An inspirational love story

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Meera is a beautiful, ambitious and struggling architect. Aryan is handsome and successful. When they met, cupid struck. Their love grew deep and endless. However, life takes its own twists and turns and soon darkness enveloped Meera’s life.

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Simultaneously, a venomous treachery was extending its fangs over the couple’s life.

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Will their love last forever or get faded with the winds of destiny?

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Are all love stories destined to have a rosy ending or love can sometimes demean you, insult you, abuse you, eventually directing towards the right path and letting you discover your true passion in life?

The book illustrates how the female protagonist in the story after losing everything, which she had once valued the most, takes control of her life and eventually discovers her true passion in life.

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This is a motivating story especially for people with disabilities.

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CLICK HERE TO CONTACT US FOR A REVIEW COPY OF IT’S NOT THE END YET…

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About the Author

Dr. Richa Saxena was born and raised in New Delhi, India. After successfully completing her graduation in medicine from the prestigious Maulana Azad Medical College, New Delhi, she pursued her masters in Gynecology from Delhi University, and did a clinical research project at the renowned alma mater All India Institute of Medical Sciences, New Delhi. To further enhance her knowledge in the field of obstetrics and gynecology, she went to the UK to pursue MRCOG (Member of Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists).

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Her interests are multifarious and she is an artistic and creative person. In contrast to her shy personality from the outside, from within she is an articulate, vivacious, multifaceted and light-hearted person. Her great passion for writing has produced 8 medical books and 3 biographies, plus her two fictional novels; Joy of Living and It's Not the End Yet...

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Richa also holds the position of “Chief Editor” in one of the pioneer publishers of medical books in India.

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She has written several articles pertaining to the health care for the general public as well as health care professionals. One of her significant contributions to social welfare is “Nine Things for Nine Months of Pregnancy”, a publication in collaboration with Glaxo Smith Kline Pharmaceuticals Limited, published by M/s Jaypee Brothers Medical Publishers, issued in public interest and social awareness. This book has been translated and printed in seven different regional languages besides Hindi and English. It was distributed free of cost to pregnant women all over India.

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Richa is an ardent reader, an aquarist, loves fishkeeping, painter, blogger, counselor and most of all loves to spend time with her family. Her priceless possessions are her two naughty and adorable nephews “Akshar” (meaning: letter) and “Shabd” (meaning: word); she rightly says “Akshar and Shabd give meaning to my writing”.

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Connect with the Author

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Website

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Facebook

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Twitter

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Instagram

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Excerpt

It was completely dark and there was a sound so shrill that it appeared to directly pierce through the darkness into her eardrums.  Encased in a metallic tunnel, Meera felt as if she was being enveloped by claws of darkness all around and she felt herself slowly moving onto an unknown path.  There was just blackness everywhere.  Any other color had ceased to exist.  It was followed by a piercing, high-pitched noise.

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She felt as if she was lying in a coffin, unable to move.  Meera closed her eyes and started thinking.  Though she could not think clearly, she vaguely remembered being brought to a tube-like structure in a wheelchair.  She remembered Aryan holding her hand and accompanying her along with the other medical staff.  Dr. Dixit had already warned Meera about the darkness and the shrill, clanging sounds she may hear inside the MRI machine.

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“Those sounds are the result of the giant magnets inside the MRI machine,” Meera recalled Dr. Dixit telling her.  He had comforted her by saying that she would be lying inside the tube for approximately half and hour to forty-five minutes.

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And now there was just dark gripping blackness.  As the time moved on at a turtle-like pace, the blackness started merging into greyness and her eyes gradually started getting accustomed to the surroundings.

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After some time, the envelope of greyness appeared to be shredded down as the rays of light started penetrating inside.  When Meera saw some light, she realized that she was no longer in that tube; she was in a room.  Though it was not a bright sunny day, some light had managed to sneak inside the room through the large windown in the center in front of her bed.  Now she realized she was back in the hospital ward.  Aryan was sitting on the chair beside her bed.  “I was in that tunnel.  What happened?  What am I doing here?” she asked Aryan.

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“Sweetheart, you fell asleep during the MRI examination.  It is over now,” Aryan answered soothingly, trying to comfort her.

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“What is the result?” Meera asked with a tinge of panic.

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“You don’t have to worry about it, you will be fine soon,” said Aryan, unsuccessfully trying to hide the anxiousness in his voice.

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“What is wrong with me?” Meera asked Aryan, as she held his hand and feeling the softness of his palms.  She tried to squeeze it hard.  However, she was unable to do it.  Only then she noticed a tube attached to her hand.

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“Look, I know something is seriously wrong.  Otherwise, why will this tube be attached to my hand?” asked Meera firmly.

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“This tube is for injecting the medicines directly inside your veins,” Aryan replied patiently.

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“Medicines through veins!  I must be terribly sick, Aryan,” conjectured Meera with sadness in her voice.

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“The doctor had said that the weakness in your arms and hand is the result of some infection of the nerve cells,” said Aryan while lovingly patting her hand.  “They are giving you steroids to fight that infection.  You will be fine after the infection has been removed.  Don’t worry, I am with you,” Aryan added while looking tenderly at Meera with a weak smile.  He realized that she was not listening to him and was already sleeping.  He observed her face.  There was such peace and tranquillity emanating from her face that Aryan felt relieved for not disclosing the complete truth to her.

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He released his hand from hers and sat on the chair looking out of the window with a faraway expression in his eyes.  He could not believe that this was happening to Meera, his sweetheart, the love of his life, who was only 22 years old.  They had just been married for about 3 months and their life already had been engulfed by a catastrophe.

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