Singapore Slowly- The night before the layoffs

Last night, I was on a call with my father.

A normal call. The kind we have almost every evening before going to bed.

I smiled. Told him I had dinner. Told him everything was fine.

He asked if I was going to office tomorrow. I told him no, nobody is going to office tomorrow. We are all working from home because it is the layoff day.

And that was it.

I could not tell him how scared I actually was.

Because I knew the moment I said it out loud, it would travel thousands of kilometers and sit heavy in my parents’ hearts too. And that was the last thing I wanted.

So I smiled. Hung up the call. Took a deep breath.

And silently hoped that tomorrow would be kind.

It was 19th May. Almost midnight.

A month ago, my company had announced that on 20th May they would lay off 7,000 people. Almost 10% of the company.

I had just moved to Singapore.

New country. New routines. Still living out of a hotel room. My apartment lease had already started, but I had not even moved in yet. And underneath all the excitement of starting over, there was this quiet layer of fear.

What if they decide to let me go now?

I joined the company in 2022. The same year the layoffs at Meta began.

10,000 people first.

Another 10,000 the next year.

Sometimes performance. Sometimes restructuring. Sometimes “efficiency.”

And every single time, I got scared.

But this time felt heavier.

Maybe because I have not had a settled mindset in a very long time. First came the possibility of moving from Gurgaon to Singapore. Then the move itself. Then rebuilding life from scratch. And now this.

I think anxiety becomes sharper when your mind never fully gets to unpack. Mine has been living out of a suitcase for a long time now.

I decided to remain awake till 4 a.m. And sometime during all that overthinking, I came across "a website called The Happy Map on Poodle. Thousands of people around the world sharing tiny moments that made them happy in the last 24 hours.

Someone had a really good meal.

Someone danced at work.

Someone simply had a peaceful day.

Tiny things. Ordinary things.

And somehow, reading that while sitting alone with all this uncertainty made me feel lighter for a moment.

Morning came.

I was safe. And deeply grateful for that.

But so many talented people I have worked with are gone today. Familiar names suddenly turned into deactivated profiles and goodbye posts overnight. People I learned from. People who made difficult days lighter. People who were probably making plans for next month just yesterday.

And I think that is the hardest part about layoffs.

Not the headlines. Not the numbers.

It is knowing that behind every access removal and every goodbye message is a human being trying to quickly rearrange their life around unexpected loss.

People with families. Plans. Relocations. Responsibilities. Dreams.

People who were probably also on calls with their parents last night, trying to sound okay.

Somewhere between the fear, the waiting, and the silence after the layoffs ended, I think I realized something.

We are all carrying far more than what we say out loud.

The colleague replying normally on the chat.

The friend joking on a call.

The person smiling while speaking to their parents before bed.

You never really know what kind of uncertainty someone is quietly trying to survive.

Maybe that is why small moments of warmth matter so much.

A good meal.

A familiar voice.

A stranger dancing at work.

Someone asking if you reached home safely.

They do not remove uncertainty.

But sometimes, on difficult nights, they remind you that life is still gently continuing around it.

And sometimes, that is enough to help us breathe again.