It's noon at the self-serve cafeteria.
"She didn't even know he was married. Then his wife showed up out of nowhere, and bam—he dumped her."
"Look at her, totally zoned out. I heard she's losing it."
"Who's to blame? What did she expect? Hooking up with the attending doc was never gonna end well."
"Dreamy date with Mr. Perfect—look at that hair. Who could top him?"
"Uh, Dr. Duncan's hotter and way more perfect. You're off your game."
"Don't you know they've all got daddy issues?"
"I feel bad for her, though. She's stuck working here with him—and them—while everyone knows everything~"
"Everyone knows everything~"
Adam walks over with his tray and catches his coworkers sneaking glances at Meredith while their gossip buzzes around him.
"So, how you holding up?" he says with a grin, plopping down across from Meredith, who's pretending to flip through a book.
"I'm fine," she replies, her face blank as she spares him a quick glance before burying her nose back in her pages.
The whispers around them might be hushed, but those stares? Totally unfiltered. Some pitying, some mocking—like little needles jabbing at her face. No way she doesn't notice.
But like she told Dr. Bailey when she butted heads with her way back when: she'd handle the consequences herself. Didn't think it'd come true like this, though. Turns out it's not her and him against the world—just her, alone, taking the heat.
Back then, people envied her, hated her guts for it. Now? The gossip's hitting them like a sweet revenge high! Compared to this mess, the grunt work and dirty jobs Bailey used to dump on her feel like a kindness.
"OMG!" Liz storms over, plunks down next to them, and rolls her eyes so hard they might get stuck. "I can't deal with the Shepherds right now."
"What's up?" Adam asks, chuckling.
Meredith's ears perk up so fast you can practically see them twitch.
"So, this couple—friends of the Shepherds—drove in from Boston," Liz says, chomping on her food mid-sentence. "Montgomery's bestie's mom died a month ago from ovarian and breast cancer. She got tested—positive for the mutant gene."
"Positive doesn't mean she's got cancer, though," Adam says, surprised. "She's not thinking surgery already, is she?"
"Yup," Liz groans. "85% odds are high, sure, but she's not taking any chances. Tomorrow's double mastectomy and fake boobs, then the next day—hysterectomy and both ovaries out."
"Whoa," Adam sucks in a breath. "That's hardcore. Her husband's gotta be against it, right?"
"If you were her husband, would you be cool with it?" Liz shoots back.
"…" Adam's mouth twitches.
Yeah, those surgeries wipe out any chance of cancer by yanking the soil it grows in—no mutant gene playground left. But the fallout? Brutal. First, she's sterile—no kids, ever. Second, her skin's aging ten years overnight. Third, her emotions might tank hard, maybe even vanish completely, turning her into Leonard's mom, Beverly-level ice queen. Then there's the silicone implants and their side effects. And that's just the main stuff—random complications could pile on anytime.
Everything that makes her a woman? Gone in a few cuts. How many husbands could handle that?
"She's still got a 15% chance of never getting it," Adam points out. "Even if she does, there's treatment. No need to roll the dice this big."
"That's what her husband's been telling her," Liz says, shaking her head. "But she's dead-set against any risk. Dr. Montgomery's backing her up, Dr. Shepherd's siding with the husband—they're fighting worse than the couple themselves. It's not even their first showdown."
"So what happened?" Meredith finally pipes up.
Back during that train derailment mess, she'd been hungover, hooked to a vitamin drip, and half out of it. Ran into someone she knew and was dying to hear some trash talk about her rival, Dr. Montgomery. Just one "bitch" would've made her day. Everything was lining up in her favor—until Shepherd hit her with, "She's my wife, how could I abandon her?" and crushed her dreams.
Even now, she can't believe she lost. Lost so inexplicably. No way she's okay with it—she's still itching for a comeback. A lover and rival duking it out? That's her kind of drama.
"Montgomery's got me digging through her and her family's full medical history for pre-op," Liz sighs. "Surgery's tomorrow and the day after. Men can get breast cancer too, y'know—there's a gene test for it. But almost no guy bothers, and even if they test positive, none are chopping stuff off preemptively to be 'safe.' This woman's castrating herself. She's naive enough to think her husband loves just her, not her looks or body or anything else. She's gonna regret it, mark my words."
"Her husband's against it, isn't he?" Adam says, shaking his head. "That's a neon sign she's ignoring. If she goes through with it and they divorce, it's not all on him."
If she had ovarian or breast cancer and needed those parts removed, asking her husband to stand by her would make sense. But this? Just a chance? That's a whole different story.
Love's all hormones. Cut those out, and love's DOA. Sure, friendship and family vibes can keep life happy without it—but steamrolling her husband's feelings and clear objections? That's a one-way ticket to tanking even those. How's that supposed to last?
"Montgomery's snapping pics of her bestie with a camera," Liz shrugs. "Y'know, for after tomorrow's surgery… Says it's a Christmas gift for the husband, so he'll 'always remember.'"
"…" Adam's mouth twitches again.
There's that saying: the poor waste electricity, the rich waste their lives. Poor folks settle for art pics or movies—cuz they've got no choice. Rich people? Why bother watching when you can live it?
"So, you're not on her side?" Adam asks Liz.
"Nope," Liz nods firmly. "She's being an idiot. Once she cools off down the road, she'll be miserable. She even tried convincing me to back her up, but I can't."
"It's cool," Adam says, patting her shoulder. "Don't force it. Be you. If you're too worked up to handle it, I can step in."
"…" Liz stares at him, jaw dropped.
"What?" Adam says, all earnest. "Those surgeries are tricky and huge. If you can't give 100%, I'll cover for you. It's all for the patient, right?"
Liz chucks her drink onto her tray, flips him double middle fingers, and storms off with her food. She's never met someone so shameless.