I thought I was just playing a game… it saved me instead

I used to think gambling was about strategy—about odds, numbers, and the thrill of a big win. But after three nights spent staring at the screen while my cat Miso blinked beside me, I saw something else.

The neon glow of the digital night market didn’t reward me with money. It rewarded me with silence.

At first, I followed the ‘lucky number’ trends like any other player: betting Rs.10 per round, tracking streaks of ‘2’ or ‘3’, waiting for that one moment when everything aligned. The platform promised fairness—RNG-certified, transparent—but what it didn’t say aloud was this: every spin was a question whispered in the dark.

‘Free bonus?’ No. ‘Flip multiplier?’ Not really.

It was the pause between bets—the breath before pressing ‘spin’ again—that held me.

I wasn’t chasing wins. I was chasing presence.

In a world designed for speed and spectacle, where algorithms screamed in crimson and cobalt light, my cat curled on my lap and watched—not because she wanted to win—but because she needed to know if I’d still be there.

We call it ‘gambling’. They call it ‘entertainment’. But in that quiet space between rounds, where no one speaks but your own thoughts echo back—I found something quieter than luck:

A hand holding mine. A voice saying: thank you for not leaving me alone.

This isn’t a game designed for winners. It’s one made for those who are still learning how to be seen.