It was a dreary afternoon, with the sky hanging heavy and gray, as if the world was holding its breath. The bus hummed along the wet streets, its tires sloshing through puddles. Inside, the passengers were wrapped in the monotony of their own worlds. The bus stopped at an almost deserted stop, the bus shelter deserted except for a slight rustle of rain.
Suddenly, the door creaked open to admit a frail old woman. Her rain-soaked coat clung to her frail form, and her hair, matted and limp from the downpour, stuck to her face. She shuffled forward, clutching a bundle in her hands, every step slow and deliberate.
“Ticket,” the driver muttered without looking up, as though it was an automatic demand.
“I don’t have one,” the old woman replied, her voice soft but steady. “I need to go home. I need medicine.”
The driver, clearly irritated, glanced at her briefly and waved his hand dismissively. “Everyone has their troubles, lady. Without a ticket, you’re off.”
The woman nodded quietly, accepting the refusal without a word of protest. With a trembling hand, she turned to leave. The bus doors hissed shut behind her, leaving her standing in the rain.
The bus rumbled back to life, pulling away without a second thought. The passengers barely stirred, as if the incident had already been forgotten. But as the bus moved on, something changed.
Up ahead, a black car was parked on the side of the road, the driver standing outside, looking agitated. As the bus approached, the old woman appeared again, but this time, she was not alone. The car door opened, and out stepped a young woman, her face full of urgency, rushing toward the bus.
“Stop!” she shouted to the driver, but the bus was already too far ahead. The woman, looking desperate, waved her arms frantically as the bus sped past.
In a split second, the driver’s phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize, but when he answered, his heart dropped. The voice on the other end was calm but firm.
“That woman you kicked off the bus,” the voice said, “She was my mother, and she was the only one who could save your job. That ‘ticket’ you dismissed so easily was a payment from the mayor’s office. She was the key to your promotion.”
The driver’s blood ran cold. The realization hit him like a thunderclap. He had just kicked the woman who was directly linked to his future. What he didn’t know was that the small act of kindness she had offered by paying for everyone’s bus tickets had been her way of staying unnoticed and ensuring people like him never had to pay.
It was too late to turn back, but fate, it seemed, had a way of correcting things in ways no one could predict.