Mark worked downtown at a mid-sized tech consulting firm. I buckled Noah into his car seat, barely aware of the wheel beneath my hands as adrenaline pushed me through traffic. I replayed the moment in my head—how I’d walk in, maybe joke a little first, then tell him we were finally free of financial worry. Mark had been distant lately, always staying late, buried in work, but I told myself this news would bring us back together.
When we arrived at his office, I carried Noah on my hip and smiled at the receptionist, who looked startled but let me pass. Mark’s office door was slightly open. I raised my hand to knock—
—and then I heard it.
My body went rigid. Every nerve screamed as my mind struggled to process what my ears already knew.
I instinctively stepped back, pulling Noah’s face into my shoulder so he wouldn’t see anything if the door opened. My heart slammed against my ribs, so loud I was certain it could be heard. In that instant, the lottery ticket felt like it was scorching my pocket, a cruel reminder. The future I’d imagined only moments earlier dissolved into something I no longer recognized.
I didn’t cry—not yet. Instead, something cold and precise settled in my chest. I had walked into that building believing I was the lucky one. Standing in that hallway, listening to my husband betray me without realizing I was there, I understood that luck alone doesn’t determine who comes out ahead.
