One was a clear, bright blue.
The other was so dark it almost looked black.
The doctors called it heterochromia.
Two different eye colors.
Unusual, but harmless.
“Someone else in the family probably has it,” the discharge nurse had told me. “These things often run in families.”
Then she smiled.
“Who did she get it from?”
I had looked down at Nora.
“Her father.”
I hadn’t said Caleb’s name aloud in months.
Because Caleb disappeared the same night I told him I was pregnant.
No note.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Nothing.
That was what destroyed me most.
There had been no warning.
No argument.
No distance between us.
When I showed him the pregnancy test, Caleb simply stared at it for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
He took both my hands.
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
I started crying.
“You’re not scared?”
“Terrified.”
