The Butterfly Box - extract

Federica unwrapped the paper to discover a roughly carved wooden box. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t even charming. She felt the tears prick the backs of her eyes and her throat constrict with disappointment. Not because she wanted a nicer present, she wasn’t materialistic or spoilt, but because Hal’s present had been so much more beautiful than hers. She understood his presents as a reflection of his love. He couldn’t love her very much if he hadn’t even bothered to find her a pretty gift.

“Thank you, Papa,” she choked, swallowing back her tears in shame. “It’s very nice.” But she didn’t have the strength to rebel against her emotions. The excitement had been too much, now the disappointment threw her into a sudden low and the tears welled and spilled out over her hot cheeks.

“Fede, mi amor,” he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wet face.

“It’s nice,” she said, trying to sound grateful and not wishing to offend him.

“Open it,” he whispered into her ear. She hesitated. “Go on, amorcita, open it.” She opened it with a shaking hand. The little box might have been plain on the outside, ugly even, but inside it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and what’s more, it played the strangest, most alluring tune she had ever heard.

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