New York. Hudson Riverfront. Vance-Mutt Hotel. Wedding Venue.
"I'll walk you out," Adam said with a smile, gesturing toward the door.
"Tell Matthew I'm sorry for me," Gretchen said to the group of younger law school students.
"Mm-hmm," they mumbled back. The guys barely reacted, while the girls huddled together, whispering and ignoring her.
Adam was now 80-90% sure of his hunch. These law students weren't exactly the warm-and-fuzzy type. Not a single one of them was some naive pushover. Law school drilled them to connect theory to real-life cases—classes were never dull. The professors were smooth talkers, spinning wild, worldview-shattering true stories that kept everyone hooked.
The endgame? To churn out sharp minds in slick suits, brainstorming like mad and dancing on the edge of the law. Doze off in class, and you'd end up like some bumbling lawyer, screwing over your clients—or worse, landing yourself behind bars, sweating buckets with a bunch of tough guys eyeing you.
Even as second-year grad students, these kids had eagle eyes. They could spot motives a mile away, always assuming the worst about people's actions. Exaggerate a bit, and they were like Batman in the Dark Knight—hundreds of contingency plans in the Batcomputer for foes and friends alike. Total pros!
Well… minus the "destroy yourself" plan, anyway.
Novelists couldn't dream up plots as wild as their minds. Writers had to worry about logic; these guys didn't. Real life handed them endless bizarre, magical cases on a platter. Like that old writer Zhou Shuren said about Dream of the Red Chamber: "It's real, so it feels fresh"—a timeless masterpiece. Or take that lawless internet star who gained millions of followers in months. Who else could pull that off?
As Adam escorted Gretchen out of the hotel, he grinned and said, "I'm a Columbia alum too. What year did you graduate, senior?"
"Class of '98," Gretchen muttered, her voice low.
"Oh, nice," Adam nodded. "Three years ahead of Matthew. I think the bar exam's twice a year—how many times have you taken it since graduating?"
"…Twice. About to go for a third," Gretchen said, her body tensing. "I wasn't ready the first two times, but I'm really ready now. I'll pass this time, I swear."
"I believe you," Adam said with a noncommittal smile.
"I will pass," she insisted, avoiding his gaze and staring at the ground. "My head's full of tort law, property law, and constitutional stuff right now. I can't focus on anything else."
"Totally get it," Adam nodded. "Just… try to be more careful, okay? Don't accidentally hurt your hand again. You know I'm a med school grad—I can tell your hand's been injured before, maybe a few months back. If I'm not mistaken, the bar exam's in February and July…"
"No, it's not what you think!" Gretchen suddenly shouted, cutting him off. "You've got it wrong! I hurt it in March!"
"Okay, okay," Adam shrugged, keeping it chill. "No need to get worked up, senior. I didn't mean anything by it. I just get how it feels—everyone's got high expectations, and failing over and over piles on the pressure. It's normal to wanna dodge it sometimes."
"You've felt that too?" Gretchen looked at him, stunned.
"Yup," Adam nodded.
In this life, with his cheat codes, not so much. But in his past life? Oh, he'd been there.
"How'd you deal with it?" she asked, eyes full of hope.
"Shift your mindset," Adam said seriously. "Don't live for other people's eyes—live for yourself. Do your best, but don't beat yourself up or hurt yourself. And definitely don't hurt anyone else. Hey, what do you think of Matthew and Lily as a couple?"
"…" Gretchen's face turned bright red.
Bingo. Adam had it all figured out now.
This senior wasn't just crumbling under the pressure of failing the bar exam multiple times, hurting herself to escape. She had a thing for Matthew too. Injuring her hand now? Two birds, one stone.
Was it because she couldn't stand seeing Matthew and Lily's sweet wedding and wanted to bail again? Or was it a spiteful jab to mess with Lily? Hard to say.
"I just needed an excuse," Gretchen mumbled, ashamed.
"It's all good," Adam said after a moment, smiling. "I'm sure you'll find your own someone too. Get past this hump, and the world'll brighten up again. You made it into Columbia Law—smarts aren't your problem. Maybe it's just your headspace.
Lots of people crack right before the big test. Could be you're one of them. If the pressure's too much, step back, try a different job—no big deal. There are a million paths out there, and everyone's got options. Just don't go down the dark road of hurting yourself or others."
He could tell she really liked Matthew. Fair enough—future "Marshmallow Justice," the loyal giant teddy bear? Guy was a catch. If he hadn't locked it down with Lily, he'd be swimming in admirers. No one wanting him would've been the real shocker!
But Adam also figured Gretchen wasn't some scheming mean girl trying to sabotage Lily. She'd just gotten too good at running away, aiming for a double win: skip the heartbreaking wedding and set up an excuse to dodge the bar exam in a few weeks by "accidentally" getting hurt in front of everyone.
If she were truly vicious, she'd have passed the bar ages ago and wouldn't even flinch at Adam's words. So, he decided to give her a gentle nudge.
From his past life's experiences and this life's wisdom, he knew a kind hand could sometimes save a life. If more people offered that, fewer would spiral to extremes. Often, all someone needed was a wake-up slap—figuratively, of course. The kind of "hit" that left the person and the onlookers touched. That's real "hitting is caring, scolding is love"! 😌
"Thanks," Gretchen said, genuinely moved.
It was 1999—no flood of cheesy motivational quotes yet. She bought Adam's advice hook, line, and sinker—no knee-jerk "ugh, self-help nonsense" reaction here. She was legit grateful.
Out of the corner of his eye, Adam spotted Lily's high school ex, Scooter, still circling the hotel, looking for a way to sneak back in. The waiter, though, was on him like glue, sticking to Adam's orders to keep him out and save the wedding.
"Scooter! Over here!" Adam waved him over.
Scooter didn't wanna come, but the waiter gave him a little shove, and over he trudged.
"What?" Scooter grumbled, sulking.
"Do me a favor," Adam said with a grin. "Take my senior here to the medical center to get her hand checked out."
"No, it's fine—I can go myself," Gretchen said, embarrassed.
"He's got nothing better to do," Adam laughed. "You two can chat about Matthew and Lily. Might hit it off!"
"I—" Scooter started to protest.
One look from Adam, and he caved. Guy was a goofy clown—showed up to "steal the bride" but had to ask the groom's best man how it's done. Pre-ceremony or post-ceremony? Snake moves, cross-eyes, spinning in circles—he was more comic relief than rival!
"Fine," Scooter muttered, defeated.
Adam flagged down a cab, watched them climb in, and waved as they drove off. One crushing on Lily, the other on Matthew—neither bad people. Sending them off together? Who knows, maybe sparks would fly. That'd be a good deed in the books! 😏
"Nice work. Keep an eye out—don't let him circle back," Adam said, slipping the waiter a Benjamin.
"Yes, sir!" The waiter beamed like he'd won the lottery. "Thank you, sir!"
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(Chapter End)