I Confessed to My Boss During a Plane Crash

A business trip took an unexpected turn when our plane ran into disaster. While everyone else was penning their last words, I, an orphan with nothing to lose, decided to have a little fun with my miserly boss.

“Boss, let’s keep this short—I like you.”

“I really, really like you.”

“Boss, this is a final goodbye.”

Just when all hope seemed lost, the captain pulled off a miracle with his years of experience, saving us from the brink of catastrophe.

By the time we landed safely, I was still in a daze until I saw my boss, eyes bloodshot, storming toward me, flanked by a wall of black-suited bodyguards.

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