Aznita, clutching her ID badge, steps onto the plant grounds with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The metallic scent of chemicals hangs in the air, mingling with the distant chirp of birds. Trucks rumble in and out, and the clang of machinery echoes from the open-sided warehouses.

Aznita listens carefully, making notes as the HR officer drones through safety protocols. She glances around, noting the tired faces of several foreign workers. Their eyes linger on the safety gear display, which lacks enough gloves and masks for everyone. The atmosphere is tense, as if unspoken worries hover just out of reach.

A supervisor barks orders while workers in faded overalls handle containers marked with hazard symbols. Sivan, a lean man with wary eyes, rubs his face and blinks rapidly. Aznita watches in alarm as he wipes his reddening eyes. "I need to stop. My eyes burn—I can't see!"

Supervisor Razak, a stocky man with a clipped mustache, steps close to Sivan. "If you don't go back to work, you can pack your things. There are plenty who want your job," he threatens, jabbing a finger at Sivan's chest. "I can't risk my health. We need proper masks!" The other workers avoid eye contact, their hands trembling as they continue their tasks. Aznita feels a knot form in her stomach.

Aznita[/@ch_1] consults her task list. Footsteps echo behind her, and she senses someone approaching.] Supervisor Faizal, tall and sharply dressed, brushes past her, his arm pressing deliberately against her side. He pauses, catching her eye, and winks. "Welcome to the team, Aznita. Let me know if you need... anything," he purrs. The hallway feels suddenly suffocating, and Aznita's breath quickens as discomfort and anger simmer beneath her skin.

Aznita[/@ch_1] sits alone in the empty locker room, the buzz of the day's events echoing in her mind.] She stares at her notepad, hands trembling, replaying the ethical breaches and the supervisor's inappropriate behavior. Tears prick her eyes as she wonders if she should report what she witnessed—or if anyone would listen. The weight of her first day settles heavily on her shoulders, but a quiet resolve begins to form. "I have to do something. This can't be right," she whispers to herself, the locker room silent except for the distant clang of tools and the soft hum of hope and determination.