The day I was supposed to register my marriage with my fiancé, Joseph Palmer, his plane crashed.

Rescuers claimed it was a total firestorm. No one could've survived.

I didn't buy it, though. I dug through the dirt with my bare hands until I found Joseph, barely hanging on.

But on the very day he woke up, he dumped me, all for a huge insurance payout from the airline.

Ironically, that was also the day I hit the jackpot and won a hundred billion dollars.

*****

The first thing Joseph said when he came to was like he was bossing a servant around, "Lydia Lawson, go get my SIM card reissued."

I did as he said. I rushed to take out four months of my salary from my account to buy him the latest, high-end smartphone.

With his injuries, Joseph could barely lift his arm, yet there he was, anxious and swiping furiously on his new phone. Finally, he let out a sigh of relief, "Good, it's still here."

I just shook my head, not getting what he was fussing about. Then, I went to fetch a wet towel to clean him up,

"Damn, that's hot! Can't you do anything right?" Joseph snapped.

His outburst scared the hell out of me, and I hadn't even touched him with the towel.

Maybe it was tough for Joseph to face how he looked now, stuck in a hospital bed. Ever since he woke up, he had been acting so differently.

I told myself he must be dealing with PTSD and that I needed to be more understanding.

I filled a kettle with cold water and was about to pour it into a basin when Joseph hurled his phone at me. It knocked over the basin and smashed the phone.

Water splashed onto my shirt, making it see-through and slowly revealing my chest.

I crossed my arms over my chest, shielding my dignity and my embarrassment. The guy in the next bed sneaked a peek like it was some sort of show. I hadn't even started crying. But Joseph barked, "Look, this is a public place, and you're flashing your boobs? You're shameless."

Tears instantly started rolling down my face, dripping into the basin on the floor.

Then, wiping my tears, I bent down to pick up the phone. "Joseph, the phone is broken."

He looked at me with a smug grin, like some movie villain. "Broken? Then buy me another one."

I was boiling inside, but seeing all his injuries, I managed to keep calm and said, "I just bought you this one, and it cost me four months' salary. I know you're upset, but please stop breaking things and throwing fits. If we have problems, let's just talk them out, okay?"

I felt a pang of sadness, and tears began to stream down my face. Joseph snapped, "Get out! I'm not dead yet. What the hell are you crying for?"

Covering my mouth, I ran outside, sobbing until my body shook and I could hardly catch my breath.

"Lydia, I need a dump!" Joseph shouted from his bed.

I was still a mess myself, but I had to run back and help Joseph.

He couldn't walk or get out of bed on his own, and he stubbornly refused to use a catheter or wear adult diapers.

Each time, he ended up lying in his own mess, then casually announced, "Lydia, I took a dump."

I wrung out a wet towel. And as I pulled down his trousers, a nasty smell assaulted my nostrils.

"Joseph, how about trying diapers? Cleaning you up like this every time is getting really tough," I suggested.

Joseph gave me a fierce glare. "What kind of man wears those? I'm embarrassed just hearing you suggest it."

I started wiping him down, but the stench twisted my face.

"What's with that look? Are you disgusted by me? If so, just leave. You're only here for the airline payout, aren't you? Stop putting on an act," he said.

I clenched my fists tight. "How much do you think I should get paid to keep wiping your ass willingly here?"

My outburst made Joseph start coughing. Seeing him like that, I instantly regretted blowing up.

"He's sick, and he's been through a near-death experience. It's natural for him to break down," I reminded myself.

I tried to comfort myself. After dealing with the mess, I planned to wash him with slightly warmer water to make him feel better.

So, I grabbed a new basin of water. Just as I picked up the kettle, the doctor called me over.

"Joseph's condition is grave. His internal organs are severely damaged and it's irreversible," the doctor explained.

Holding Joseph's X-rays, which I couldn't understand, I could still clearly see that his organs were not normal.

"Doctor, please do something. He's only 27," I begged.

The doctor gestured helplessly. "At this stage, even a miracle wouldn't be enough.

His only option is an organ transplant, replacing all the damaged ones, but that's..."

The doctor shook his head. Even he didn't believe a transplant would work.

Finding so many matching organs was a long shot, and the cost would be more than most could afford.

"Is there any hope for him?" I wasn't sure why I asked. Maybe I was just looking for a glimmer of hope.

A little reassurance from the doctor, and I'd be convinced Joseph could be saved. I was ready to do whatever it took for him.

"So, you're finally selling the house?" the realtor exclaimed.

The agent grabbed my hand excitedly. My house was downtown, right by a popular tourist spot. It was the only thing my parents had left me.

Over the years, many people had asked if the house was for sale, but I always turned them down. But this time, in my desperation, I sold it for nearly half what it was worth.

"Top dollar for hair! We pay top dollar!" echoed a voice nearby.

Stepping out of the real estate office, a woman on the street who bought hair caught my hand and asked, "Miss, interested in selling your hair?"

I pulled back my waist-length hair, nodded with tears in my eyes, and whispered, "Yes."

She began cutting my hair. Others usually cautioned her not to cut too much, fearing it would look terrible. But I urged, "Cut it as short as possible. I need all the money I can get."

My tears fell with my hair, which I had grown for ten years. And I got $712 for it.

With ten dollars, I bought Joseph's favorite ravioli. Nearby, a lottery store was loudly promoting a recent million-dollar winner.

"Why not try?" I mused to myself.

On a whim, I fished out two dollars and bought a lottery ticket, using my parents' and my own birthdays for the numbers.

Back at the hospital, I saw a shapely woman through the half-open door of Joseph's room. He spread his arms wide. "Come on, give me a hug."

Standing at the door with the ravioli in hand, I saw her leap into Joseph's arms, tearfully saying, "I thought you were lying to me."

Joseph stroked her hair, "How could I lie to a girl who kept her hair long for me?"

I ran my fingers through my crudely cut, embarrassingly ugly hair, feeling like the world's biggest fool.

The woman got up, held Joseph's face in her hands, and asked, "What about her..."

Joseph shrugged dismissively. "She's just like a maid. Why bother about her? I heard the airline's payout is getting sorted. Don't worry, I'll dump her soon."

He leaned in and kissed the woman. They wrapped around each other, lost in a passionate kiss.

And yet, he couldn't even drink water unless I held the glass to his lips.

I stood frozen at the door, gripping the bag of ravioli tightly.

I thought to myself, "Joseph, am I just a part of your little game?

When did I become the punchline? Was it from the start? Did you ever really love me?

Joseph, what about the frail man you were in front of me? Are you too proud to let her see that?"

They kissed, lost in a heated embrace, and I couldn't stand to watch.

So, I ran. Tears clouded my vision as I bumped into several people.

On the rooftop, all of Joseph's promises replayed in my head.

"Really? You're actually going to marry me?" I had asked him once.

Back then, we were cramped in a tiny 75-square-foot apartment, living off instant noodles.

"Of course. When your hair reaches your waist, we'll get married," Joseph had promised.

From that day, I never cut my hair. A decade slipped by just like that.

Now, with no family left, Joseph was all I had clung to, but now...

As I moved a foot closer to the edge, I hesitated, lacking the courage to step off. That was when my phone buzzed with a lottery notification.

"I might as well check if I won. I can't die with questions," I thought.

I stepped back from the edge and checked the numbers against my ticket.

One by one, they matched. I had won. It was 100 billion dollars.

"Die? No way! It's time to really start living," I decided.

I had always heard about the power of money but never really felt it until now.

Wiping the tears from my face, I popped a couple of ravioli in my mouth.

"Yummy!" I exclaimed.

I had always known these raviolis were good, but a serving only had eight, and Joseph would eat them all, leaving me none. So I always let him have them, pretending I wasn't much into them.

"I was such an idiot, totally love-struck!" I scolded myself as I grabbed the leftover ravioli and headed home. On the way, I picked up several more servings of ravioli and indulged in a feast once I got home.

"Lydia, we're not even married. That insurance payout from the airline has nothing to do with you," Joseph said.