My Butterfly Has Human Eyes

The wind from the harbor blew in from the deep sea, carrying a hint of salt and the damp, rusty scent of iron. When the cold wind brushed across Aileen’s cheek, it lingered briefly at her brow and eyes, an unnoticed pause, as if it were the touch of a human partner, yet cautious, an awkward imitation that failed. The morning light was just right, with the sky painted in soft hues of gray-blue and orange-red, as the rooftops of the town lay under a sleeping cloud, unmoving, resting by the sea. There weren’t many people at the dock to see them off. To most, it was just another typical fishing day. A few wives from the town, with children in tow, chatted leisurely in scattered groups. Two young boys were already crying and tugging at their mothers, each wanting the pretty starfish on the beach. The cold still clung to the morning, and the scene was repetitive, like a ritual repeated countless times. Aileen stood in line, holding her three-year-old daughter, Lilith. The child leaned against her shoulder, groggily sleeping, her small hand clutching the corner of Aileen’s scarf. “Wake up, little one. Time to say goodbye to Daddy,” Aileen whispered, brushing aside a damp curl of hair from Lilith’s forehead. Lilith rubbed her eyes, and with a little help from her mother, wobbled towards the man standing not far away. Rhys bent down with practiced ease, smiling as he opened his arms to catch the little one. Even with the heavy sailbag in one hand, he lifted her effortlessly, kissed her forehead, and turned to look at Aileen with a gentle expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon,” he said, his smile revealing a few fine lines at the corners of his eyes, etched by the sun and the sea. His eyes were the color of the sea on a clear day, bright, lively, and tender. Aileen nodded silently, not speaking. She stepped forward, took Lilith back into her arms, and Rhys wrapped his arms around her waist. His fingers gently brushed over the furrow between her brows, the callouses from years of hard work in the fields lightly scraping her skin, making her want to laugh. “Why the rush with the eyebrows today? Look, you missed a spot here,” Rhys teased, trying to lighten her mood. “Guess what I’ve got in my pocket.” But Aileen only looked towards the ship docked in the harbor, her worry deepening. It was the Morning Star, one of the few deep-sea vessels in the town. Its black hull floated heavy in the water, eager to catch a good haul and bring in a fortune. Those boarding the ship, to varying degrees, shared the same greed. Aileen knew Rhys had taken the risk to raise money for renovating their small cottage, though she didn’t know that he also planned to buy her pearls from the deep sea and a dress for Lilith, the one she had been eyeing for a while. Rhys always felt guilty for not being able to give his wife and daughter the best of things. In a week, it would be both of their birthdays. Today, they were heading to the edge of the storm belt to the east, a sea area said to be avoided by sailors. “Look, Mommy, don’t I look better now?” Rhys carefully slipped Aileen’s eyebrow pencil into his inner coat pocket, the canvas worn at the heart, “I’ll keep it safe for you. I’ll return it when I come back.” Lilith laughed with joy as Rhys pinched her mother’s face, making it contort into all sorts of funny expressions. Not able to tease her wife any longer, Rhys grew serious. “You never used to worry about this,” his tone softened, hoping to reassure his beloved wife. “Why are you suddenly… so afraid? I’ll only be at sea for two days, I’ll be back soon.” Erin hesitated. She wanted to mention the dream she had last night — the rolling waves, the blurry and terrifying figure, that face without eyes. But in the end, she remained silent. “Maybe it’s just the strange weather lately,” she said softly, the wind from behind picking up, lifting her soft chestnut hair. Her gaze lingered on the distant clouds, which had thickened unnaturally, darkening with an ominous hue, as though waiting for a storm that didn’t belong to this world. “Aileen.” Rhys extended his hand and kissed her hair, speaking softly, “You know I grew up on the sea. I know better than anyone when the sea gets angry. If it really doesn’t like something, we won’t get close.” Aileen finally smiled, faintly, almost imperceptible. But her eyes remained tense. She massaged her temple, watching her husband step onto the deck, until he became a mere shadow on the Morning Star. Just as Rhys was about to disappear around the corner of the ship’s cabin, he suddenly ran back and smiled at Aileen and Lilith, shouting, “Don’t worry, okay? I love you both.” “Daddy will bring back lots of fish!” Lilith happily responded, her voice ringing with excitement. Aileen kissed Lilith’s forehead and murmured, “Yes… lots and lots of fish.” The dock gradually emptied, with only the wind continuing to blow. The sea’s surface began to catch the morning light. At that moment, she heard two elderly voices murmuring softly behind her. It wasn’t until the Morning Star vanished over the horizon, and the dark clouds finally pressed down, that Aileen reluctantly pulled Lilith away from the dock and headed home. The wind suddenly shifted direction, rustling the old fishing nets piled by the harbor. She glanced back but saw only the empty corner of the street. It was as if someone had peeked, leaving nothing behind. Back home, a few rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds, landing on the windowsill, casting the shadow of the sheer curtains into the kitchen. Aileen lowered Lilith and stood at the door for a moment, hesitating before reaching out to push it open. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to the absence of Rhys in the house — those small sounds he left in their daily life had suddenly stopped, like a house that was always inhabited, now empty. The old wooden door creaked softly, like the sigh of someone leaving. The house had hardly changed. The pots and dishes were neatly arranged, and there was an empty chair at the table, left unpushed. She knew that was where Rhys had sat earlier, forgetting to clear it up after breakfast. Lilith ran over, climbed onto the chair, her feet dangling, tapping lightly against the table legs with a soft “thump.” “Are you hungry?” Aileen asked. “I’m not hungry,” the little girl replied, resting her head on the table. “I just want to hear the sound.” “What sound?” “Just… this.” She rocked the chair again, “It sounds like the tower by the sea, the thudding sound.” Aileen didn’t reply, only brushed her hand over Lilith’s soft cheek. The house was so quiet that the wind, seeping through the cracks, seemed to make a sound, like something gently tapping at the window. Aileen stood up, walked over, and closed the window. The sunlight fell across her hand, cold. Not the warmth that made you drowsy, but a faint chill, with a hint of fishiness. She suddenly realized that the wind hadn’t stopped since last night. She turned around. Lilith was still leaning over the table, drawing circles, her finger tracing invisible lines on the wood. “What are you drawing?” “The mark on the door.” She didn’t lift her head. “I think it looks like bird wings.” “This is a butterfly, sweetheart.” Aileen walked over to the door and looked. There, in the corner of the doorframe, was an old symbol carved with a knife. The lines had blurred over the years, worn into the wood from years of cleaning. It was from long ago, when Rhys had first come to her place. “Do you believe in this?” she had asked him that year. “There’s too much to believe in at sea,” he had answered. “Wind, waves, direction, and the human heart.” She remembered how he had touched the knife edge after carving the mark, as if speaking with reverence. She had laughed at him back then, but now, for some reason, it brought her comfort. She reached out to touch the mark. The texture was rough, slightly prickly. It was Rhys’s mark. “Is it protecting us?” Lilith asked, leaning over her shoulder. “Maybe.” Aileen answered softly. “I dreamt it glowed last night.” “Glowed?” “Yeah.” Lilith nodded, blinking, “Like the moonlight was drawn out of it, and then… over by the window, there was a cat. It was watching us.” “A cat?” “Mm! But its eyes were black, not bright.” She thought for a moment, “Like… the dead coral Dad once pulled out of the sea.” Aileen didn’t respond. She just walked over slowly and closed the curtain more tightly. “Don’t be afraid. Mommy will hold you tonight.” Everything seemed normal. But the wind still hadn’t stopped.