Inside the private hospital, the mixed-heritage young man sprinted down the stark white corridor with all his might. He paid no heed to the rule against making noise, nor did he notice whom he might have collided with along the way. All that accompanied him was his deep voice murmuring apologies as he pushed himself to reach his destination as quickly as possible.
Bang!
"Khun Mother, where is Khun Yaa!?"
Tul burst into the room, drenched in sweat. His sharp eyes radiated panic as they scanned the area. His stepmother was preoccupied, speaking into the phone, while his father sat in a chair, his hands loosely clasped on his lap, staring intently at the door as if hoping for good news to come through.
"Yes, I understand that Khun Yaa is still in the emergency room, but has she left any instructions...?"
Tul glanced at the family matron, who raised a hand to silence him, her face tight with concern as though genuinely worried about her mother-in-law's condition. Yet the words she spoke told him otherwise—she was on the phone with a lawyer.
The woman whom the elderly lady had chosen didn't care about her mother-in-law's well-being; she was more interested in what she might gain if something happened.
"I need you to handle the matter with Tinn as well. My son must return to Thailand immediately so that Tinn can be here for Khun Mother's final moments..."
"How much longer are you going to fight my mother!!!"
It was Tul's father who finally snapped, shouting in the otherwise silent room. His outburst momentarily stunned the woman on the phone, but she did not stop.
"Yes, please proceed with arranging the flight tickets for Tinn..."
Snatch.
"Rasa! What you should be worrying about right now is how my mother is doing, not what inheritance Tinn will get!" Trai grabbed the phone from her hand and gripped it tightly, shouting at the woman he called his wife.
Rasa turned her face away, clenching both hands together, and replied with a defiant tone.
"I just want Tinn to come back and see Khun Yaa, just in case."
"But your 'just in case' means you want my mother dead and gone!"
"I didn't say that. You're the one saying it."
Trai's expression made it seem as though he was ready to strangle Rasa. "You wretched woman!"
"Enough, Father! Please stop. Khun Mother, please calm down too. This isn't the time to argue about such matters," Tul stepped in between them, separating the two adults. Turning to his stepmother, he spoke in a soothing voice.
"I understand, Khun Mother, that you're concerned something might happen, and Tinn might not make it back in time. I'll talk to him myself and handle the flight arrangements as quickly as possible... Father, please calm down. Khun Mother didn't mean to curse Khun Yaa. Let's all just take a moment."
Rasa said nothing and stormed out of the room, clearly unwilling to say anything more. Tul turned to look at his biological father, who stared back briefly before turning his face away and collapsing into a chair, drained of energy.
Trai buried his face in his hands and muttered softly.
"Call your brother back."
"I'll handle it, Father. How is Khun Yaa?" the young man asked with evident worry, prompting his father, with reddened eyes, to reply.
"The doctor said your grandmother suffered a stroke due to high blood pressure. Even with surgery, the chance of survival is less than 10%." The middle-aged man buried his face in his hands, leaving his son to stand silently. Tul then moved to sit beside him, placing a comforting hand on his father's back.
"Khun Yaa will be fine, Father. You know how strong-willed she is. She wouldn't give up over something like this."
"She's suffered enough already..."
Thud.
The eldest son froze, staring at his father, whose shoulders hunched inward. He realized the words were not about the one undergoing surgery but directed at him.
"Tul, your grandmother has endured so much for years," Trai repeated.
"Yes, I know," Tul responded calmly, though his fists clenched tightly.
He listened as his father asked in a whisper. "Son, I don't know what's in your heart these days. I never have. But I beg you... can you let go of what Khun Yaa did to you, for your own sake?"
"What do you mean by that, Father?" Tul asked, utterly taken aback, his expression showing his surprise as he looked at his father, who slowly raised his face to meet his gaze.
Trai no longer understood what his son was thinking, he had not for a long time. He had no idea what was in Tul's head. Still, this time, he wanted to plead with his son, knowing this might be the final moment of Khun Yaa's life.
His mother had hurt this child since he was young. Even now, confined to a wheelchair, the old woman's eyes still burned with hatred for this grandson, unchanged.
Trai could say nothing to his mother, but he wanted his son to stop holding vindictive resentment for what his grandmother did. He did not wish for his son to harbor hatred for his grandmother, even though he knew full well in his heart that his own mother had let Tul nearly die. His mother had once contemplated killing this grandson. He knew it had created wounds in Tul's heart, but as a father, he did not want his son to suffer torment from feelings of hatred instilled by that grandmother herself.
[[Translator's Note: The issue here is ยกโทษ (yók-tôot). This is a release of karmic resentment. It in no way releases the perpetrator from guilt or their own karma. Rather, it prevents the injured party from continuing to be harmed by being emotionally bound to the perpetrator. Put another way, if the perpetrator's karma is going to drag them into a pit, yók-tôot keeps the injured party from being dragged down with them.]]
Tul might seem like an ordinary young man who achieved success at an early age, but his father knew how much hardship his son had endured. What child could bear hearing someone told by their own grandmother, Let him die. Why should I spend money to ransom a child no one wants?
"Have you let go of your resentment toward her?"
The listener paused briefly before giving a faint smile.
"Father, you need not worry. I am not merely a seven-year-old child... everything has already passed." Tul spoke then rose abruptly to his feet.
"I'll go check on Ai Kon Hin. I asked him to circle around and park the car; he might be having trouble finding the room." With that, the young man stepped out.
His father's eyes followed his rigid back, whispering only to the hollow air, "Everything is my fault. Had I not been such a coward, you'd never have been forced to drink this cup of poison to its dregs."
Meanwhile...
Bang!
Tul wheeled around the corner, putting distance between himself and the suite—then drove his fist into the wall with a force that shuddered up his arm. His hands trembled violently, especially as his father's plea echoed in his skull. Release his burning resentment of that woman.
"Why must I give up my need to see the person who sent me to die suffer for it? Why?!" Tul whispered through gritted teeth, forcing his shaking hands to stay by his sides as memories of his harrowing childhood resurfaced.
At that time, he had cried out, pleading for someone to come and help him, but no one came. He was imprisoned for four days, with only a few million baht that his grandmother refused to part with. Four entire days during which the seven-year-old boy was beaten and tortured so severely that he thought he had died dozens of times. Why should that shattered child unclench his fist of resentment toward a venomous crone who played god with their lives?
No. That woman deserved to suffer—to endure the torment of everything she had done to him!
These thoughts surged through him as he prepared to punch the wall again. But then...
Grab.
"Please stop, Khun Tul," a firm voice accompanied by the grasp on his hand made Tul turn around. As soon as he saw the unwavering determination in the other's eyes, the only thing he could do was step forward and pull Kon Hin into a tight embrace. He whispered, as if he were still the boy he had once been:
"I can't let go of this. I can't do what he asks of me."
He could not let go of this hatred. He simply could not.
"Khun Tul, I am truly sorry for not taking better care of Khun Yaa."
After taking a moment to calm himself, Tul found himself caught off guard when a slender, elegant young woman called out, striding quickly toward him. Her voice carried a sense of distress as she spoke, and Tul forced himself to muster a smile, though it was far too strained to be genuine. His heart overflowed with anger, hatred, and bitterness, and the only thing keeping him grounded was the steady hand of his trusted companion resting lightly on his elbow.
"No, it's not your fault..."
"Khun Tul, you look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?"
The private nurse asked with concern, making a move as if to approach, hoping to get closer. She inwardly cursed the elderly woman whose seizures had necessitated her return to the hospital, completely derailing her plans to gain proximity to this man. So, seeing the eldest heir of the Metthanun family again, Priao wasted no time in rushing over, hoping to demonstrate her virtues.
However, she was no match for the trusted companion who was merely a servant.
Kon Hin swiftly stepped between the two, his sharp gaze dropping to the outstretched hand with a firm, authoritative expression. It was intense and decisive, utterly unlike the usual demeanor of the gentle-hearted Kon Hin. As the servant, he knew full well that his Chao-nai was in no mood to put on a friendly facade for anyone.
"Apologies. Khun Tul is still in shock from recent events. I'll take him to rest for a while; he'll feel better afterward."
"But..."
"No buts. I must apologize, Khun Priao, but my Chao-nai is more concerned about Khun Yaa's safety right now than discussing anything else," the dark-skinned man said with a smile, though his eyes remained stern and unyielding. His gaze was so intense that the elegant woman hesitated, wanting to approach Tul but secretly intimidated by Kon Hin.
"It's alright, Hin. It's alright," the Chao-nai interjected before his companion could say more, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Tul squeezed lightly and turned to give a smile to the other woman.
"Khun Priao, is there something you need?"
Although the young nurse was displeased with the other man, she quickly flashed a sweet smile as soon as the one in front of her began to engage. Then she spoke with a tone that exuded understanding.
"I truly don't know what happened. Over the past few days, Khun Yaa's condition had noticeably improved. Her responsiveness was so significant that even the doctor was surprised. I believe it's because I kept talking about you, Khun Tul. It seemed like she loved you very much. Every time I mentioned you, her responses were positive. I never imagined things would turn out like this," the woman said as if deeply bonded with the elderly woman, bowing her head to hide tears that seemed reluctant to fall.
Tul was momentarily silent.
It wasn't that he'd fallen for the woman's show of devotion, but because he now understood exactly what had happened.
Speaking about him was no different from dripping poison into that woman's system every day—slowly, lethally.
It wasn't that the woman couldn't fight against nature; she simply couldn't fight against him.
The thought twisted his stomach, even as his heart howled with vicious triumph. Yet, why did the organ in his chest burn as if branded with a red-hot iron, leaving a massive, searing wound?
"You talked about me, did you?" He asked.
"Yes. I spoke about you every day, Khun Tul, because you are her favorite grandchild. I can't believe something like this happened. I should have taken better care of her. I should have..." The woman bowed her head even lower, her voice trembling as though she was about to weep, her shoulders shaking.
Tul stepped closer and placed his hand on her small, delicate shoulder.
"You don't need to blame yourself. This isn't your fault, Khun Priao."
You merely helped me kill that woman without realizing it.
The mixed-heritage man looked down at the woman before him with cold eyes, his hand gently stroking her shoulder in a comforting manner that made her lift her flushed face to meet his gaze.
"Khun Tul, Priao thanks you so much."
The listener did not even know what the other was thanking him for, while the young nurse seemed about to take another step closer, prompting him to step back.
"It's nothing. I need to go and stay with Khun Mother now. Please don't blame yourself, Khun Priao. I'll excuse myself," Tul said with a tense expression, which left the other party too hesitant to argue. He quickly turned and walked away in the opposite direction.
Meanwhile, Kon Hin caught sight of the nurse's frustrated expression and sighed silently.
Just another woman approaching him for the wealth my Chao-nai possesses.
The greed in her eyes made Khun Tul tense his shoulders. He took long strides but did not return to the same room. Instead, his steps led him into the men's restroom. Pathapee, understanding what was needed, followed quickly and locked the door behind them.
Splash... Splash... Splash...
The faucet was turned fully open as Tul lathered both hands with liquid soap, his face contorted in disgust. He rubbed his hands together vigorously, indifferent to how soaked they became.
"Get out! Disgusting! Filthy! Repulsive!" Tul muttered, glaring at his hands that had touched what he considered the most revolting thing—the insatiable greed of that woman.
Every woman around him invoked the same disgust. To him, these women were beneath Rob's dog—less than a mangy, crippled cur. They desired only wealth, willing to do anything for their greed, no matter how harmful or despicable their performance might be.
Scrub... Scrub...
Tul scrubbed his hands as if they had come into contact with the vilest filth imaginable.
"Khun Tul."
"I hate them, Ai Hin. I hate them!"
"I know, sir." The trusted aide could only step closer and reach out to turn off the faucet.
Tul, meanwhile, kept his hands pressed against the edge of the counter. His sharp teeth ground together tightly, creating visible ridges, while his eyes burned fiercely with the fire of anger. The more he encountered women like this, the more it reminded him of the wretched life these women had forced upon him.
Kon Hin extended his hand to grasp Tul's wet hand, gently pulling a paper towel to dry it. His movements were light, deliberate, until the hand was completely dry. Then, he raised his eyes to look at his Chao-nai, who had closed his own in an effort to regain composure. Yet Tul's jaw remained clenched, his heartbeat so strong it was palpable through his palm. The intensity of the moment led the observer to a decision.
Kiss.
Tul's eyes snapped open at once when the warm, moist sensation touched the tip of his finger. It revealed the bright-colored tip of Kon Hin's tongue moving along the knuckles, deliberately licking. Though the one doing this did not look up, Tul could sense that Ai Hin was assisting—offering exactly what Tul seemed to need most.
The wet touch traced and grazed the fingertips, drawing Tul's finger into his mouth. The tongue swept fully to the base of the finger, slid between the spaces, and flicked across the palm. It let the long fingers glisten with saliva against Hin's face, without concern. All he knew was that he needed to help.
Ai Kon Hin must help Khun Tul return to where he belongs—not retreat further into that impenetrable iron wall isolating him from everyone else.
Kiss... Kisss...
The wordless actions conveyed only through the slick moisture, the warmth of breath, and the soft, nimble motions of a pink tongue swirling over Tul's hand. It wasn't long before Tul leaned back against the counter, eyes closing again as he tilted his head upwards, taking in a deep, steadying breath, and gazing at the ceiling.
The feeling of disgust faded, replaced by something else that prompted Tul to place his other hand on Kon Hin's head and utter only:
"Do it for me. Make me forget."
"Yes."
Of course, Kon Hin responded with just one word, knelt down, unfastened Tul's trousers, and performed what he had done so many times before... something only the two of them knew.
Kon Hin would overwrite the revulsion with his touch.
~~~
The surgery had been completed the night before, but the attending physician could not guarantee the elderly woman's survival. All that was offered were condolences and a request for the family to prepare themselves for the worst. There was only one person truly heartbroken by what had occurred... Trai.
The only one forced to close his eyes tightly, holding back tears, in stark contrast to his wife.
"I have told you to come back right now! Khun Yaa's condition is critical, and we don't even know if she'll survive, Tinn!"
She had spent the entire day calling her biological son, who had responded curtly each time:
"This has nothing to do with me. How many sentences have I ever exchanged with Khun Yaa?"
"Tinn! I am ordering you to come back!"
"The only one who can give me orders is P'Tul."
The boy at the other end of the line replied coldly, causing his biological mother to clench her fists tightly and snap back sharply.
"Fine! I'll have Tul call and get you himself!" The speaker hung up abruptly and turned back to glare at the tense atmosphere in the room with evident dissatisfaction. She then declared firmly:
"I'll deal with Tinn. You can visit your mother on your own."
Rasa stormed out of the room without a second glance at the others. Her husband clenched his jaw tightly but could only turn to look at his eldest son, who was unusually silent.
"And you?"
"I'd like to visit Khun Yaa as well," he replied.
Thus, only two people entered the intensive care unit this time.
One... filled with love.
And the other... overflowing with hatred so intense it made him wish for her death.
Tul's gaze bore into the woman lying in the ICU, breathing weakly, while his father approached the bed, speaking to his mother in a voice laden with regret—a tone that Tul loathed to his core. He didn't hate his father; he simply despised the man's non-reactive nature.
A man who had submitted to that old woman his entire life.
His father might excel at his work, but he had never escaped the shadow of his mother. Not even to protect his own son. If that day hadn't come when they threatened to kill him, his father might very well have stood idly by, watching Tul be tortured, his limbs broken one by one. Tul thought.
Tul paid no attention to what his father said. He stood motionless, staring at the wrinkled figure, committing it to memory because this was the final moment of the woman who had tormented him endlessly.
"Tul, do you have anything you'd like to say to your grandmother?" Trai turned to ask.
"I do not," he replied.
"Of course not," his father said with a sad smile that seemed on the verge of tears. He turned to head toward the door, but just as he was about to leave, Tul hesitated.
"I just remembered—there is something I want to say to Khun Yaa." The mixed-heritage young man took a step back, locking eyes with his biological father as though testing him. The older man nodded, stepping out first and leaving the eldest son to approach the dying woman.
Tul leaned down near her ear and whispered: "Do you know? I've wished you like this my whole life. Even if I die and descend into the deepest pit of hell, I'll never stop hating you. Remember this—you're just an ordinary human being, no different from me. You're not the exceptional person you deluded yourself into believing you were. I swear, I will take everything that belongs to you and make it mine. No matter how much you curse me, I don't care. The wealth you've hoarded will be mine. The reputation and legacy of this family will belong to me. Even the title you clung to so desperately will fall to this unwanted child."
Tul whispered with a soft, gentle tone. He didn't care if the old woman could comprehend them. All he cared about was embedding these words into her departing soul, following her spirit to the depths of hell. He vowed to claim everything this woman cherished for himself.
"It's a shame you won't live to see that day," he continued. "But I'll leave you with one final gift: I'll make your beloved grandson taste defeat, just as you forced it upon me."
"And Nai Tinn? If you're looking for someone to blame, then blame yourself for everything that's happened."
"Remember this—if your dearest grandson suffers, it will all be your fault. Yours alone!" Tul concluded with a heavy voice, straightening himself once more.
"Oh, and one last thing..." The young man leaned down, as though to touch his forehead to his grandmother's, and said:
"I am the victor! Take that with you to hell!"
Tul whispered his final words, stepping back and away, looking at the elderly woman who could no longer respond to him. Yet, as he looked on, it felt as though someone was squeezing the flesh in his chest with all their might—painful, agonizing, nearly unbearable. This, even while he smiled as though he were overjoyed.
His words made his grandmother cry.
The patient, with her eyes closed, let tears stream down both sides of her cheeks. Tul sneered, walking out without glancing back for even a second. This was supposed to be his happiest, most satisfying, and most exhilarating moment—as though he had finally rid himself of a long-standing burden.
But why? Why did he not feel as though his desires had been fulfilled? Why? I hate her. She deserves this.
She truly deserves it.
Even as the young man repeated these reassurances, the heart filled with the fire of vengeance seemed as though it would burn itself out... by his own actions.
Comments
Post a Comment