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“Charlotte, don't pick at your hair, dear. Good. Now, smile for the camera!” The camera flashed once or maybe twice before the photographer rose up from behind his equipment with a satisfied grin.
“A lovely family, just beautiful,” He exclaimed as he handed a soldier in uniform a few polaroids.
“Thank you,” The man had short, cropped hair the shade of lapis lazuli, deep-blue like the vast pacific waves on a stormless night. He wore camo and tan, nicely made combat boots. The multi-colored service ribbons pinned on his chest and the numeral scars laced on his skin made it evident that he was a veteran.
Next to him stood a woman and a child, undoubtedly his wife and daughter.
“Daddy, I wanna see!” The daughter was still young, anywhere around the age of six or eight. She was a brunette, just like her mother, and wore her hair in neat braids.
“Later, sweetheart,” The mother hushed, tucking a stray strand of her daughter's hair behind her ears as she patted her head lovingly.
Even after all those years, when she smiled, it felt like the first dawn of spring, warming the earth after the long months of winter. Like a sprinkle of rain after a drought, and like someone had set off fireworks inside the husband's heart. Every time her smile was in his line of sight, he fell in love with her all over again.
“M'kay,” The daughter agreed, hopping down from her seat to take her father's hand. “Can we have cake, please?” She peered up expectantly at him, tugging at his sleeves. She had her father's eyes, black as ink and gleaming under the studio's bright lights. She knew he couldn't say no to her when she gave him that look.
The husband quickly locked eyes with his wife, silently asking for her approval. She sighed in defeat, in a playful way, and gave him a slight nod.
“It is Christmas eve, I don't see why not,” The daughter squealed at her father's answer, jumping up and down for joy like she'd just won the lottery.
“I heard the bakery down the street has amazing desserts,” The mother joined in, taking her husband's side. “How about we take a look?” She gave her husband a gentle squeeze on the hand as they both gazed at their child.
“Really? Now?” The daughter was on the verge of exploding due to this absolute bliss.
“As soon as your father pays the photographer,” She reminded her husband with a small chuckle, to which the husband promptly took out his wallet to hand the other man his payment. It was embarrassing to have forgotten such a simple thing, but he couldn't help it that when he was with the love of his life and his one and only daughter, the rest of the world just melted away.
“Merry Christmas, and happy holidays!” The photographer called out before he shut the doors behind the family.
The winter wind was fierce, digging at his skin like thin, delicate knives and sending a shiver down his spine. Despite being wrapped in several layers of clothing, the cold still managed to penetrate deep into his bones. He could only imagine how cold it was for his young daughter.
As expected, she was shaking from head to toe as if a vicious woodpecker was intent on making her its new house. The father paused at the crossroads.
“You want up, Shar?” It was hard to tell if Charlotte nodded “yes”, as she was practically vibrating like an electric drill at that point, but the father guessed she did from the desperate look in her eyes.
With as much ease as picking up a stuffed animal, the father lifted his daughter from the ground to hug her close. He could see her expression soften and her body shake significantly less as he shared his warmth. His wife giggled at the sight of her daughter clinging to her husband similar to how a newborn koala would to its mother.
When the traffic lights flickered back to green, the family made their way across and continued their stroll. Thankfully, it was cut short, as the distance between the photography studio and the famed bakery was shorter than expected.
Even from the outside, the heavenly scent of freshly baked goods was enough to drive any passersby to enter. With his free hand, the father pushed the glass-paned doors of the bakery open. The doors opened with a musical jingle of bells. If the outside seemed great, the insides far surpassed that.
Jaunty, festive music blasted from invisible speakers, not too noisy but loud enough for the whole store to feel like a part of the holiday season. The buzzing of chatter from other customers mixed with the constant sweetness in the air contributed to the cheery atmosphere as well.
“Welcome to Builder Brother's Bakery!” An employee chirped merrily when they saw the family enter, before they swiftly led another family to the counter to take care of their purchases.
“I think,” The mother started, as she set her daughter down from her husband's arms. “You should pick out a cake for tonight, Shar. How does that sound?” Charlotte's eyes twinkled at the very thought.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!!” She nearly trampled over another kid in excitement while running off to the cake section, her mother barely being able to follow up.
Following the events of spending countless minutes staring at dozens of cakes in varying sizes and flavors, bothering any and all employees that came by with a million questions about each product, and making her parents run circles around the shop just trying to keep track of her, Charlotte finally decided on a single cake.
It was a whipped cream vanilla, elegantly decorated with sparkling white frosting and edible white-chocolate flowers. To the child, it was the most beautiful cake she had ever laid her eyes on. It was perfect.
“That'll be 75 Robux, please,” The employee managing the counter stated after scanning the item.
The journey home was brief, which the family was extremely thankful for, as the husband managed to catch a cab amidst the packed crowd. It seemed that everyone was out and about, buying gifts for loved ones and enjoying the last remaining days of the year, flooding the streets with the holiday mood.
The rest of the afternoon went by in a blink of an eye. They had a hearty dinner, enjoyed the cake for dessert, and watched a Christmas movie.
“That cake was more expensive than last time,” The wife remarked, after she was done putting her daughter, who had fallen asleep in the middle of the movie, no doubt tired from the busy day, to bed.
“I noticed,” The husband replied, the sunny look on his face from earlier replaced with something dark and grim.
A minute of hesitation lingered between the couple before the wife spoke again.
“Did you get a letter from the army?" It was in the form of a question, but it didn't sound anything like it. Because she already knew the answer. It was an unspoken plea, an urge, to give the husband a chance to confirm the truth by his own words.
“A few days ago,” He admitted, unable to meet his wife's eyes. “They want me in the front lines,” He had prayed and hoped that this moment would never come. He'd hoped that if he could pretend like there was nothing out of the ordinary, he could keep ignoring the heavy weight on his shoulder. He could let go of the guilt clawing at his stomach. And to think that the one thing responsible for all of it is a single piece of paper. The truth was bare and vulnerable for the roaring winter wind to rip and tear through.
“I can't go,” The husband declared. For the first time in a while, his voice quavered midway. The holiday lights made his eyes glisten, as thin lines of tears formed in its corners. He couldn't recall the last time he'd broken down in front of someone like this, let alone feel as hopeless as he was now. He wasn't one to shed a tear or show signs of weakness often. His job demanded he always stay strong.
“You have to,” She whispered, after letting out a shaky breath, as if speaking any louder would let the whole world know. She moved to sit beside him, cradling his scarred face with her smooth hands. Her eyes were sparkling with sadness as well.
“I won't return,” He sobbed, unable to keep the stinging pain inside any longer. “I- I won't be there on Charlotte's next birthday, I won't be there to comfort her when she gets hurt. I won't be there to hold her hand when she's walking down the aisle,” He let out a shuddering breath, gasping for air, as he buried his face into his wife's touch. “She'll never forgive me, and I'll never be able to forgive myself,”
He knew he couldn't disobey direct orders. Yet every part of his being screamed at him to commit that act of treason. He couldn't leave his family to fend for themselves. What good was saying lives if he couldn't save the ones he cared the most?
His wife didn't speak a word, calmly soothing her lover as droplets of her sorrow fell down her cheeks.
She couldn't tell him that there was still a chance he could live to return home. It was true, but it was a cruel hope that would drive a man insane in pursuit. She couldn't bear the thought of further burdening her husband for a molecular possibility.
Their fate had already been sealed, from the moment that letter with his name had been placed on their front porch. The only thing they could do was pray to whatever god that foresaw this world that he may survive.
Daybreak felt to have come quick.
“Daddy, do you have to go?” Charlotte whined, obviously dissatisfied at the reality that her father would be gone for work, let alone on Christmas day.
The soldier patted his daughter's head instead of giving her a straightforward answer.
“I'll be back before you know it, Shar,” It pained him to acknowledge that his last words to his beloved daughter may be a string of carefully forged lies.
“Goodbye, Daddy,”
He gave his daughter one last smile before heading out the door. It was one last goodbye he would carry to his grave.