The announcement crackled through the town square speakers, distorted but unmistakable: "The final departure is in 72 hours. Lottery winners must report to the launch site immediately. No exceptions."

Mara gripped her son Leo’s hand tighter, feeling his small fingers trembling in hers. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the fear was a beast clawing at her chest. They hadn’t won the lottery. She’d checked the numbers three times.

The line to the town’s lottery office stretched around the block, desperate faces all seeking miracles. Mara didn’t bother joining it. There were no miracles left. Only moves to make.

She slipped into an alley, pulling out the card she’d stolen from her employer two weeks ago: an access badge to the facility where lottery entries were processed. She hadn’t planned on using it—she told herself she’d find another way—but time was out, and so were her choices.

"Stay here," she whispered to Leo, hiding him behind a stack of crates. "Don’t move, no matter what. Understand?"

His wide eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of trust that nearly broke her resolve. He nodded.

Mara slipped through the facility’s side door, the badge granting her entry with a soft beep. The dimly lit corridor smelled of stale air and desperation. She found the server room quickly, heart pounding as she connected a small device to one of the terminals.

The screen lit up, displaying rows of names and lottery numbers. She searched for hers, fingers shaking, then replaced it with a winning number she’d memorized from the public announcement. Her name. Leo’s name. Her husband’s name, even though she knew deep down he wouldn’t have approved.

The terminal beeped. Change accepted.

"You don’t belong here."

Mara spun around, heart leaping into her throat. A guard stood in the doorway, hand hovering near his holstered weapon.

"I just… I—"

He took a step closer, his gaze landing on the terminal. Realization dawned.

"You’re trying to change the lottery results," he said, almost amused. "You think you’re the first?"

"Please," Mara said, her voice cracking. "I have a son. He’s seven. He doesn’t deserve to die here."

The guard stared at her for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he sighed and looked away. "Get out. Now. Before I change my mind."

Mara didn’t hesitate. She bolted back to the alley, scooping Leo into her arms.

"Did it work, Mama?" he whispered.

She forced a smile. "We’re going, sweetheart. We’re going to make it."

But as they joined the line at the launch site the next day, Mara couldn’t shake the gnawing fear. She’d secured their tickets, but at what cost—and would survival feel any different if it came with guilt as heavy as the Earth she was leaving behind?