Medical Center. Self-Service Cafeteria.
Adam's words left George speechless for a moment.
"She might not regret it…" George said with a bitter tone.
"Maybe," Adam nodded. "But you can't deny there's a chance she could. She's still young, barely past being a kid—her mind's not set yet. One day she's obsessed with something, the next she might totally hate it. Can you guarantee she won't look back and regret this?"
People's hearts change, and that's no joke.
"So, what, we just do nothing?" Liz asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
"We're just doctors," Adam shook his head. "We handle the professional stuff, the medical side—we're tools, that's it. Decisions about life choices and their consequences? That's for the patient and their family to figure out. We don't get to meddle. Without that line, things will blow up eventually.
Take Beth's case, for example. Talk to her parents properly, remove the real problem—the lymph node tumor—first. As for the heart transplant? Let her decide when she's an adult. What's the rush?"
"…" George froze. "But Beth's so confused right now…"
"Oh, come on!" Adam laughed. "Teenagers are confused about a million things. Guide her, let time do its thing. Half the stuff they freak out about now will look hilarious when they're older, trust me. 😂"
"George, listen to Adam," Liz chimed in, convinced. "He's right. There's no need to rush into a decision about the heart surgery. Beth can make that call herself when she's grown up."
"…Fine," George said with a wry smile.
He'd finally stepped up, even clashed with Dr. Montgomery over it, thinking he was doing right by Beth. But now? It felt like a pointless impulse—like he'd gotten worked up over nothing.
"Heh," Adam couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Liz asked, puzzled.
"You guys," Adam shook his head, grinning. "Most interns focus on sharpening their skills during residency training. But you, George, and Meredith? It's like you're all working on your emotions instead. I don't even know what to say."
"…" Liz and George's faces darkened—they were not happy about that comment. But when they met Adam's gaze, they couldn't argue back.
Because, yeah, the three of them did have their issues—none of which were really about skill. It was all mindset stuff. Other interns? They rarely messed up like this. Cristina? Almost never. And Adam? He was basically flawless.
"Though, I get it," Adam added with a smile. "You three have real talent for medicine. People with talent tend to have tempers and stick to their guns—it's what makes you stand out."
"And what about you and Cristina?" Liz shot back, a little sarcastic. "No talent there, huh?"
Adam just smirked, saying nothing. To him, Liz and the others were like half-filled buckets sloshing around. The less talented interns kept their heads down, followed the rules, and stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he and Cristina? Their talent was off the charts—they already had the steady mindset of top-tier doctors. Naturally, they didn't break rules either.
But Liz, George, and Meredith? Stuck in the middle, wobbly and always stirring up trouble.
"Adam!" Meredith suddenly dashed over, out of breath. "Do you speak Islandese?"
"Yup," Adam nodded.
"Awesome, come with me!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the wards. "There's an Islandese patient we can't communicate with—her translator's kinda sketchy."
"The translator's off?" Adam asked, surprised.
"Yeah," Meredith explained as they hurried along. "Her name's Yumi Miyazaki, 22, keeps hiccupping nonstop. We gave her 50ml of sedative—it stopped for a bit, but then started again. Dr. Bailey had me order an esophageal X-ray, and turns out there's a tear in her esophagus. She needs surgery ASAP to fix it.
But her translator—who's also her coach—says she's got this big 'Taste of New York' eating contest this afternoon. He doesn't seem to want to tell her the truth so she can still compete."
"An eating contest pro?" Adam's mouth twitched. "Her esophagus is already torn, and she still wants to stuff her face? Talk about choosing cash over life! 🙄 Those kinds of gigs waste food, ruin health—they should just ban them."
"She's a pro, apparently," Meredith said with a laugh. "Back in her country, she's practically a TV star—super popular."
Outside the Ward.
"Where are you two headed?" Meredith stepped in front of an Islandese man and woman.
"We've got some stuff to handle…" the male coach said vaguely.
"Does Ms. Miyazaki know about her condition?" Meredith pressed.
"She does," the coach said firmly, then muttered a few words in Islandese to Yumi.
Yumi nodded at Meredith.
"See?" the coach said, starting to guide Yumi away.
"That's not what you told her," Adam cut in, blocking their path. He flashed a smile and started chatting with Yumi directly in Islandese.
"Nani?!" Yumi blurted out, totally shocked.
"Yumi, listen," the coach said, keeping his cool despite being caught. "This afternoon's contest is make-or-break for your career. We have to go."
"Sure," Adam said, still in Islandese with a grin. "But your esophagus is torn. If you skip surgery and do this contest instead, there's a huge chance it'll rip wide open from the food. That's not just life-threatening—it'll mess up eating normally forever, let alone competing. Is that what you want?"
"YAMETE!" Yumi practically shouted.
"…" Adam's mouth twitched again.
Meredith, who didn't speak Islandese, gave him a weird look. So did a bunch of doctors and nurses in the hallway. They might not know the language, but that phrase? Way too famous.
An Islandese woman yelling it at the legendary Dr. Duncan in public? Uh… their minds instantly jumped to a dozen action-art flick scenarios.
The male staff shuffled awkwardly, coughing and glancing around. The female staff? Blushing hard.
Thanks, Islandese exports—you're too powerful. 😅
"So, Ms. Miyazaki's skipping the contest for surgery?" Adam asked, forcing down his internal facepalm and keeping a professional smile.
"Yes," Yumi nodded.
"You heard her, Coach," Adam said in English, turning to the now grim-faced man. "Ms. Miyazaki's choosing surgery."
"Got it. I'll contact the contest organizers," the coach replied. He locked eyes with Yumi for a moment, sighed, and walked off.
People love to roll the dice. The coach and Yumi usually saw eye-to-eye on profit, but now? For Yumi, skipping the contest meant no second chances—competing could ruin her life. For the coach? Losing a star player was a bummer, but he could just bow, apologize, and train the next one.
Perspective's everything, huh? 🤷♂️
belamy20