After dinner, my boyfriend and I bought lottery tickets together. He said cash was tight and asked me to cover it. Of the two tickets, one hit the $5 million jackpot. The other was a dud. His face instantly changed. "The $5 million one is mine." Technically, he wasn't wrong—the winning numbers were given to him by a psychic. They were his "lucky numbers." 1 Mark and I had just walked out of the restaurant. I offered to split the bill, but he let out a heavy sigh and said, "No need, Joy. I'm just mostly stressed about the wedding fund..." He started rambling, "You know I have three brothers. My older brother isn't married yet, and my little brother is still in high school. My parents can't possibly give all their savings to me. "My mom said your family's expectations for a wedding contribution are ridiculously inflated! Who asks for that much? She said the neighbor's daughter only asked her fiancé's family for ten grand to help with a down payment." I listened in silence. Because Mark's family was significantly wealthier than mine. My parents were gifting us a brand-new car for the wedding—a gift that literally took half their life savings to buy. Meanwhile, ten grand was probably just a fraction of his family's monthly income. 2 Because of our financial disparity, I never dared to buy expensive things while dating Mark, nor did I ever accept any pricey holiday gifts from him. When we were in college, to ease his financial burden, I proactively suggested we go 50/50 on everything. So, without me realizing it, even after he started working and making a great salary, he still fully expected me to split every single penny. The first time we got a room together, we went to a high-end luxury hotel. I slept incredibly well that night, but when I woke up, I found him staring at me, looking like he wanted to say something but holding back. Finally, as we were checking out, he muttered, "This hotel was pretty expensive." I instantly understood what he meant, but I deliberately stayed quiet. On the Uber ride home, I Venmo'd him my half of the room cost. But from that day on, we never stayed in a hotel that cost more than a hundred bucks a night. 3 Buying lottery tickets after dinner was a little tradition of ours. Mark said he didn't have any spare cash on him and asked me to front the money. I bought two tickets, holding the receipt as I walked out of the convenience store with him. Sitting in the backseat of our Uber, the two of us remained completely silent. My apartment was on the way to Mark's place. Because of that, he used to walk me home every single night during our three years of high school. Because of our eight-year history, I tolerated all his flaws. In my eyes, we started dating as students, and it always felt like we just had to listen to whatever our parents said. The driver dropped me off first. Before I even closed the car door, Mark suddenly poked his head out: "You need to think about this carefully and talk some sense into your parents. We've been together for eight years... Besides, you're not getting any younger, and you're not a virgin anymore. Who else would want you besides me?" Before he could say anything else, the driver pulled away. Normally, Mark never brought up the post-dinner lottery tickets again. If we won, we'd split it; if we lost, I just treated it as me buying two tickets and having bad luck. On the day of the drawing, I checked the numbers over and over again until I was absolutely certain I wasn't hallucinating. My hands shook violently as I gripped the ticket. The second I confirmed the win, I flipped my phone into airplane mode. Five million dollars. Even after taxes, I'd still clear around three million. To be safe, I planned to go straight to the lottery headquarters to claim it. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside my door, followed by a violent pounding. I heard Mark screaming at the top of his lungs: "Joy! Open the door! Open it! I know you're in there! Open this damn door right now!!!" "Why aren't you answering my calls?! Are you trying to keep it all for yourself?!" "Open the door first, let's talk face-to-face!" 4 Only an idiot would talk to him face-to-face! If he actually tried to physically snatch it from me, how could I fight him off? I braced myself against the door, dragged over the sofa, chairs, and anything heavy I could find to barricade it, and then shouted back: "I don't know what you're talking about! If you don't stop screaming outside my apartment, I'm calling 911!" He sounded absolutely furious: "You don't know?! You don't know why you deadbolted the door?! Why you're ignoring my calls, refusing to leave the house, and cutting off contact?! That is FIVE MILLION DOLLARS! Are you that desperate for money?! Get your ass out here right now!" I lost it. While dialing 911, I screamed back at him: "Mark! You're the one desperate for money! You know damn well that's five million dollars! Look at yourself, do you even act like a man?! You want to go 50/50 on everything, you wouldn't even pay for condoms or a cheap hotel room without me pitching in! If we win, we split it, if we lose, I pay for it! Your skin is thicker than the calluses on my feet!" "...Yes, officer, you can hear him right? He's blocking my door right now. Yes, 231 Oakwood Drive, Apartment 4B..." 5 The police arrived promptly. The two of us ended up sitting in an interview room at the precinct, glaring daggers at each other. A younger officer coughed and said, "Look, why don't you two just talk this out? You're a couple, I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding..." "What misunderstanding? Officer, I haven't done anything. He showed up at my apartment and started trying to bash my door in. That's a threat to my physical safety, isn't it? I want to press charges for harassment." Mark looked at me and sneered, "You know you're in the wrong, that's why you won't bring it up, huh?" "Fine, I'll say it. You put your phone on airplane mode just to hide from me, didn't you?" "And that pile of furniture barricading your door? You have a guilty conscience, that's why you didn't dare open the door and talk to me!" "I only have one demand right now—give me the ticket." He leaned in close, his tone menacing. I laughed. "I bought the ticket. Why on earth would I give it to you?" I turned to the police officers. "Officers, this counts as attempted robbery, right? You can arrest him right now." He panicked. "What kind of nonsense are you spouting?! Officers, it's obvious she's trying to embezzle the money! She stole my lottery ticket! That counts as grand theft, right? Arrest her!" "Alright, alright, knock it off, both of you." An older, more seasoned cop tapped the table, coughing as he spoke. "I'm warning you, this is a police station. Everything you say goes on the record, so don't try to play games. And seriously, is it worth ruining your relationship over a lottery ticket? A couple thousand bucks isn't even enough to cover wedding expenses!" We shouted in unison: "It's five million dollars!" The two cops fell dead silent, staring at each other in shock. Finally, the older cop put on a serious face. "Well..." He turned to Mark. "Young man, you speak first." 6 Mark launched into a long, rehearsed speech: "Officer, I'm the one who always plays those specific numbers. If you don't believe me, look—I have the payment record." He picked up his phone, showing the officers his transaction history line by line, casting smug, sideways glances at me the whole time. The two cops nodded along, occasionally muttering "Ah" and "Mhm," validating his story. It was obvious that this older cop's internal scales were tipping in favor of his fellow man. My stomach dropped a little. It was true. The reason I put my phone on airplane mode the second I realized I won was precisely because the winning numbers were the exact sequence Mark always played. Whenever we bought tickets after dinner, I would choose random numbers, while Mark religiously played his predetermined set. I thought it was weird and asked him about it once. He said his mom had paid an expensive astrologer on the boardwalk to calculate those numbers for him. The guy promised that playing them would guarantee him a lifetime of wealth and luxury. So he stubbornly bought that exact sequence for a decade, rain or shine. Only occasionally, after dinner, would he ask me to buy the ticket for him. Later, I actually went to find that "master astrologer" he talked about. Honestly, I don't believe in psychics or curses. The old guy with the wispy white beard looked at Mark, then at me. Probably figuring we were naive kids, he demanded $888 right off the bat. I turned around to leave. Mark tried to stop me: "This old guy is super accurate! You'll see once he reads you!" The old man shouted after me, "You wicked girl! Let me tell you, you're going to suffer a tragic accident when you turn 25! You have a cursed aura, you're a jinx! If you want to break this curse, you must... sigh!" Thinking back on it now, was this the "tragic accident" that old fraud was talking about? Just because I supposedly stole his fortune? Hilarious! Even if a piece of garbage like Mark had good fortune, it would be entirely wasted on him! Life was so unfair. My parents had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives just to barely pay off their mortgage, while his parents ran shady businesses and made a fortune, yet they refused to spend a single dime on their future daughter-in-law! While I was silently fuming, the older cop hesitated and said, "Son, you make a fair point. You did play those numbers. But that was in the past. How can you prove she bought this specific ticket on your behalf?" I nodded vigorously. But Mark, completely prepared, shot me a dirty look and pointed at my phone: "Turn off airplane mode and open Venmo." ... Right there on my screen was a transfer from him, sent just past 9 PM. That was before the numbers were drawn. Meaning, this was unquestionably the "lottery money" he had sent me. I instantly tensed up. That cheapskate Mark purposely used Venmo so it would auto-deposit—I didn't even have the chance to decline it! The older cop looked at me with pity and shook his head. "Well, my hands are tied, miss. He transferred the money to you, so legally, it counts as his ticket. Besides, he's been playing those numbers for years. If you suddenly snatch his win, you're stealing his karma. That's bad for your own luck!" I cursed more in my head today than I had in the past year combined. I rolled my eyes. Just as I was about to speak, Mark chimed in again: "Joy, I know you're just angry... but whether the five million goes to me or you, isn't it the same thing? This is the startup fund for our new family. With this, our life together will be so much easier." Mark's expression looked incredibly sincere. I'd seen this act before. Every time we were about to have a massive fight, he would lecture me first, then lower his voice and talk about "us." He always managed to confuse me and smooth things over, but this time, I wasn't buying a single word of it. No wonder they say men turn bad when they get rich—women turn bad when they get rich, too. Right now, even if I told him to bark like a dog, I bet he wouldn't dare make a peep in protest. But Mark's shamelessness still managed to exceed my expectations. He continued, "How about this? You treat this lottery ticket as your dowry, and I won't ask for the car..." I froze, feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been thrown in my face. My mind instantly cleared. "What do you mean, you 'won't ask for the car'? Did you actually think that car was for you?! That was a gift from my parents to me!" "Well, what else would it be?" he replied matter-of-factly. "I'm paying for the wedding, so the car should go to me, right? You really expect to just pocket five million dollars and leave me with nothing? Joy, you weren't this much of a gold digger in college." "Right. Fine. I'm a gold digger. You're so noble. You're the most noble person on earth." I nodded, picking up my purse and preparing to walk out. "I don't want a wedding anymore. Are you happy?" Mark's face instantly lit up with joy, but he still muttered, "How can we do that? We have to spend at least a few thousand... Don't worry, I'll let my mom handle the whole wedding. I promise it'll be beautiful, you won't lose face. As for the car..." He seemed to grit his teeth, enduring physical pain to continue: "Buying a twenty or thirty thousand dollar car is enough for us. We'll live a nice, peaceful life together... I knew you were the right girl for me, Joy." I laughed. "You're overthinking it. I don't want a wedding, and we're not getting married. Keep your few thousand bucks and go marry your mom." 7 I ignored the two cops and dropped one final sentence: "The security cameras show me paying at the counter. The cashier took my money. I don't care what time you sent that Venmo. If you're cheap, don't pretend to be a big shot, and then have the nerve to call me a gold digger. Have you no shame?" I pointed right at his nose and cursed him out, using every dirty word I had learned in my entire life. The two cops were dumbfounded. By the time they finally pulled me back, I had completely eviscerated Mark. He was so furious he looked like he wanted to lunge forward and hit me. I waved dismissively at the officers. "Officers, I'm really not being greedy. Just consider this his breakup fee to me. After all, a guy who makes his girlfriend front the money for a lottery ticket couldn't hold onto a fortune even if it landed in his lap. Wouldn't you agree?" I slammed the door and left, heading straight to the state lottery headquarters. After going through all the procedures, I sat quietly, waiting for the staff's phone call. It wasn't until over three million dollars safely hit my bank account that I finally felt a sense of peace. I counted the zeros over and over again. My heart felt warm, and my entire mood lifted. No wonder rich people are so happy. I was already thinking way less about Mark's punchable face. Just as I was relaxing, my phone rang. It was my mom. Her voice was frantic and choked with tears: "Joy! Mark is saying you stole his money! He's saying you're shameless, that you cheated on him with another man! He's blocking our front door and screaming right now! What's going on?!" I hung up the phone and rushed straight to my parents' house. When I arrived, my mom was covering her face, crying. A massive crowd had gathered outside our door. Leading the pack was Mark, and his parents were right there with him. A bunch of nosy neighbors were gossiping: "Look, there's the thief." "Stealing at her age, she's gonna get beaten to death when she's older!" "They were about to get married, and now his family is here cursing her out. Let's see who'd ever marry her now!" However, all those whispers vanished the second they saw the ten burly, broad-shouldered security guards in black suits standing right behind me. I smiled and walked up to Mark and his parents. "If you have something to say, let's talk." 8 Mark's parents were relatively young, dressed in expensive clothes, and looked intimidating. "Joy, if your parents didn't teach you better, you shouldn't just play dumb, right? That was obviously my son's lottery ticket. You cutting off our family's fortune is literally ruining our livelihood!" I looked at the solid gold bracelets, gold necklace, and gold earrings she was wearing, thinking to myself that their "fortune" must be completely blind. I cleared my throat, and the ten massive guards behind me stepped forward in unison. Mark's parents flinched, but his dad tried to put up a tough front: "Look, Joy, how about this? We'll just pretend today never happened. Let's not ruin the family harmony. As long as we can see you and Mark living a good life, we'll be at peace..." "Don't worry, you're still our top choice for a daughter-in-law. How about we officially get you two engaged next month?" He winked meaningfully at Mark. So this was a forced marriage attempt. I waved my hand, shielding my parents behind me. "Not a chance. Who the hell wants to be your daughter-in-law? I've been wanting to say this for a long time. You—" I pointed at Mark. "Every time we eat, you inhale your food like you're terrified I might eat one more bite than you. You complain and whine about paying for an Uber. You won't even spend two hundred bucks on a hotel room. It's always 'my mom and dad' this, 'my mom and dad' that. What, am I marrying you or your parents?" "Honestly, if you love going 50/50 so much, why even get married? Can you give birth? You only want to get married to trap me with a kid, right? But let me tell you, Mark, from the very beginning, I never planned on having kids with you." "And you two—" I turned to his parents. "Since we're not going to be in-laws, I'll just speak my mind. You guys are loaded, but you absolutely refused to pitch in a dime for the wedding." "My parents worked hard for half their lives to buy me a car as a wedding gift. What gave you the right to demand it be put in your son's name? Do you want to know why your oldest son is still a bachelor in his thirties? He has his generous, open-handed parents to thank for that!" I turned and smiled. "But then again, birds of a feather flock together. You guys deserve each other—a whole family of cheapskates. It's just a shame your oldest son is going to die a bachelor!" "Joy Vance!" Mark's mom shrieked, swinging her designer handbag, trying to hit me. "Watch your dirty mouth! Whose son is going to die a bachelor?! He... he just has high standards!" The moment she spoke, several bodyguards surrounded them, forming an impenetrable wall. I waved my hand and helped my parents inside the house. Let them throw a fit. Whoever has the money makes the rules. Before I could figure out how to explain everything, my mom threw herself into my arms, trembling. "Joy, why didn't you ever tell us any of this?!" My dad patted my shoulder, his head bowed, a bitter expression on his face. I was silent for a long time before finally saying, "I thought he was just frugal..." No, the bigger reason was our eight-year relationship. Mark was a constant throughout my high school and college years. During those eight years, I never had the chance to meet anyone else, and I naturally assumed that women shouldn't take financial advantage of men in a relationship. But how was that a relationship? It was just two roommates splitting the bills!
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