“Who hit my car?!” My boss’s voice echoed through the lot, and my heart sank. Of all the cars I could have hit, it had to be his. His face was red with frustration as he scanned the lot for the culprit. Embarrassed and with nowhere to hide, I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “It was me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. His eyes widened, and for a moment, there was pure silence between us. I could feel the stares of a few coworkers lingering around the parking lot, making the situation even more humiliating.

I quickly assured him that I would take full responsibility for the damage. “I’ll cover the repairs,” I said, my voice firm despite my nerves. He exhaled sharply, clearly still irritated but slightly less furious. “You’d better,” he muttered, inspecting the scratch with a grimace. I stood there awkwardly, waiting for the inevitable lecture or reprimand. Instead, after a long pause, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Accidents happen,” he grumbled, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely ready to let it go.

The rest of the day felt painfully slow, and I couldn’t shake the embarrassment. Every time I passed my boss, I felt a wave of guilt, even though I knew I was doing the right thing by owning up to my mistake. Later that afternoon, I sent him a message confirming that I’d arrange for the repairs as soon as possible. He replied with a simple “Thanks,” and that was that. It wasn’t the best way to start the day, but at least I had faced the situation head-on.