When I boarded that flight, all I wanted was a little peace — maybe a nap, maybe silence. I didn’t know that fate had tucked a lesson into seat 22B.
As I made my way down the narrow aisle, luggage bumping my leg, I looked up and froze. Sitting exactly where I was supposed to sit was the one person I least expected — my former boss. The same man who had fired me two years earlier, whose decision had sent my life spiraling into self-doubt.
He looked up. Our eyes met. Recognition flashed across his face — not cold, not smug, but something unreadable, heavy.
He leaned toward the flight attendant and murmured something I couldn’t hear. Minutes later, she returned with a calm smile.
“Sir, you’ve been moved to first class.”
I blinked, confused. “There must be a mistake.”
“No mistake,” she said gently. “Please, come with me.”
