Novels by Princess Mina

Elara’s POVIt had been a long, foggy month. I awoke with a sore head, sore and heavy body. I heard machines beeping around me, blinking and humming on the otherwise silent room. I was slow of mind, and burdened with ache and fatigue. But one idea had pierced the fog: Damien."Damien..." I mumbled, even though my throat felt parched and dry.One of the nurses who were standing near my bed stooped down, her face gentle, yet grave. "He's awake," she said gently. “We will bring you there, but you will have to remain in the wheelchair in the meantime. You are still too weak since the operation.”I nodded, and my shaking legs had to obey. All I wanted even in my weakness was to see him. To make sure he was okay. To make sure he was alive.The wheelchair was rolling along the hospital corridor, turn and turn, step by step, step by step, closer and closer. My heart started to race, the familiar odor of the hospital enveloped me like a blanket of memories, no good just bad. And then I sa

Elara's POVI awoke to the sterile odor of the hospital room and my body was sore in ways I had never imagined. My hands were sore and my chest was tight and my head was a bit wobbly as I attempted to concentrate. I had a nurse sitting next to me checking my vitals."You're awake," she said softly. "The procedure is over, Elara. It was good... but you bled a great deal. You'll need rest."I gulped, and was obliged to sit up. "Damien... how is he?" I asked, my voice fragile.The nurse smiled faintly. "He's fine. The physicians are holding him together. You may see him now; however, you must take it easy.I gave a nod and disregarded the fatigue that was pulling my body. "I want to see him," I said.The nurse wheeled me into a wheelchair and we proceeded down the hall to the ward of Damien. My hands were on my lap and trembling a little, and my head was heavy with fatigue and sorrow. All I had done--all I had sacrificed--was still new, crude.I halted when we arrived at his room. Mira w

Elara’s POV“Elara, are you sure about this? You know that you cannot even donate bone marrow today, having done the abortion. It will take your body a couple of weeks to get back on its feet.” The doctor said.I could sense a tightening in my chest. A few weeks. Weeks Damien may not even possess.But I nodded. "Yes... I know." My voice was unfamiliar as though it was not mine. But it is better to wait a few weeks certain, and without a baby, than to wait uncertainly how long with a baby... and without certainty.”He nodded and his face softened. "I understand. I'll respect your decision."Respect. The term hurt was more than I anticipated. It gave it all too real.“Go back to your ward, rest,” he continued. “I will send a nurse to ready you and start the business in a moment.”I stood up. I could not stand, and yet I walked--not to myself, not to the baby, not to anything, but to Damien. The next step was heavier than the previous one. As I entered my ward, and the door was shut behi

Elara's POVI attempted to get the thought of the lipstick out of my mind, to forget the questions that were churning like a hurricane. I could not, and I had to concentrate on what was really important-Damien. I had to save him. My thoughts could not permit me to think of anything.“Doctor,” I said, in a weak, but resolute voice, “may I be tested to know whether I can be a bone marrow donor or not?”He gazed at me, with a seriousness, though not with surprise. "Yes, Elara. We can run the tests," he said. The reason is, if you are a match, it would save the life of Damien.”I nodded, and swallowed the knot in my throat. "Then let's do it."One of the nurses came out and took me to a small sterile room. She described how it was done, and her voice was calm and professional as she was about to take a blood sample. I nodded once more, in an attempt to control my shaking hands. The needle was inserted and I flinched when the nurse took the blood.As I waited the results, I thought of Dami

Elara's POV.The now familiar scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils soon as I entered the hospital room. My legs were as though they were not mine, but clumsy and feeble with the blood I had been giving them all these years.Two years. Two long years of daily, weekly, monthly, donations, of long needles and syringes, and my own body tired to death. And here I was, again walking to my husband’s side.Damien who had spent the night in the hospital after passing out two nights ago, was awake and sat up in bed. He took a glance at me as I stepped into his ward, his lips smiling a little. "Hey," he said softly.I forced a tired smile back. "Hi," I whispered. There was something odd in my voice, feeble even to myself. I gulped and inquired, "How are you doing today?“I am all right,” said he, and flicked my inquiry aside with a gesture of his hand. "How about you?"I bowed my head down to the floor and said, “well, I am weak.” My hands shook a little as I attempted to get myself straigh