That day had broken something inside me. I’d spent months picking up the pieces through therapy, side jobs, and sleepless nights. I eventually rebuilt a quieter, humbler version of myself — one that didn’t rely on titles or approval. Still, seeing him again reopened the old wound.
Why would he upgrade me? Guilt? Pity? Or something else entirely?
I hesitated. Every instinct said no. But curiosity — and maybe a lingering need for closure — won.
A Conversation Two Years Overdue
When I reached his row, he looked older. The sharpness that once defined him was gone. His shoulders sagged a little, his eyes softer.
“I just wanted to apologize,” he said quietly. “I made a mistake. I took the easy route — and you paid the price for it.”
I didn’t know what to say. The flight hummed around us as his words sank in.
He told me what had happened after I left. The company lost its biggest investor, the board dissolved, his marriage ended. He said it without bitterness, only weary acceptance. “I lost everything,” he admitted. “But it made me see what really matters.”
