One year ago, Ashley—my pilot boyfriend’s idealized ex—threw a tantrum mid-flight.

She slammed her high heel into the cabin window, triggering a catastrophic decompression.

As a flight attendant, I fought with everything I had to plug the breach, saving over a hundred lives.

Afterwards, I insisted we call the police. Ashley was sentenced to nine years in prison.

At the time, Louis held me and said he understood my choice, that he loved me.

But later, on our honeymoon, Louis himself piloted the flight to Paradise Island.

When the cabin depressurization alarm blared and passengers screamed, scrambling for oxygen masks,

I rushed to the cockpit and saw a sight I would never forget.

Louis was manually overriding the cabin pressure controls, his face utterly calm.

“What are you doing?”

His voice came through the intercom, each word a knife:

“Stephanie, you sent Ashley to prison, ruined nine years of her life. I’m just making you pay with yours.”

“Now we’re even.”

When I opened my eyes again, everything had reset.

This time, I was done playing the hero. Let’s see how they handle their own mess.

…

A piercing scream clawed me out of the void.

Blinking, I found myself in a seat, the cabin around me so familiar it was etched into my bones. I was wearing civilian clothes.

Panicked passengers scrambled as oxygen masks dropped from the overhead compartments.

Not far away, a figure in a flight attendant’s uniform was shrieking. Beneath her feet, a cabin window webbed with cracks, a fist-sized hole at its center screaming as it sucked the air from the cabin.

Ashley.

My entire body jolted. I snapped my gaze to my wristwatch.

The date, the time—down to the second. Exactly the same.

I had come back.

I’d returned to the day Ashley smashed the airplane window.

In my last life, the moment I heard that shattering sound, I’d unbuckled my seatbelt and charged forward like a robot programmed for rescue.

This time, I pressed down hard on the seatbelt buckle, my knuckles white.

I told myself, *Stephanie, stay calm.*

*This is their mess. Not yours.*

*You’re just a regular passenger on vacation.*

*You have no duty to save anyone.*

“Ah! Help! I don’t want to die!” Ashley slumped on the floor, tears streaking her meticulously applied makeup. A perfect performance.

Donna, the head flight attendant, rushed over first, directing other crew to calm passengers and distribute oxygen bottles.

She glanced at the hole, her face instantly draining of color. Her eyes swept the crowd, finally landing on me.

“Stephanie! Now! Come help! You know what to do!” Donna’s voice held a note of command.

Last time, I’d obeyed without hesitation.

Now, I just calmly put on my own oxygen mask, gave a slight shake of my head, and closed my eyes.

My refusal landed like a bomb in the tense silence.

Donna froze, unable to believe it.

Ashley, as if clutching at straws, scrambled toward me on hands and knees, wailing pitifully, “Stephanie! I know I was wrong! Please, save us! You can’t just let us die!”

Her hand shot out to grab my pant leg. I kicked it away.

“Get lost.”

The entire cabin seemed to fall silent.

Every eye was on me—shock, confusion, but mostly condemnation.

“How can she do that? We’re all in this together!”

“Isn’t she a flight attendant? How can she just stand by?”

“Dressed so nicely, but her heart is so cold!”

Whispers buzzed around me. In my past life, I’d cared so much about that so-called professional reputation and moral pressure.

Now, those words were just noise.

Right then, the cabin speakers crackled with the voice I hated to my core.

“Passengers, please remain calm. This is your captain, Louis. We are initiating an emergency descent. Please trust us. We will ensure your safety.”

His voice was as steady and magnetic as ever, perfectly crafted to soothe.

Then, his tone shifted, taking on an unyielding, commanding edge: “Stephanie, I order you to immediately assist the cabin crew in handling this emergency!”

Order?

A cold laugh escaped me.

Did he think he was still the boyfriend who could boss me around?

I picked up the internal phone behind my seat and pressed the button connecting to the cockpit.

“Captain Louis,” I deliberately emphasized the title, my voice clear and icy, “First, I am currently on leave, not an active crew member. You have no authority to give me orders. Second, according to aviation safety regulations, while off-duty, I have no obligation to participate in any rescue operations.”

Silence on the other end.

I could imagine the shock and fury on Louis’s face.

“Stephanie! Are you insane? There are over a hundred lives on the line!” His voice finally cracked.

“Really?” I gave a light laugh. “And who smashed the window? Your precious Ashley. You should be ordering *her*, not me.”

With that, I hung up.

Ashley was completely dumbfounded. She hadn’t expected me to expose her.

The passengers around us erupted.

“What? That flight attendant did it?”

“Oh my god! Why would she do that?”

“She’s insane! A lunatic!”

Their anger instantly turned on Ashley. A few near her even started shoving.

Terrified out of her wits, Ashley cried and screamed, “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t! She’s lying! Louis! Save me!”

Once again, she pinned her hopes on Louis.

And Louis, true to form, didn’t let her down.

The broadcast came on again, his voice now carrying a protective note: “Passengers, please remain calm! Ashley simply made a momentary mistake! It wasn’t intentional! The most important thing now is to resolve the situation! Stephanie, I know you’re upset with me, but now is not the time for a tantrum!”

So casually, he labeled Ashley’s deadly act a “momentary mistake,” while painting my steely refusal as a “tantrum.”

What a master of twisting the truth, Captain Louis.

I picked up the phone again, my voice cold. “Louis, you want me to save you? Fine. But I have conditions.”

The line went silent for several seconds as Louis weighed his options.

Cabin depressurization. A shattered window.

Even with an emergency descent, every second wasted meant greater danger. He couldn’t afford to gamble.

“What are your terms?” His voice gritted out from between clenched teeth.

I watched the clouds whip past the window and spoke clearly, each word deliberate. “First, you, Louis, will immediately announce over the PA—to every passenger and the control tower—that due to your negligent supervision and mismanagement of personal relationships, crew member Ashley committed a critical safety violation. Then, you will voluntarily ground yourself and submit to investigation.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Louis exploded. “Stephanie, don’t push your luck.”

“I have a second condition,” I continued, ignoring his rage completely. “Make Ashley kneel in the aisle and bow in apology to every single passenger until this plane lands.”

The moment the words left my mouth, not just Louis—the entire cabin seemed to draw a sharp, collective breath.

Ashley shrieked like a cat with its tail stepped on. “You bitch! Who do you think you are! Louis would never agree to that!”

Her eyes darted desperately toward the PA speaker, as though Louis might materialize from it to protect her.

Louis’s voice crackled through again, thick with threat. “Stephanie, this is my final warning. Don’t test me. Remember, you’re on this plane too. If it goes down, you die with the rest of us.”

Using everyone’s lives to threaten me?

How familiar.

In my past life, he’d done the same—using over a hundred lives to force my hand, to make me forgive Ashley.

Too bad for him. I wasn’t that soft-hearted Stephanie anymore.

“Oh? Is that so?” I let out a scornful laugh. “Then let’s all die together. At least on the road to the underworld, I’ll have a decorated captain and his precious ‘momentary lapse’ to keep me company.”

I hung up again, pulled off my oxygen mask, leaned back in my seat, and closed my eyes.

A posture of pure, unbothered resignation: *Your move. I’ll wait.*

Time ticked by.

The cabin air grew thinner. The high-pitched shriek from the breach sharpened—a siren song from the reaper himself.

Passengers grew restless. Some began to cry; others scribbled what looked like final notes.

The fear of death settled over everyone equally.

Donna, the chief flight attendant, was sweating bullets. She directed the crew to stuff pillows and blankets against the hole, but the intense pressure differential sucked them straight out.

“It’s useless!” shouted a middle-aged man who looked experienced. “The pressure differential is too great! If we don’t seal that breach, this plane is going down!”

All eyes turned to me once more.

This time, their gazes held no accusation—only fear and desperate pleading.

Donna rushed to my side, her tone bordering on begging. “Stephanie, I’m begging you! The passengers are innocent! You can’t just sit there and watch everyone die!”

I opened my eyes and gave her a flat look.

Innocent?

In my past life, when Louis and Ashley teamed up to smear me—claiming I’d called the police out of petty jealousy over Ashley—how many of these “innocent” passengers had stepped forward to call me vicious and heartless?

Now they were scared?

“My terms,” I said, unmoved, “are exactly what I just stated.”

Just then, a young mother clutching her child—his face purpling from lack of oxygen—collapsed to her knees before me.

“Please! Save my baby! He’s so little!” Her sobs were raw, gut-wrenching.

I looked at the child, and my heart gave an inevitable, painful twist.

In my past life, I’d had a child too.

Louis’s.

But after a long-haul flight, exhausted, I lost it.

Louis had held me and said, *It’s okay. I’m enough.*

Now, looking back, maybe he was relieved.

Relieved that losing the child cleared the path for Ashley’s arrival.

My heart hardened to stone once more.

Looking down at the kneeling mother, I spoke slowly. “Let him beg Captain Louis. *He’s* the one who values his pride—and Ashley’s—over all your lives.”

My words were the match that lit the fuse.

The passengers’ pent-up fear and fury ignited.

"That's right! Find the Captain!"

"Why should the rest of us die for the two of them?"

"Make them agree! Now!"

The cabin erupted.

Louis had heard the commotion perfectly well.

After a long silence, the intercom crackled back to life, his voice thick with humiliation and resentment. "Alright... Stephanie, I agree."

He paused, took a deep, audible breath, and addressed the whole plane in a flat, emptied tone. "Attention, this is Captain Louis. The current emergency resulted from a serious error by crew member Ashley, stemming from my personal failure in supervision. I accept full responsibility and will voluntarily ground myself pending investigation."

The cabin exploded into uproar.

Every gaze, sharp with contempt and fury, swung toward Ashley, still crumpled on the floor.

All the color drained from her face.

She couldn’t believe it. Her Louis—the man who had always coddled her—had just thrown her to the wolves to save his own skin.

"No... that’s not…" she whispered, eyes vacant.

I stood and walked over, looking down. "Your turn for the second condition."

Ashley looked up, tears welling, her gaze pure venom.

Forced to kneel and kowtow? It was worse than death.

"Stephanie! Don’t push me too far!" she shrieked.

"You still don’t get it, do you?" I sneered, crouching until my lips were at her ear, my voice a whisper for her alone. "You think Louis caved to save everyone? Wrong. He did it to save himself. If this plane goes down, the captain is the first to take the blame. And do you really think a man who just admitted to gross mismanagement in front of everyone gives a damn about you now?"

Her body began to tremble violently.

I’d struck right at the nerve of her deepest fear.

"Keep stalling," I added, my voice a low, deliberate murmur, like the whisper of a devil. "And soon, not even Louis—not even a god—will be able to save you. And then? All these lives? They’ll be on your head."

Survival instinct finally crushed her pathetic pride.

Clenching her teeth, her whole body shaking, Ashley slowly sank to her knees.

She lifted her head, looked at the ring of furious faces around her, and with utter humiliation, slammed her forehead against the cold floor.

"I’m… I’m sorry…"

With each kowtow, she muttered the apology.

The passengers’ rage seemed to cool a fraction with every muffled thud.

I didn’t spare her another glance, turning instead toward the breached window.

"Donna! Bring all the bandages and tape from the first-aid kits! And every pillow, blanket, and cushion on this plane!" I commanded, voice firm. "Find me some strong male passengers to help!"

In that moment, I was Stephanie again—the cool, professional Chief Stewardess from my past life.

Donna and the other flight attendants sprang into action.

Supplies quickly gathered at my feet.

Assessing the hole: small, but the cracks around its edges were spiderwebbing outward.

"We need a hard brace first, then soft material to pack it, then layer upon layer of tape to seal it!" I instructed the men who’d stepped forward.

Shrugging off my jacket, I wrapped a metal meal tray tightly in a blanket and pressed it against the breach.

A massive suction force instantly tried to rip it—and me—right out into the void.

"Now! Hold me!" I yelled.

Two men lunged forward, one wrapping his arms around my waist, the other bracing against my back.

"Tear the pillows and blankets into strips! Stuff every gap!" I kept directing.

Everyone scrambled to pack the hole.

Then, in that critical moment, another scream pierced the air.

"Ah!"

I glanced back. Ashley, who had just finished her kowtows, had somehow gotten to her feet. Staggering toward us—probably trying to "help" and salvage some face—her foot caught, and she stumbled, falling directly toward me.

"Look out!"