Fiction response to Write Anything prompt for Picture This
I knew it was wrong to marry him. But he promised me riches and comfort, and it was easy to believe as I watched him pay $400 for my nine-course meal at the nicest restaurant in town. We would be so happy together, he said, as he added me to his credit card account. We’d never see the bill: it was covered by his employer in total, no questions asked.
In the end, he convinced me. It was partly all the fancy dining he treated me to, with the season of box seats at the opera. But I wanted that four-bedroom home with the manicured garden and gourmet kitchen. I wanted the brand-new BMW every year, complete with a new car smell. I wanted the free travel around the world, and I certainly wanted the comfy leather chair in the library with unlimited books. He had his employer write it all into the marriage contract. But I know now I should have read the fine print.
We found the perfect house. It had a white picket fence in the back yard. During his first two weeks’ leave, we decided on paint colors for the walls. During his next leave, we married and moved in. I was so happy.
It was not very long before our baby was on the way. I was still getting used to all the household servants (I didn’t like telling them what to do and kept apologizing) and I was still building the library. But it was a perfect excuse to add pregnancy self-help books and children’s books to the shelves. I was excited to find that it was a girl. I bought pink bows and dresses for her. I canceled our trip to London and painted the nursery lavender. His employer gave him five years local work so he wouldn’t be away. We would have a wonderful little family.
I realized in the hospital that something wasn’t quite right. He took her away from me after the first night. I asked him to bring her to me, and he started talking to me about protocol. I was a bit exhausted from the labor, so I did enjoy a little rest and pampering. But by the end of the first week, I was ready to see her a lot more than I had seen her!
It was then that he got out the marriage contract and showed me the fine print. I thought the Rumpelstilskin Program was about being a soldier for life in exchange for every comfort you could imagine.
I didn’t realize it meant my daughter’s life, too.
I’m sitting now in my chair. Twenty books are on my side table, but I can’t bring myself to read any of them. Kate is about to bring in my supper, but I don’t have much of an appetite. The house is immaculate — all four-bedrooms — and the flower garden is perfectly groomed. I believe the lilacs are out this week, but I haven’t walked in the garden all spring. I have a new Mercedes in the driveway, but it still has only 78 miles on it.
They will be home from work late tonight. That is why I sit and look at their photograph: my husband and my daughter, Soldiers.

Yes, they have a good relationship. They work together most of the day, Daddy showing her how to do the job she will have to do for the rest of her life.
She thinks it’s a game. I am dreading the day when she finds out it is not.