God asked the butterfly with a dark spot by her left eye whether she would regret it.

“No, never,” the butterfly said with a voice of peace, sweetness, and strength.

“Tomorrow, you can be a young, vigorous, and beauteous girl again,” said the God while turning his woeful mood into a bit delightful, as a smile appeared on his face as usual.

“Please let me remain as a butterfly during the rest of my life.”

There was once a young couple in love. Happiness was spread along with wherever they went, whether it was rainy days, months of low income, or sludgy paths in life. The girl enjoyed listening to the boy’s answer, “whereby this spot, I can find you even if we are far apart”, to the daily question about whether he minded the dark spot near her left eye. The boy found it cute to watch the girl cooking without salt, accidentally spilling milk on the table while answering the phone, or realizing she forgot her keys before leaving the house.

However, black clouds cloaked their blue, clear, and collective sky.

One day, the boy was seriously hurt by a car accident, blood flowing far away to reach the girl, surrounding her and telling her what had happened. For the next few days, the boy just lay in the white hospital’s bed in a coma. The girl sat on the ground, trying her best to call her senseless lover’s name all day long. Later by the evening, she rushed to a local chapel, soliciting God to let the boy recover from the injury, again and again. Although she pained away, tears exhausting like a pool of stagnant water, she kept crying while kneeling to pray for her love, instead of hesitating to accept the truth, giving up, and going away.

A week later, anything remained the same.

God, inspired by the girl's perseverance and infatuated by her strong will, decided to make an exception.

“If you agree to be a butterfly for two years, the boy will recover soon.”

“Of course, yes.” The girl said excitedly.

It was dawn. The girl changed into a butterfly as she promised, and everything was different from last night, except the spot under her left eye. She left the God and flew into the window of the boy’s ward in a hurry. Like what God assured, he had been awake, and to her surprise, he was sitting in the bed, conversing with a doctor while pointing at something. Even though she could not understand any single word, she was aware of his thoughts from his pale face––he was looking for something on which all his hopes rested.

It was not until a week that the boy recovered from the hospital, but he did not seem happy. He started asking everyone he encountered on the street where the girl was, but no one could provide the answer or even any clues. He had no time to cease looking for her, and the girl who had been into a butterfly flew around, following and accompanying him. She could not tell him who the butterfly was, nor embrace him warmly, nor encourage him tenderly. She could only endure his blindness in silence.

Here came the end of summer. Some leaves fell through the gentle autumn winds. The butterfly had to leave. So, she flew onto the boy’s shoulders for the last time. She wanted to use her flippant wings to fondle the familiar face and kiss his forehead with her tiny lips, but it had been difficult to let him realize a feeble butterfly’s existence.

The day finally arrived.

The butterfly could not wait to find the boy through the warmer air. However, another woman was standing by that acquainted figure. The moment the butterfly saw her, she nearly fell out of the air. In an instant, she noticed that under the woman’s left eye, a spot was there.