Everyone rushed to check on me, leaving Khai distracted giving the nurse a chance to inject him with the sedative. The doctor check me and found out I had fainted from being too overwhelmed with emotions.
We were taken to a VIP room to rest while waiting for our parents to arrive. After what felt like an eternity—maybe thirty minutes—Max's grandma and Khai's parents arrived. Seeing his grandmother, who had just lost the only person she had lived for, broke everyone's heart.
Khai's parents accompanied Max's grandma to the morgue. The moment she saw her precious grandson lying there—motionless, silent, no longer breathing—she broke down, unable to hold back the torrent of grief she had been suppressing since the call from the hospital. Khai's mom held her tightly, preventing her from collapsing to the ground.
When she was done, Max's grandma came to check on us, still trembling from the shock. Meanwhile, Khai's dad remained in the morgue, staring at the same boy he had treated as his own son. The promise he had made to his friend—to take care of his only son before he died—now tormented him. Max lay there, lifeless, and the pain he felt was a kind of agony that the living could never understand. Slowly, he covered him with the sheet, tears streaming down his face, as he forced himself to let go of something he could never truly release.
After he was done, he wiped his tears and came to accompany Khai and me. Seeing Khai's parents there, P'New decided to take everyone home to rest, letting this horrible day pass. He took Kit, whose face was puffy from crying, to his room until he was sure Kit was okay. P'Pharm took Som and Lay to stay with him for a few days until they were all stable.
Upon hearing the news of Max's death, my parents took the first flight to Thailand to support Max's grandma and be there for Khai and me. By the time they arrived at the hospital, it was already morning. Seeing their own son and the very same boy they had watched grow—lying unconscious, hooked to a drips on the hospital bed, with one missing, brought them to tears.
Smelling the familiar scent I had known since birth, I stirred from my rest. My mom tried hard to smile, hiding all her pain as she comforted me, but she couldn't keep it up for long.
"Lûuk, you're awake. Are you okay? Do you want me to get you something?" she asked, forcing a smile while I just lay there, emotionless, saying nothing.
"Lûuk, say something to Mommy, please… uhh… uhh… uhh! Please, Wit, talk to Mommy," she begged, her sobs breaking through the silence. She could no longer hold back her tears, seeing her own child lying there in pain and unable to help him.
My dad, upon seeing me emotionless after waking up, rushed out to get a doctor. Just as the doctor was busy checking me, Khai also woke up—only to fall into the same condition as me: lying still on the bed, unmoving, unresponsive, and silent.
After finishing with me, the doctor moved to Khai to assess his condition. When he was done, he stepped out with our parents to speak with them privately.
"From what I've observed," the doctor began, his tone heavy with concern, "both of your children are experiencing a severe depressive response to grief. For treatment, you'll need to see a psychiatrist for further diagnosis, but I have to be honest—based on what I'm seeing, their condition is very serious. If this continues, it could lead to a forced brain and body shutdown."
The room went still.
"Doctor, what do you mean by that?" Khai's mom asked, her voice trembling as fear began to consume her whole body.
The doctor exhaled softly before continuing. "What I'm saying is that your children are experiencing an extreme case of grief. Their minds are shutting down as a defense mechanism. If this goes on, their brains could trigger a total shutdown of body and mind. In other words…" he paused, meeting their tearful eyes, "…they could end up brain dead from grief."