The Deadly Charm

Part 40 : Shadows of the Past

What Comes Back Must Be Faced

One month had passed since the nightmare ended, and yet, the shadows lingered.

That afternoon, Teerathep made a quiet decision—one not born of obligation but of closure. He would visit Kanrawee in the hospital. After all that had happened, after everything she had done, he still felt he owed her one final farewell.

Sitting beside him in the car, Nattarinee was silent. Her heart was a tangle of emotions—anger, pity, unease. Kanrawee had caused her unbearable suffering... and yet, she was still human. Still broken.

They arrived at the hospital under a sunless sky. Inside, the corridors were eerily still, the only sound the rhythmic beeping of machines behind closed doors. They made their way through the long hallway, each step heavier than the last.

At the door to the room, Teerathep paused. He exhaled deeply and pushed it open.

The room was dim, only slivered daylight seeping through half-drawn curtains. The cold was the first thing he felt—an unnatural chill that didn't belong in a hospital room.

And then he saw her.

Or what was left of her.

The confident, captivating woman he once knew—Kanrawee—was gone. What remained on the bed was a hollow, ghost-like shell.

Her body was skeletal, her skin pale and waxy like melting candlelight. Her abdomen was grotesquely bloated, twisted, distorted by the very curse she had unleashed on another. It had turned on her.

Her face was unrecognizable. The once-beautiful features had collapsed under the weight of her torment. Her eyes were wide—too wide, fixed in an unblinking stare as if locked open by fear. Crimson veins bulged under her skin. Her lips were cracked and bloodied. Every breath she took came in a thin, dry rasp, like her lungs were filled with broken glass.

And beneath her skin... it moved.

The cursed hide inside her pulsed, writhed. It hadn't died. It lived, feeding on her. Tearing her apart from within, inch by inch.

Teerathep felt his knees weaken at the sight. The anger he had once held for her dissolved into something far heavier.

Grief.

Pity.

He stepped closer and reached out, his fingers brushing her bony hand. It was ice-cold and trembling.

"Rawee..." he said softly.

Her wide, bloodshot eyes glistened as tears began to fall. She couldn't speak. She couldn't scream. She could only feel—and feel everything.

Every second.

Nattarinee stood by Teerathep, her breath caught in her throat. The woman who had once tormented her now lay trapped in a living hell. And for a flickering moment, she realized—

That could've been me.

Teerathep squeezed Kanrawee's hand gently. His voice broke as he continued, "I'm sorry... that it came to this."

He looked down at her—this woman who had once been his wife, now consumed by her own vengeance.

"You hurt Natt," he whispered. "You went too far. But I don't want this for you. No one deserves this."

Kanrawee trembled. More blood stained her lips.

And yet... she remained silent.

Her body no longer belonged to her. Her mind, perhaps, didn't either.

There was no peace left. No redemption. Only a pain that had no end. No escape. No healing.

Just consequence.

The minutes passed like hours.

Teerathep finally let go of her hand and turned to Nattarinee.

"We should go," he said, his voice soft. "Let her rest."

Nattarinee nodded, eyes glistening, lips sealed. Together, they stepped out of the room, leaving behind only silence and a soul suffering the weight of her own creation.

As they exited the hospital, Teerathep felt something lift from his chest—not relief, exactly, but resolution. He had faced the past. And now, he was ready to move forward with the woman he loved.

Kanrawee would never leave that room. Not truly. Her body would survive, but her soul... her soul was locked in endless torment, imprisoned by the darkness she once embraced.

There would be no miracle.

There would be no mercy.

Only the long, quiet agony of a life unraveling, one breath at a time.