The bar was dim, filled with the thick scent of beer and old wood, the kind of place people came to when they wanted to forget the world outside. Jack sank into the stool at the far end of the counter and didn't bother to remove his coat. He slouched over the bar like a defeated man, and in truth, that's all he felt like. Defeated. Exhausted. Hollow. The bartender glanced at him once, said nothing, and silently placed a glass of whiskey in front of him. Jack took a sip and winced. The burn felt good.
Time blurred. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring into the golden liquid like it held some kind of answer. The bar was half full now, and the voices around him rose and fell like waves. Two guys sat beside him, already well into their cups. They were laughing loudly, slapping each other's backs, and talking nonsense about how they'd blow a hundred million dollars if they ever got lucky.
"I swear, man, if I win that lottery, I'm disappearing," the bald one said, slurring every other word. "Straight to Bali. I'm gonna marry three women and buy a yacht for my dog."
The second one laughed and nearly spilled his drink. "Nah, bro. If I win, I'm buying a damn city. Imagine it. A whole city, named after me. Bobville."
They cracked up, laughing so hard one of them choked on his drink. Jack gave a small, bitter smile and took another sip. He didn't intend to join their conversation. He didn't have the energy. But somehow, one of them noticed his silence.
"Hey, you there," the guy with the buzzcut said, leaning toward him. "You play tonight? Got a ticket, huh?" Jack chuckled under his breath, the sound dry and hollow. "Yeah," he muttered. "Got one somewhere."
"Oooh," the bald guy said, leaning forward. "Let's see it, my guy. C'mon, make us all jealous." Jack sighed and reached into his pocket without thinking. He pulled out the ticket, wrinkled from being crushed in his jacket, and slid it across the counter toward them like it meant nothing. "Here. Knock yourself out."
The first dude snatched it up and squinted at the numbers. "You wrote these down or quick pick?" "Quick pick," Jack said flatly, staring at the wall. Baldy pulled out his phone and opened the lottery app. "Let's see, let's see. Winning numbers just dropped twenty minutes ago."
They were clearly joking at first. Just drunk guys having fun. But the laughter died off fast. The more numbers they read, the more quiet they became. "One... seven... twenty-four..." Buzzcut read slowly. "Thirty-two... forty-nine... fifty-five... and Powerball is sixteen."
Jack barely heard them. He was lost in his drink. But something shifted in the silence beside him. He looked up and saw both men frozen. The ticket was still in Buzzcut's hand, but his eyes were locked on the screen. Baldy looked like he had just seen a ghost.
"Bro," Baldy whispered. "This guy just hit the whole thing."
Jack blinked. "What?"
"No, like, dude. You just won. This is the winning ticket. You hit the jackpot." Buzzcut shoved the phone in front of him. "Look for yourself. Every number matches." Jack stared at the screen. The numbers matched. Not one or two. All of them. He looked at the ticket again, then back at the phone. His heart stopped. Then, he started racing so fast he thought it would burst through his chest. He read the numbers out loud to himself. Once. Twice. Then again.
There was no mistake.
He had won.
His hand trembled as he picked up the ticket and stared at it like it might vanish if he blinked. The room felt smaller. Louder. The light seemed brighter. He was struggling to breathe. Buzzcut grabbed him by the shoulder. "Man, listen. We gotta celebrate. You just won the freaking lottery. This is once in a lifetime, brother." Baldy raised his glass and shouted. "Drinks on Jack!" Jack didn't even remember telling them his name.
Before he could speak, the two men were suddenly his best friends. They patted his back like they'd known him for years. They laughed and called him "big money" and offered advice like he had asked. One was telling him to get a lawyer. The other was suggesting real estate investments. Someone handed him a fresh drink. Then another.
But Jack's mind had already left the bar.
He wasn't thinking about drinks or celebrations. He wasn't even thinking about the jackpot. He was thinking about Samantha. She hadn't answered his calls for days. She had been cold, distant, disrespectful. She made him feel like nothing. She embarrassed him. Ignored him. Let another man touch her, laugh with her, and eat with her. But now things were different.
Now he was rich.
Now he had power.
He stood up so fast that the stool fell behind him. His breath was shallow and fast. The men beside him were still laughing, still trying to high-five him, but he wasn't listening anymore.
He held the ticket tight in his hand and turned for the door, his steps long and urgent. He pushed through the bar like a man possessed. The night air hit his face like a slap, but it didn't slow him down. He knew exactly where he was going.
Home. To the apartment he had shared with Samantha. She would be there this time. He was sure of it. She had to be. And if she wasn't, he would wait. He would show her the ticket. He would tell her everything had changed. That he was a new man. and everything she ever wanted, he could now give her.
He was certain, with all his heart, that she would finally accept him.
Now that he was rich. She would love him.