I Confessed to My Boss During a Plane Crash

The cabin was in utter chaos—screams, cries, and wails filled the air.

I sat there like an outsider, expressionless, unmoved.

But no one noticed my hands were gripping my pants so tightly that the skin on my pale fingers had been rubbed raw.

Some were writing farewell letters while others were typing away on their phones.

It was then that I remembered something.

I hurriedly pulled out my phone—my stingy boss had insisted on giving me a satellite version so he could always track me down.

My breathing grew a little unsteady, but as I thought about the past years of my life, I realized there was nothing and no one worth holding onto.

No family, no friends, only endless work.

A faint smile slowly curled at my lips.

I found the chat with my boss.

Just as I was about to type something, the plane lurched violently.

If it weren’t for the seatbelt, I might have been thrown out of my seat.

Luggage flew in every direction, one piece slamming into me.

Pain exploded through my body, and I felt warmth spreading across my face.

Blood covered my hands when I reached up to touch it.

Even as calm as I had been, fear finally crept in.

Silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

Clutching my phone tightly, I continued typing, now with a sense of urgency.

"Boss, boss, I'll keep it short—I like you."

Blood smeared across the screen.

It dripped from my face, blurring my vision.

I wiped at my eyes haphazardly, smearing more blood in the process, then pressed on.

"I really, really like you."

I was moved by my own little joke.

A quiet sob turned into full-blown weeping, and before I knew it, I was crying as hysterically as everyone else.

Kian Homer was a terrible boss—strict, expressionless, and relentlessly demanding.

But he was also meticulous, exceptionally capable, incredibly intelligent, and undeniably handsome, with an almost pathological need for cleanliness.

However, he was generous enough.

As his assistant, my annual salary had already hit two hundred thousand dollars.

But I was exhausted, completely drained.

I was practically on call 24/7, with no personal life and not a single friend.

I sobbed as I reflected on the first half of my life.

The turbulence grew even worse, and just as I sent out my final message—"Boss, this is a final goodbye."—a flight attendant was hurled straight at me.

My phone flew from my hands as I caught her.

I held onto her tightly to prevent her from getting hurt again.

I thought for sure I was going to die.

But against all odds, the captain managed to pull off a miracle.

By the time the plane landed, I was still clutching the unconscious flight attendant, my eyes shut tight and teeth clenched.

Somehow, holding onto another person made the thought of dying feel a little less lonely.

Around me, people were sobbing and cheering in waves.

When I finally opened my eyes and looked out the window, the pitch-black night was ablaze with lights.

Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars surrounded the plane.

My entire body ached, and it took nearly half an hour before anyone even got to me.

First, the medical team took the flight attendant from my arms.

I only felt relieved when I saw the doctors securing her neck—at least she hadn't been crushed to death.

When someone finally reached out to help me up, I realized I could still stand.

Nothing felt broken.