The Price of a Winning Number

For five years of marriage, my wife, Maya, always had her ex-husband, Chris, on

her mind, while remaining utterly indifferent to me.

On our wedding anniversary, she suddenly pulled out a scratched lottery ticket,

telling me we'd won two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Before I could even process the joy, she added that Chris was planning to study

abroad, and this money would be perfect for his tuition.

The mortgage foreclosure notice in my hand slipped, hitting the floor with a

soft thud. I stood there, completely stunned.

"Our mortgage is already overdue, and my mom needs fifty thousand for

life-saving surgery!" I couldn't help but confront her. "If you give him that

money, what about our house? What about my mom's illness?"

She frowned, countering, "The mortgage can be delayed a bit longer. We can find

another way to scrape together your mom's surgery fees."

"Chris has been depressed since our divorce, and he's finally picked himself up.

I can't abandon him now," she said self-righteously.

I was silent for a long time, then took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. If you

want to give him the money, give it to him."

"But I won't help you support your ex-husband anymore," I calmly told her.

Maya's face instantly hardened.

"Julian, you're not a child. Stop always bringing up divorce."

"You know my relationship with Chris. He never used to care about anything, and

now, he's finally making plans for the future."

She paused, her eyebrows relaxing, a faint smile playing on her lips:

"This is a good thing. We should support him."

It was August, yet I felt a cold draft creeping up from my ankles, chilling my

entire body.

"So, our mortgage, my mother's illnessyou're abandoning them?"

The smile froze on her face. Maya turned her head away.

"The mortgage can be put off a little longer. Your mother isn't in immediate

danger."

"But my mom's surgery is scheduled for three days from now."

My voice trembled:

"If we don't pay fifty thousand within three days, the surgery won't happen."

Maya stared directly at me, trying to reason:

"It's just that the surgery won't happen, it's not like she's going to die

immediately."

"But Chris has severe depression. If I don't help him, he could commit suicide

at any moment."

"You need to understand what's urgent and what's not."

I felt suddenly dizzy.

My temples throbbed, my mind reeling with disbelief.

"Maya, Chris's severe depression isn't new."

"From the moment we got married, you've said he could commit suicide at any

moment, that we needed to look out for him. Yet, five years later, he's still

alive, isn't he?"

Maya, who had been leaning against the balcony railing, suddenly straightened

up.

"Watch your language. How can you talk about Chris dying?"

I clenched my fist:

"You were the first one to say that word about my mother. You can say it about

my mother, but I can't say it about Chris?"

She immediately looked guilty.

Her previously stiff posture slumped again:

"That's not what I meant. But Chris's depression is because of the divorce; I

have to take responsibility for that."

"His studies abroad will cost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in tuition.

The lottery winnings after tax are just enough. If I have the money but don't

help him, I'll never have peace of mind."

After all the arguing, she was still going to give the money to Chris.

I suddenly felt so tired. I leaned against the doorframe, hearing her phone ring

with its custom tone.

She answered, her voice soft and sweet:

"It's fine, Julian just has that temper. He'll get over it in a couple of days."

"No, I told you I'd pay for your tuition, and I won't go back on my word...

Chris, studying abroad is the best decision you've ever made. Don't give up on

yourself."

She always encouraged him so gently.

My phone vibrated. A message from my mom:

"Julian, the family in the bed next to me gave me so many salted duck eggs. Maya

loves these, doesn't she? Come get them when you have time."

I looked at the smile in Maya's eyes and, for the first time, interrupted her:

"My mom..."

I'd barely spoken two words when she immediately looked up, pressing a finger to

her lips, letting out a sharp shhh.

The tenderness she had for Chris turned entirely into impatience when she faced

me.

In that instant, my words caught in my throat, unable to come out or be

swallowed.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

It was a laugh at her, and even more so, at myself.

Maya's call lasted half an hour. When she finally hung up, smiling, I was

packing my suitcase.

"Where are you going?"

"The hospital, to stay with my mom."

She froze, then pursed her lips:

"Your mom's surgery can be delayed. It's fine if you don't stay with her."

"Tomorrow, I'm going to pay the tuition fees and help Chris buy some things for

his studies. He's worried you'll misunderstand, so he asked me to bring you

along."

My movements didn't stop. I smoothly zipped up the suitcase.

"It's not the first time. There's nothing for me to misunderstand."

"What..."

"From now on, how you want to spend time with him, how much money you want to

give him, it's all up to you."

After changing my shoes, I gave her one last look before closing the door:

"Maya, from today, you can support your ex-husband yourself."

"I'll have my lawyer send you the divorce papers. I'm actually curious, once I

become your ex-husband, will you treat me the same way you treat him?"

At the hospital, Mom still didn't know what had happened.

She proudly showed me the salted duck eggs, reminding me to take them back for

Maya tomorrow.

I didn't nod or shake my head. I just lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling

until dawn.

The next day, shortly after I mailed the divorce papers, Chris called me,

sighing:

"Julian, are you two still fighting?"

"I'm sorry, I always cause you trouble, becoming a burden..."

Patients and family members came and went in the hallway. I suddenly felt

intensely irritated.

"Chris, I'm busy. I don't have time for your sob story."

"If you want to cry, go find Maya. She's free as a bird; she can revolve around

you 24/7."

With that, I hung up and went to the cafeteria to get food for my mom.

My phone rang again while I was in line.

Maya, barely controlling her anger, demanded:

"Julian, how many times have I told you Chris has severe depression and can't be

provoked!"

"How could you call him a burden!"

I frowned, bewildered:

"He said it himself."

Maya immediately flared up:

"You're still denying it? Do you know that because of what you said, Chris cut

his wrists!"

"How could you be so heartless? He's a living, breathing person! I was going to

use the lottery money to help him regain hope, and now you've ruined

everything!"

I immediately stopped, walked to the side, and chilled my tone:

"You know he has severe depression. 'Burden' is his catchphrase; I never said

it."

"Also, he's a life. Is my mom's life not a life?"

"When we got married, you didn't bring any dowry and were buried in debt. My mom

took out her one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in savings to help you pay

off those debts. Now you've won two hundred and fifty thousand, and you can't

even spare fifty thousand for my mom's medical treatment. What right do you have

to call me heartless?"

The other end of the phone fell silent.

Maya seemed to want to speak, then stopped several times:

"I will definitely pay back your mother's money, and I'll find another way to

cover the medical fees."

I gritted my teeth: "Have you signed the divorce papers?"

"I won't sign them. I won't divorce you."

Chris suddenly called her name from nearby. She sped up her words:

"Just calm down, I'll deal with Chris's situation and I promise I'll give you an

explanation."

The call ended.

I took a deep breath, got the food, and brought it to my mom.

Mom sensed something was wrong and asked if we had argued.

I shook my head, quickly changing the subject to avoid it.

But in reality, in our five years of marriage, we had argued for five years

because of Chris.

We were husband and wife, yet her thirty thousand salary had two hundred and

fifty thousand going to her ex-husband. This was a clause she had actively added

to her divorce settlement.

She spent her days chatting with him, taking him to therapy, and traveling with

him every quarter to clear his head.

His messages were always replied to instantly, and if he needed anything, she

would immediately drop me and rush to his side.

Even when my mom had a sudden medical emergency in the middle of the night, Maya

would drive away our only car because Chris "was having a bad day."

I had argued and fussed, but she always came back to the same phrase:

"Chris's depression is because of me; I can't abandon him."

Too much disappointment, accumulated into despair.

But now, my biggest regret was marrying her without hesitation, all because of

the little bit of kindness she showed me back then.

Mom felt sorry for my bare-bones wedding and used all her savings to help Maya

pay off her debts.

She thought this would help us live a good life, but in the end, it was all just

a mess.

After dinner, the nurse suddenly came to find me, saying the card I'd given her

didn't have enough money.

My mind reeled.

That was the eighty thousand dollars I had painstakingly borrowed from friends,

intended for the surgery prepayment.

I urgently called Maya, but she hung up on me ten times.

Just as I was about to call the police, she sent a nonchalant message:

"I transferred the money from the card. Chris's depression has severely

relapsed, and I've booked him a therapist."

I immediately took a taxi to the most exclusive psychology clinic in the area.

In the past, every time Chris had an episode, Maya would take him for treatment.

The cost was ridiculously high, eighty thousand dollars for two hours, and she

always paid.

When I entered, Maya was waiting at the door. Seeing me, she rushed over:

"What are you doing here... Don't make a scene. Chris is in therapy, he can't be

disturbed."

She lowered her voice, trying to pull me away.

I bit down hard on my molars and pushed her away, asking each word clearly:

"That's eighty thousand dollars I borrowed from friends, to pay for my mom's

surgery!"

"Maya, how could you... how could you transfer all of it?!"

I finished shouting, breathing heavily, and the previously quiet hallway filled

with murmurs.

Maya's eyebrows furrowed, and her face darkened:

"I told you, Chris cut his wrists. If I hadn't gotten there in time, he would be

dead. If I don't book him a therapist now, he'll become even more radical!"

"Then why didn't you use your lottery money? Maya, you won two hundred and fifty

thousand dollars!"

Anger made my body rigid, my voice trembling uncontrollably:

"You have a full two hundred and fifty thousand dollars! You could spare a

little and he'd be able to see ten therapists!"

"Why did you touch the eighty thousand dollars I painstakingly gathered? That's

my mother's life-saving money!"

Someone not far away looked over. Maya's throat bobbed.

Her tone was both flustered and resolute:

"That two hundred and fifty thousand is for his studies abroad; it can't be

touched."

I froze, then let out a hollow, absurd laugh.

She sighed heavily:

"I've talked to you about it. I divorced Chris because of personality

differences, but it wasn't until I married you that I found out I was already

pregnant with his child back then."

"I had an abortion to marry you. When he found out, it led to his depression."

"This is what I owe him."

I bit my lip:

"Maya, you can pay back what you owe him yourself, but are you really so eager

for my mom to die?"

Maya's expression instantly changed:

"What nonsense are you saying? Your mom is my mom. How could I possibly want her

to die?"

"I asked a friend about your mom's surgery; it'll be fine if she has it next

year."

"If Chris is okay today, he'll go to Canada to study, and I'll finally be at

peace. I'll work hard and save money for your mom's surgery in the future."

I slowly shook my head:

"I don't believe you!"

"Give the money back right now!"

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the consultation room door suddenly

opened.

Through the crack, I saw Chris crying.

Maya instantly lost her composure, turning to rush inside.

I desperately gripped her sleeve:

"Give me the money back!"

Her entire face was scrunched up. She pushed me away:

"You go home first. I'll contact you as soon as I've calmed Chris down."

The door closed.

Maya's incredibly gentle voice drifted out, comforting him.

I was unwilling to give up, my nerves taut as I was about to pound on the door,

when I suddenly remembered our house.

We had bought it together after we got married. It wasn't big, but it could sell

for several hundred thousand dollars.

Ignoring everything else, I rushed to contact a friend, planning to sell the

house.

But on the way to the housing registry, my friend called, hesitating.

"Julian, your house has already been sold. Didn't you know?"

I gasped. "When?"

"Last month. After all the fees and late penalties, it fetched five hundred

thousand dollars."

"Your wife personally signed the papers. After selling it, she rented it back

from the new owner for six months..."

My fingers loosened, and my phone dropped to the ground.

My last hope had vanished last month.

Every step back to the hospital felt like my legs were filled with lead, hard to

move, yet I couldn't stop.

Only when I reached a red light did I snap back to reality and open Chris's

social media.

Last month, he posted daily fitness videos. He supposedly hired the best

celebrity personal trainer, whose fees were exorbitant, and one-on-one sessions

were double that.

Maya liked every post, and on one, she even sent a clapping emoji.

"Be confident, take your time, I'm always here."

I found it strange back then.

He couldn't find a job due to his depression, and Maya had supported him for

five years. How could he afford hundreds of thousands of dollars for a celebrity

trainer?

But now I understood.

To give him confidence, to prevent him from suicidal thoughts, my wife had sold

the house we bought together and hired him a trainer.

My nails dug deep into my thigh, but I was already numb.

I mechanically answered the hospital's call, apologizing repeatedly, promising

to pay all fees as soon as possible, begging them not to cancel the surgery

schedule.

After hanging up, I looked up at the gloomy sky.

In the two months I dated Maya, I thought I had found true love.

But after five years of marriage, I had nothing.

A sudden clap of thunder struck. I steadied myself and headed back to the

hospital to care for my mom.

That night, I borrowed from every relative and friend I knew, but by morning, it

still wasn't enough.

A friend remarked:

"If Maya hadn't had those debts, your mom's savings would definitely be enough."

I sat bolt upright.

When we got married, Maya had no house, no car, and wasn't a gambler. Where did

these debts come from?

I opened Chris's social media again.

Updated ten minutes ago:

[Going to study abroad in Canada soon. It's a shame to leave the house empty.

Contact me if you want to rent it!]

He has a house?

Didn't Maya say she and Chris had a bare-bones wedding and rented?

The more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt. I went home and pried open

Maya's desk drawer.

She had a habit of keeping everything related to money. There was a stack of

various receipts on top, with the celebrity trainer's payment slip in the

middle.

Flipping to the very bottom, a property purchase contract boldly appeared.

"One hundred thousand dollars, property owner, Chris."

This was the debt she spoke of.

Rage instantly choked me. I pulled out my phone to take photos for my lawyer,

then suddenly noticed several luxury item receipts in the contract.

A watch, bespoke clothing, rings, a bracelet, and cufflinks, totaling almost

fifty thousand dollars.

In the bottom right corner, Maya's handwriting read:

"What I owed you when we got married, I will make up to you little by little."

I opened my mouth, staring in disbelief over and over, then looked at the

purchase date.

It was the second month after Maya and I were married.

We had just returned from our honeymoon, and I was still full of hope for the

future, when she solemnly told me about her ex-husband's illness.

From then on, I was trapped by the words "Chris's severe depression," unable to

escape.

But today I learned that the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars she got from

my mom under the guise of "debt" was used to buy Chris a house and all those

luxury items.

All these years, her concern for her ex-husband wasn't guilt; it was clearly

that she had never truly broken things off with him.

I was just stuck in the middle, wasting five years of my life.

An icy chill shot up from my feet. My heart was completely dead.

I swallowed hard, photographed all the receipts for my lawyer, and then called

the police.

"I want to report a scam. The amount involved is at least one hundred and fifty

thousand dollars, and the perpetrator is about to flee the country by plane. I

request immediate interception!"