CHAPTER ONE-Another Day, Another Donation.

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 straight.

He put his hand around my hand and held it. “You must be a strong one on our side, Elara,” he said. "You always are. Don't let this get to you."

I nodded, but the pains in my entire body made me remember I was not very strong any more. I would have argued to tell him that being a strong person did not mean that I did not feel anything, that my arms ached and my legs were trembling, my head was aching and my veins were screaming with every drop of my blood. But I didn't. I only nodded.

Mira Lane,his female  best friend, opened the door and walked in carrying a tray of food. She smiled at me, with her blonde hair falling down her shoulders perfectly. "Good morning, Damien, Elara. I brought breakfast."

I scowled instantly, as I  saw what was in the tray. Eggs, milk, some sort of cheese, I was allergic to all that. I stood still, paralysed. "I... I can't eat that," I said quietly.

Mira threw back her head, with a sadistic little smirk on her lips. "Oh? It is a shame,” she said, in a teasing tone. “I  made this for Damien not you. Can not have the blood bank fainting upon me, I’ll let you go home and cook for yourself.”

I felt my stomach twist. The words were more cutting than she would have liked to be.

“Hm.” I said.

Mira just laughed a little and placed the tray on the table. “ I am glad you understand,” she said and turned to Damien. “Well, how is our favorite patient going?”

Damien smiled a little but made a feeble shrug. "Better, I guess. Thanks for asking, Mira."

A soft sigh escaped me and the nurse entered to begin the transfusion. I detested this part each time, the needling, the gradual drawing out of life through my veins, the weakness that followed it. But I clenched my teeth and attempted to calm down.

The needle came in, and I jerked a little at the pain. Damien touched me again, and rubbed my hand. "It's okay," he said. "I'm fine. There is no need to worry about me.

I would argue, I would have said that I cared, but not about him, but about myself. But I stayed quiet.

Minutes went by, and I shut my eyes awhile, trying  to forget the agonizing sensation in my arms.

Finally, the nurse spoke. "That's enough for today, Elara. You've given more than enough. You should get some rest.”

 I struggled to stand on my knees. “I am all right,” I said, but hardly above a whisper.

“No, no,” the nurse said, and she took my elbow to support me. "You need to rest. We will take you to your ward and  allow you to lie down. You look exhausted.”

"I... I would like to stay,” I said obstinately. "I want to feed Damien. I want to watch him sleep. I don't want to leave him alone."

The hand of Damien gripped mine and his voice was stern yet gentle. "Elara, please. Your health is important. You have done enough of me to-day. I want you to go rest. I'll be fine. You must take care of yourself.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. Mira spoke , her voice getting on each of my nerves.  "Go on, Elara. I'll take care of him for you. Just rest. He'll be fine while you're gone."

Something in my chest, a kind of twinge of discomfort, was triggered by her words, but I was too exhausted to protest. I was led to the ward by the nurses slowly and shakily. I struggled on like lead with each step, but at last, I got to the bed and sunk in.

Several hours later, I awoke to the gentle thumping of a nurse on my shoulder. "Elara," she said gently. The doctor wishes to have a word with you.

I arose and rubbed my eyes. "Okay," I murmured.

The doctor's office was quiet. “Your husband is worse off, Elara... your husband, he said slowly. Even the blood transfusion are no longer sufficient.”

I froze. "What... what's wrong?" My voice shook.

He pointed at me to go behind him. "Come with me. You need to see this yourself."

I trailed him to the ward of Damien, and my heart beat in my chest. And there he was--in bed, which was paler than when I had left him. His chest swelled and fell shallow, his lips parted a little. I also saw something, the first time I had seen it, the slightest traces of lipstick on his mouth. My stomach twisted. I had not kissed him this morning. Who had?

The voice of the doctor broke in on me. His illness had got worse in a few hours since you were here. We need a bone marrow donor. The transfusions will not be sufficient now.

I nodded slowly, but my mind was whirling.

Who kissed him?