I froze when she told me, “We have a situation, and we need your assistance.”

My heart pounded. Was I in trouble? Was this about the seat switch? I hesitated before following her down the narrow aisle, glancing back at the father and his daughter. The girl had calmed down slightly but was still sniffling, her wide eyes fixed on the window I refused to give up. The father watched me, his expression unreadable.

We reached the back of the plane, where another flight attendant stood near the galley. “Ma’am, we noticed there was some tension between you and the family next to you. We want to ensure all our passengers have a comfortable flight. Would you be open to moving to a different seat?” the stewardess asked gently.

I exhaled, relieved that it wasn’t something more serious. But still, the question irritated me. “I booked a window seat. I paid for it. Why should I move just because a child is throwing a tantrum?” My voice was firm but controlled.

The second stewardess exchanged a glance with the first. “We understand. However, there is an empty seat in business class. We can upgrade you if you’re willing to move.”

My annoyance evaporated instantly. An upgrade? I tried to mask my excitement, but I nodded. “Yes, I’ll take it.”

As they led me toward the front, I felt the father’s eyes on me. I couldn’t resist glancing at him. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The girl had turned toward him, confused. “Daddy, where is she going?”

“She’s getting a better seat,” he muttered, shaking his head. I caught a trace of disapproval in his voice, but I ignored it.

As I settled into my plush new seat, I sighed, letting the comfort of extra legroom and a complimentary drink wash over me. This was better. The stress melted away, and I almost laughed at how things had worked out in my favor.

But then, guilt crept in.