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John pressed his head against the window glass as the bus pulled out of Sydney. The rumble underneath felt steady, almost comforting, though his body was tired from travel. His phone ringed in his pocket. It was his wife calling, her voice soft and warm as always, asking if the long flight from Delhi to Sydney went smooth. He said yes, told her he was fine, tried to sound cheerful. Deep inside though he felt the heavy stretch of distance.

He put the phone back into his jacket. That was when she came. A young woman, in her twenties maybe, slid into the seat beside him. Light perfume, not strong, just enough to notice. She smiled like she had already known him. He smiled back without thinking.

The bus rolled on, and words started to spill. It began simple, where are you going, what do you do, what music do you like. Then it shifted, stories of travel, strange little things about life, even secrets too easy to tell a stranger. Hours blurred away like that. John found himself laughing, really laughing, the kind that shakes your chest. He hadn’t felt it in a long time.

When the bus slowed near Canberra, Tina yes, she had said her name was Tina turned toward him. She offered her hand, warm and sure, and before he could even react she pressed a card into his palm. A smile followed, not loud, but enough to leave something burning behind. Then she walked away, her steps light, not waiting for his answer.

John froze on the platform. The card sat in his hand like a weight. Why did she give it? Maybe she wanted company, maybe she saw the loneliness in his eyes even though he never spoke of it. Or maybe she just enjoyed the game, teasing out curiosity from a married man who still carried himself like he wasn’t fully tied.

His chest tightened. His wife’s voice still echoed in memory, yet the pull toward Tina was sharp. He slipped the card into his pocket instead of throwing it away. That single act already told the truth. He wasn’t free of the temptation.

What next? He asked himself over and over as he walked toward the taxi stand. He could call her later, meet for coffee, no one would ever know. That was one path. But the other path showed his wife waiting back home, smiling, trusting, never imagining what card now hid in his pocket.

Did he take advantage? Not yet. But he didn’t let go either. That guilt was heavier than the thrill. His hand touched the card again and again, like it carried both pleasure and poison.

What feeling lingered? At first, sweetness. Tina’s smile was like a spark, making him feel young again, alive. But bitterness came just as fast. Every laugh they shared replayed against his wife’s laugh, the one he had taken for granted. It hurt in a way he hadn’t expected.

Now, if the story twisted one way, John would call Tina. They would meet, talk, maybe drink, and let the hours tumble into something hidden. For a time he’d feel powerful, like he had stolen a second life. But secrets never sleep. A forgotten card in his jacket, a wrong message at the wrong time, and suddenly everything he built could collapse.

Or picture the other turn. John pulls out the card right there at the station, tears it in two, drops it into a bin before climbing into the taxi. He feels lighter, not proud but relieved, as though he has escaped something he wasn’t strong enough to face twice.

That’s the thing with two-timing. It never starts with big choices. It starts small. A smile, a seat next to you, a talk that drifts too far. And then the heart splits. One side hungry for excitement, the other heavy with loyalty.

In John’s story the true question is not why Tina gave her number. The real question is what John wanted most when no one was watching. The fight wasn’t between him and Tina. It was between the man he thought he was and the man he could become if he followed temptation.

That’s where the story ends, with John holding both the card and the silence of his own thoughts. The choice is his, and whatever he chooses, that choice will follow him longer than the bus ride ever did.

I invite @calculuseyo1 @promisezella @kwinberry to take part in this contest.