I stepped onto the plane and froze. There, in seat 22B, was Mr. Ellman—my old boss. The man who had fired me two years ago. Unfairly. I flushed, looked away, and pretended not to notice him.

He leaned toward the flight attendant and whispered something.

A few minutes later, she approached me with a smile. “Sir, you’ve been moved to seat 2A. Please follow me.”

First class? My heart skipped a beat. I’d never flown like this before.

As I passed him, he gave a small, almost sheepish nod. No hard feelings, it seemed.

I didn’t respond. Just grabbed my backpack and walked forward, pulse racing. Was this a prank? A peace offering? I had no idea.

Settling into the plush leather seat, I declined the champagne. My mind was spinning.

Two years ago, I’d been working 60-hour weeks at his startup, handling the workload of three people after layoffs. Then came that Friday. He called me in and said the company was “restructuring,” and I was “no longer aligned with the vision.”

I left with a cardboard box and a head full of shame.