When Adaeze left her dad's store to go outside, the sun had long been up. The street was alive with the shouts of vendors, the noise of cars, the laughter of children and dust everywhere. A piece of paper, which was wrinkled and was dancing with the wind, lay at her feet.
She stooped and took the paper from the ground. It was a lottery ticket. The winning numbers of the previous day were on it. She was about to throw it away but she stopped. There was something about it that seemed to belong to her.
The father was bent over the counter, employing the calculator to add up what he had written in his old ledger. There were almost no goods on the shelves. Business was not going well. Rent was overdue. The landlord had been yelling at them. Adaeze remembered her parents' fight the previous night. Her mother had unmistakably said, “Time is running out for us.”
She put the ticket into her pocket. It was like having a secret.
In her little room that night, she spread it out once more. The ticket was a bit dirty but the numbers were visible. She imagined the kiosk in the middle of the town, where people checked their tickets. But then a thought stopped her. It was not her thought. Someone had bought it for her. Was it incorrect to look at it at all?
She remembered her mother counting coins for garri that morning. She remembered the electricity being cut off last week. Her heart ached. What if getting this ticket to sort out everything? But what if the owner was somewhere out there looking for it, worried?
She hid it under her pillow and had hardly any sleep.
She was walking by the kiosk the following day. There was a banner flapping in the air: “Yesterday’s Jackpot Won!” A small crowd was standing by. The kiosk owner smiling broadly waved a piece of paper, “Somebody here has just become a millionaire!”
Adaeze’s trembling hands could barely contain her excitement as she drew the ticket out. She went through the numbers and found that each and every one of them matched. She was so shocked that she nearly let the paper slip from her hands.
Her brain was racing over images: her father's contented grin, her mother resuming her sewing business, her brothers continuing their studies. It was like their entire existence would turn around.
She then pictured another person an elderly woman or a father who might be going through a hard time tearing up because their opportunity was gone.
Her friend Tunde popped up next to her. “Ada, you seem to have had a nightmare.”
She revealed the ticket to him. “It’s the one that wins.”
He was astonished.
“This is heaven-sent! Get it before anyone else.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not for me. I came across it.”
Tunde lowered his voice. “Think about your family. This could save you all.”
The paper seemed so heavy like it was holding her whole world. She imagined herself going into the lottery office, giving a camera-friendly grin. She also imagined a sorrowful stranger kneeling and praying for a miracle.
Once more, the power went out in the evening. Her dad was not very happy and he cursed quietly. Her mum, slightly surprised, was trying to control her anxiety. Adaeze was so impatient that she felt like shouting but she restrained herself. Her only aim was to get the award.
She didn’t sleep.
She was outside at dawn, with the ticket in her hand. The calm road was shining with gold. She made her way to the booth. Musa, the proprietor, was opening the door with his key.
"Uncle Musa," she whispered.
He squinted at her. "Adaeze! What are you doing here at such an ungodly hour?"
Taking the ticket to him, she said, "I got this ticket yesterday. It's the one that wins."
He froze, then took it gently. “Where?”
“Near our shop.”
For a moment, Musa said nothing. Then he nodded. “You did the right thing. Not many would.”
Adaeze walked home, her steps heavy but her heart lighter.
Later that day, word spread. A taxi driver had come forward. He had lost the ticket and thought his life was over. Now, he could save his family. People praised the mystery finder.
Nothing changed for Adaeze’s family in a day. The shop was still not stocked with goods. Their mail continued to come. However, her inner self was different. Her father noticed.
“You seem lighter,” he said. She smiled weakly.
“Maybe because I know that we are still wealthy in the things that count.”
The following day a strange woman came to the shop. She took more than the usual and after that gave extra money to Adaeze’s father without telling him.
“One person told me that your family is the most honest,” she said.
“The world needs fewer dishonest people but more like you.”
It was not the biggest jackpot in the world, but it was enough to stock a whole shelf. Adaeze was convinced that this was just the start. She visualized that very moment accompanying the kerosene lamp with its soft light. A ticket, not a missed fortune, but the option she had taken. She hugged her doubt with the statement she barely could hear.