You find it funny?” she demanded.
Faris let out a quiet laugh.
Not loud.
But real.
“Your analogy is accurate,” he admitted.
Jiawen huffed. “Stephanie talk like we are risk.”
Faris’s expression sobered.
“We are risk,” he said quietly.
Jiawen’s chest tightened.
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to say love shouldn’t be treated like a hazard.
But she knew the office didn’t operate on poetry.
It operated on perception.
Policy.
Damage control.
Jiawen crossed her arms tightly.
“So they will move my seat,” she muttered.
Faris swallowed.
His eyes softened.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Jiawen blinked.
Her face betrayed surprise.
“Why you sorry?” she asked.
Faris looked at her.
He didn’t look guilty.
He looked… heavy.
“Because you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said. “And you still have to pay for optics.”
Jiawen’s throat tightened.
She stared at him.
In that moment, she saw the deeper fear under his calm.
Not just worry about rumours.
Worry that his love would cost her.
Jiawen exhaled slowly.
She uncrossed her arms.
“Faris,” she said softly. “Don’t be like that.”
Faris frowned. “Like what?”
Jiawen’s face betrayed tenderness.
“Like you’re a burden,” she whispered.
Faris went still.
Jiawen continued, voice quiet but firm. “I chose this. I chose you. If HR move my seat, okay. I still can walk. I still can work. I still can…”
She stopped.
Her cheeks warmed.
She glanced around.
No one.
Still, the words felt too intimate in a hallway.
Faris watched her.
His eyes softened.
He didn’t say okay right away.
Instead, he exhaled slowly.
“I know,” he murmured. “But I don’t want your career to suffer because of me.”
Jiawen swallowed.
Her voice came out small.
“Then don’t let it,” she whispered.
Faris stared.
Jiawen lifted her chin, stubborn.
“Help me grow like normal,” she said. “Praise me like normal. Scold me like normal. Don’t overcompensate. Don’t pull away. Just… be proper.”
Proper.
The word tasted like his voice.
Faris’s mouth twitched faintly.
“You sound like Priya,” he murmured.
Jiawen rolled her eyes. “Priya is wise.”
Faris let out a quiet laugh.
Then his expression softened.
“Okay,” he said.
Jiawen glared. “Stop.”
Faris’s eyes crinkled slightly.
“Fine,” he said. “Deal.”
Jiawen exhaled.
She felt lighter.
Then her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Unknown number.
Again.
Her stomach dropped.
Faris noticed the shift in her face.
“What?” he asked, voice low.
Jiawen swallowed.
She didn’t want to drag HR into Junhao.
Not yet.
Not unless it became bigger.
She forced a smile.
“Spam,” she whispered.
Faris’s eyes narrowed.
He didn’t believe her.
But he didn’t push.
Not in the hallway.
Not after HR.
He simply said, quietly, “Later.”
Jiawen nodded.
Later.
Again, the small promise.
They returned to the pod.
Work resumed.
SkyFreight tasks waited.
The office pretended everything was normal.
But in Jiawen’s chest, something had shifted.
Because HR had named what she feared: perception.
And because Faris had revealed what he feared: being the reason she paid.
That night, when Jiawen lay in bed, she stared at the ceiling and thought about seats.
How a desk could be moved.
How a project could be reassigned.
How easily the office could separate them without touching anything else.
She reached into her tote bag.
The handkerchief was there.
Folded.
Soft.
She pressed it lightly to her fingers.
Then she smiled, small and stubborn.
Let HR move chairs.
Let Reza sniff for aura.
Let the office talk.
Two seats could change.
But she had learned something at Botanic Gardens.
Closeness wasn’t location.
It was choice.