Ten million.

Tu Niem stared at the number until her fingers went cold.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Chu Phong.

He was not smiling.

He was staring at the ticket.

Too carefully.

In three years together, Tu Niem had learned one thing about him:

Chu Phong could spend money faster than most people could earn it.

A new phone because his old one was “embarrassing.”

Designer shoes because colleagues had them.

Dinner for friends because “a man has to have face.”

Every time Tu Niem worried about their wedding fund, he laughed.

“Why are you always so calculating?”

But now there were ten million yuan beneath her fingers.

And suddenly, Tu Niem wanted to know something.

If this money appeared today…

would Chu Phong still see her as his future wife?

Or only as an account he could spend?

She covered the ticket with her palm.

Then sighed dramatically.

“Nothing again.”

She crumpled it.

“Trash lottery.”

And tossed it toward the garbage bin beside the counter.

Chu Phong’s eyes followed the paper ball all the way down.

Tu Niem noticed.

He immediately looked away.

“I need the bathroom.”

“Go.”

He disappeared.

Tu Niem calmly pushed the cart forward.

Because the ticket she had thrown away—

was not the winning ticket.

The moment Chu Phong turned toward the cashier to complain about the price of the potato chips, Tu Niem had slipped the winning ticket into the inner zipper pocket of her handbag.

She had crumpled his losing ticket instead.

Five minutes later, Chu Phong came running back.

His face was red with excitement.

In his hand was the crumpled card.

“Wife!”

He waved it.

“Two thousand yuan!”

Tu Niem looked at the garbage bin.

Then at him.

“You found that where?”

Chu Phong hesitated for half a second.

“On the floor.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I checked again. You scratched it wrong.”

He laughed.

“We almost threw away two thousand!”

Tu Niem smiled.

“Good thing you found it.”

He kissed her forehead.

“We’re lucky today.”

Lucky.

That evening, Tu Niem verified the winning ticket carefully.

Ten million.

It was real.

She told no one.

Not her parents.

Not her closest friend.

Especially not Chu Phong.

The next morning, Chu Phong suddenly became unusually generous.

He bought breakfast.

He even transferred Tu Niem eight hundred yuan.

She stared at the payment.

“What’s this?”

“Your share of yesterday’s prize.”

“Wasn’t it two thousand?”

He answered immediately:

“I bought the ticket, remember?”

Tu Niem looked at the screen.

She had paid for the groceries.

He had taken the ten yuan from her wallet.

But she did not argue.

Instead, she typed:

Okay.

Then waited.

Three days later, Chu Phong came home carrying brochures.

“Look.”

He spread them across the table.

Cars.

Not ordinary cars.

Luxury models.

Tu Niem raised an eyebrow.

“What are these?”

“For after we get married.”

“With what money?”

Chu Phong grinned.

“I’ve been thinking. Once we combine finances, there’s no point in being so stingy anymore.”

Tu Niem slowly closed the brochure.

“Our wedding savings are only eighty thousand.”

“So?”

“This car costs six hundred thousand.”

“We can borrow.”

“No.”

His smile disappeared.

“Here you go again.”

“Again what?”

“Always killing every dream with numbers.”

Tu Niem looked at him.

Perhaps because she now had ten million hidden away, his words suddenly sounded different.

Before, she had always wondered whether she was too cautious.

Too boring.

Too obsessed with saving.

Now she realized something.

Chu Phong did not hate numbers.

He hated numbers that prevented him from spending someone else’s money.

That weekend, he gave her another surprise.

His mother and younger brother arrived unexpectedly.

His mother sat down and said:

“Niem, since you two are getting married, we should settle the housing issue.”

Tu Niem looked at Chu Phong.

He avoided her eyes.

“What housing issue?”

His mother smiled.

“The apartment for his brother.”

Tu Niem almost thought she had misheard.

“Why would I buy his brother an apartment?”

His mother frowned.

“Not you. You and Chu Phong.”

Chu Phong finally spoke.

“My brother is getting serious with his girlfriend. Her family wants him to have property.”

“And?”

“We’re family.”

There it was.

The sentence people used when the bill belonged to someone else.

Tu Niem asked:

“How much are you expecting from me?”

His mother answered before Chu Phong could.

“Only three hundred thousand for the deposit.”

Only.

Tu Niem smiled.

“I don’t have it.”

Chu Phong looked sharply at her.

“You have savings.”

“Our wedding fund.”

“We can earn that again.”

Tu Niem stared at him.

“You told your mother I would agree before asking me?”

His expression became impatient.

“Why are you embarrassing me?”

That night, after everyone left, they argued.

For the first time, Tu Niem did not apologize to end it.

Chu Phong finally snapped:

“You’re going to be my wife. Why do you keep separating your money from mine?”

She looked at him.

“Then why was the two-thousand-yuan lottery prize divided eight hundred for me and twelve hundred for you?”

He froze.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I bought the ticket.”

“With money from my wallet.”

Silence.

Tu Niem smiled faintly.

“Interesting.”

That was the moment she made her decision.

The next week, she claimed the prize through the proper process and placed the money into accounts under her sole control.

After tax and the required deductions, it was still more money than she had ever imagined owning.

She did not quit her job.

She did not buy a sports car.

She paid off her remaining student loan.

Put money aside for her parents’ retirement.

Created an emergency fund.

And met with a financial professional to structure the rest conservatively.

Then she continued watching Chu Phong.

She did not need long.

Two weeks later, she discovered he had applied for a personal loan.

Purpose:

Wedding expenses.

Actual purpose?

He had already paid a deposit on the car.

When Tu Niem confronted him, he laughed nervously.

“It’s only a deposit.”

“You signed for a car we agreed not to buy.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You borrowed money in preparation for our marriage without telling me.”

“It’ll be our debt anyway.”

Our debt.

But when there was a prize, suddenly ownership had been very precise.

Tu Niem went silent.

Chu Phong sensed something was wrong.

“Niem Niem?”

She removed the engagement ring.

Placed it on the table.

His face changed.

“What are you doing?”

“Canceling the wedding.”

He laughed.

Then realized she was serious.

“Over a car?”

“No.”

“Over your brother’s apartment?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

Tu Niem looked at him.

“Because I finally understood how you think.”

He became angry.

“You think you’re perfect because you save every cent?”

“No.”

“I think marriage with you would mean spending my whole life earning money while you explain why everyone else deserves to use it.”

He stared at her.

“You’ll regret this.”

Maybe he believed that.

Until three months later.

A mutual friend accidentally mentioned it.

The ten-million-yuan lottery winner from their supermarket had already claimed the prize.

The date matched.

The ticket series matched.

Chu Phong called Tu Niem immediately.

She answered.

His voice was trembling.

“That ticket.”

“What ticket?”

“The lottery ticket!”

“What about it?”

He nearly shouted:

“You won!”

Tu Niem said nothing.

“You knew that day!”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Then his breathing became ragged.

“You lied to me.”

“I did.”

“Ten million, Tu Niem!”

“Yes.”

“And you hid it from me?”

“Yes.”

“How could you do that to someone you were going to marry?”

She almost laughed.

“Do what?”

“Protect money that legally belonged to me?”

His voice rose.

“If we had married, it would have been ours!”

“No.”

She answered calmly.

“It would have been something you considered yours.”

That stopped him.

Then she asked:

“Do you remember the ticket you dug out of the trash?”

Silence.

“You told me you found it on the floor.”

No answer.

“You lied because you thought I had accidentally thrown away money.”

“You kept twelve hundred and gave me eight hundred from a ticket bought with my money.”

“Niem—”

“And before you knew about the ten million, you were already volunteering my savings for your brother’s apartment and taking loans behind my back.”

She paused.

“The lottery didn’t destroy our relationship.”

“It only gave me enough light to see it clearly.”

Chu Phong’s tone changed instantly.

“Niem Niem, we can fix this.”

“No.”

“I was immature.”

“Probably.”

“I’ll return the car.”

“Good.”

“I’ll tell Mom no apartment.”

“Also good.”

“Then we can still get married.”

Tu Niem smiled.

“You’re changing because now you know I have ten million.”

He went silent.

That was the end.

A year later, Tu Niem bought an apartment.

Not enormous.

Not luxurious.

Paid in full.

She continued working because she liked knowing her life did not depend on the balance in one account.

She traveled with her parents.

Invested carefully.

And never again felt guilty for having a budget.

Someone once asked whether she felt bad for testing Chu Phong.

Tu Niem thought about it.

“I didn’t set a trap.”

“I simply didn’t tell him what was in my pocket.”

Everything else—

digging through the garbage,

lying about the ticket,

planning to spend her savings,

borrowing money without telling her—

had been his choice.

That day in the supermarket, Tu Niem thought the greatest luck of her life was scratching a ticket worth ten million yuan.

Later, she understood that she had won something more valuable.

She had discovered the truth before signing a marriage certificate.

The money changed her bank balance.

But the crumpled losing ticket in the trash changed her future.

Because when Chu Phong believed there might be money inside something she had thrown away—

he immediately went back for it.

And when Tu Niem finally realized their relationship had become something she needed to throw away—

she never did.