Apartment Party
"Whatever, I'm chill," Ted said, striking a pose with way too much effort.
"Nobody's more chill than me," he added, vibing hard.
He was clearly waiting for his big moment—half an hour from now, he'd explode onto the scene.
"Ted!"
Matthew and Lily walked over, catching him still trying so hard to look casual. They couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.
"Stop pretending. Robin's gone," Lily blurted out.
"What?"
Ted froze. He hadn't even stepped into the spotlight yet, and the leading lady had already left the stage?
"Robin's into Adam…" Lily explained, laying it all out.
"No!"
Ted couldn't handle it. Especially when he heard how Robin acted when she first met Adam—it was eerily similar to how he felt when he first saw her. It wrecked him.
"It's the truth," Matthew said, his gaze suddenly steady. "Ted, face it—Robin's not your one true love."
"No! She is!" Ted shouted.
"Oh, really?" Matthew shot back. "Got any proof? That love-at-first-sight vibe doesn't count. Robin's reaction already showed it's just hormones talking."
"We've got the same interests," Ted argued, scrambling for evidence that he and Robin were meant to be. "She likes dogs, Scotch whisky, quoting Ghostbusters lines. She hates olives—yes! The olive theory! You guys came up with that one yourselves."
Lily loved olives. Matthew hated them. When it came to olives, no fights, no fuss—just perfect harmony. They'd dubbed it the "olive theory."
Matthew pressed his lips together and turned to Lily. "Babe, I'm sorry. I lied—I actually like olives too."
"What?"
Lily and Ted gasped in unison.
"It was our first date," Matthew explained, sheepish. "Lily, you asked if you could have my olives. I was just an 18-year-old horndog back then, waiting my whole life for a girl to take my olive branch—figuratively speaking. What was I supposed to say besides, 'Sure, I hate olives'?"
"No!" Lily groaned, pained.
Ted just stared, dazed.
"I'm sorry, Lily, I lied," Matthew said. "But does our relationship really need some olive theory to hold it up?"
Lily paused, then locked eyes with him, her voice soft but certain. "No, it doesn't."
"Ted," Matthew continued, holding Lily's hand and turning to him, "you've seen every first Lily and I ever had. Remember what it was like when we started dating? Was it anything like you are now—barely even in a relationship, already throwing around 'I love you' and 'you're my soulmate'?"
Ted went quiet.
Back when Matthew first started dating Lily, he'd been straight with Ted: "Bro, it's just a fling. You don't think I'd give up the whole forest for one tree, do you?"
"Relationships take time to build," Matthew pressed on, his wannabe-lawyer energy kicking in. "If you really believe in soulmates, then you should trust that you don't have to try so hard to find her. One day, she'll just show up—like Lily did when she knocked on my dorm room door.
"But you've gotta be ready. Don't rush it. Take it slow, get to know her. What's yours will always be yours. If you keep doing what you've been doing—falling head over heels for every girl you meet, going all-in too fast, burning hot one second and ice-cold the next—you're gonna hurt a lot of good women.
"And if you don't change? Even if your 'one true love' shows up—or even if it's Robin and she falls for you—can you say you'll still feel this way in a month? What about a year? How many 'Robins' have you already left in the dust?"
Ted opened his mouth but couldn't answer.
Without a photographic memory, he honestly couldn't keep count.
"You've been hanging around Barney too much," Matthew sighed. "You're too goal-oriented. You see me and Lily getting engaged, and bam—you want love, you want a ring, and you lock onto that. How's that any different from Barney and his random challenges? Where's the Ted who used to cry over a picture of his high school sweetheart, Helen? Can you even feel that way anymore?"
"Yeah," Lily chimed in. "Even if the olive theory was real, so what? It's just one tiny thing you and Robin might click on. How many olives do you even eat in a year? The real difference between you two is how you see love and work. She's all about her career, chasing it across the country—maybe the world. You're all about feelings.
"Imagine her reporting news all over the U.S., or even globally, and you barely see each other a few times a year. Even if it's true love, what then? That's the big, unfixable problem—not some theory we made up, but the long-distance reality everyone knows about. You're not some kid scamming high school girls before college anymore."
"Ted, take some time to figure yourself out," Matthew said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't rush. If destiny's real, then today, tomorrow—someday—she'll show up."
Ted stood there, silent.
Was he really wrong? Had he already let his true soulmate slip away?
---
The Next Day
Medical Center
"How's Cristina doing?" Adam asked, running into Meredith outside the hospital.
"They got her into surgery in time. She's fine—she's even itching to get back to work today," Meredith said with a faint smile.
"Heh," Adam chuckled.
That sounded exactly like Cristina.
"George!" Meredith called out as George hurried past.
He didn't even glance her way, just stormed into the hospital.
Meredith gave a wry smile.
"No!" Adam muttered, a bad feeling creeping up. "Don't tell me George went back to the clinic last night?"
Meredith didn't answer. She just dropped her head and walked inside.
"No!" Adam groaned, rubbing his temples.
This vibe? Something was definitely up.
And there went the favor he'd earned from Dr. Shepherd, the attending—poof, gone.
Damn that 100% drunk-pants-dropping curse.
Locker Room
SLAM!
George changed into his scrubs and slammed his locker shut.
That much anger? Did he strike out?
Adam kept his thoughts to himself, playing it cool like he hadn't heard a thing.
Last night's memories were fuzzy—just telling Meredith to look after Cristina and dragging George out. Beyond that? Nada.
With that, Adam mentally locked away his guesswork.
File name: 19980901. Size: 30MB. Encrypted.
He glanced at his mental "folder." Next to it, file 19980831 stood out—48GB of space.
Having a photographic memory like this wasn't surprising to him. He'd "copied" it from Sheldon.
Little Sheldon could recall his parents' unmentionable moments from infancy, triggered by his dad's "damn" over some beef. Grown-up Sheldon once stewed for years over something that ticked him off, only unleashing it to teach Leonard a lesson.
How'd he manage that with his personality? Easy—encrypt the maddening memory,Whether it's taking the initiative or being passive..., tuck it away until the right moment to crack it open.
If Sheldon could do it, so could Adam.
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