The bus stopped at the Canberra terminal. John’s heart pounded but not from the ride. It was from the delicate card now tucked in his palm. Tina, it read, in soft gold letters. Her phone number was also there. Her perfume fragrance was still on the fabric of the seat beside him.

Source

Three hours ago he was simply a man on a work trip. He was thinking about the dinner which his wife had promised to make when he returned. But the laughter of Tina had carved cracks. She was young and adventurous. She spoke like every moment was a secret.

John sat frozen as passengers filed out. A war raged in his mind—curiosity against loyalty, temptation against guilt. “It’s just a card,” he told himself, shoving it into his jacket. “She was being friendly. Nothing more.”

But deep down, he knew Tina hadn’t slipped it to him like a casual acquaintance. The glint in her eyes when their hands touched… it wasn’t casual.

That night in the hotel room John placed the card on the table. He stared at it the way just like staring at a cliff edge. He was terrified and thrilled. His wife’s smiling photo on his phone screen seemed to accuse him silently. He picked it up. He typed “I reached safely. I miss you” and hit send. Then he picked up the card again.

The next day the curiosity won. He dialed the number. Tina’s voice was soft but electric. “I was wondering if you would call,” she said. “There is an art gallery near the lake. Meet me there at 7?”

His conscience screamed, Do not do this. His heart whispered, Just a conversation. No harm.

By 7 he was there. Tina arrived in a red dress. She was smiling as if she had always known he would come. They walked. They laughed. They talked about dreams and regrets. Under the dim lights her hand brushed his and they stayed.

In that moment time slowed. John saw two versions of himself:
One stepping forward while abandoning his vows for an intoxicating escape.
Another stepping back remembering the quiet sacrifices his wife made to keep their life steady. A sudden heaviness filled his chest. He pulled his hand away.

“Tina,” he said quietly, “I can not. I’m married. I love my wife even if sometimes I forget how lucky I am.”

The smile of Tina faded. Then softened into something almost respectful. “Then go back to her. Do not lose something real chasing a spark.”

John exhaled like he had been holding his breath all night. They walked out of the gallery in silence. At the exit Tina gave him one last smile. It was not playful this time. But it was wistful. In this while she disappeared into the city crowd.

Back in his hotel room John tore the card in half and flushed it down the sink. He called his wife. He said that I just wanted to hear your voice. His voice was trembling.

That night he slept peacefully. It was for the first time since the bus ride. Sometimes the strongest thing a person can do is to walk away from something which causes harm or put one to the difficult situation.

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I invite @wudi, @josepha, @afrinn.