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At my twentieth birthday party, my childhood sweetheart, Archie Wilcox, smiled and said he had a surprise for me. Then, a massive cake was smashed directly into my face. Shards of glass mixed in the cream stabbed into my left eye. The doctor said I would suffer permanent blindness, and there was no way to recover. The perpetrator, Caitlin Evans, that schoolmate who was always clinging to Archie, pitifully explained, "I'm sorry, Leila. I just wanted to play a joke on you. I didn't know the cake tray would break." Archie stepped in front of her to shield her. "Leila, Caitlin didn't mean it. Don't blame her." Touching the bandages wrapped around my left eye, I suddenly laughed. It turned out that my eye, my life, could all be treated as a joke. "Archie," I said calmly, "we're over." He froze. "What did you say? Just because of an accident?" I didn't answer, just packed my things and moved out of the apartment we shared. Archie ran after me, his voice filled with disbelief. "Leila, are you serious?" "Yes," I said. From then on, I lost one eye, and one person disappeared from my world.