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Medical Center.
After Adam and Christina finished running a CT scan for Gilly, they stepped out only to be intercepted by Rachel.
"Gilly has cancer?" The girl in red, Rachel, clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to keep her emotions in check.
"We'll need a few more hours for the biopsy results," Adam said gently.
"If she does have cancer, you have to tell me first," Rachel said, fighting back tears. "Because if you break the news in front of her, I'll cry. And if I cry, she'll cry too. I don't want that."
"You should brace yourself," Adam warned. "With symptoms this obvious, I think Gilly already knows something's up. Crying together might not be the worst thing—it's better than bottling it all up."
Rachel paused, glancing at Adam before nodding. "Maybe you're right… No wonder Gilly's been acting off. Normally, even if you're a doctor, she'd never let you check her for something like this, let alone stick with it…" Her voice broke as she turned away, covering her mouth and sobbing quietly. "She must've known already and wanted to do something different, something meaningful. That's why she's changed so much."
Adam and Christina exchanged a quiet look, saying nothing.
If it were just early-stage cervical cancer with no spread, they could remove the uterus, excise the tumor, and pair it with chemo later—Gilly could live for years. But the scans showed the cancer had already spread. How far? Surgery would tell. The CT alone, though, painted a grim picture.
"Does she have any family we should contact?" Adam asked.
"She has parents…" Rachel wiped her tears, choking out, "But we ran away from home at 16. Haven't been back since, no contact at all."
"Why?" Christina couldn't help but ask.
"It's complicated," Rachel shook her head. "Point is, we're not reaching out to them. Don't you dare either. I'm her family now—she's mine too, the only one I've got!"
"We'll respect your wishes," Adam said evenly.
She might be right in her heart, but legally, she wasn't family—no rights there. Still, Adam and Christina would leave it at that; whether Gilly's actual family got involved was up to them.
"I hear chemo comes after surgery like this," Rachel said, drying her eyes with a determined look. "I'm calling the restaurant now—switching my day shifts to nights so I can drive Gilly to her treatments every day." She pulled out her phone, stepping aside to make the call.
Day shift versus night shift? Anyone would get the difference. Especially for a young woman whose youth was fleeting, making that choice wasn't easy. 😓
As Zhou Shuren once said, "Judge people by their actions, not their hearts." But when you meet someone whose actions and heart align like this, what's left to say? You cherish them.
Adam and Christina were both curious about what these two sisters-in-arms had been through. But it was private—best not to pry.
Not long after, though, they got their answer.
An elderly couple in plain black clothes showed up at the hospital, looking uneasy. Adam clocked them instantly—not ordinary folks, but devout Mennonites. These believers stuck to a uniform black dress code, lived in tight-knit farming communes, and held ultra-conservative views, treating the Bible as the ultimate guide. No cars—just horse-drawn carriages. No electric lights either. One glimpse told the whole story: they were starkly out of place in the modern world.
"We're looking for Gilly Anmiller," the wife said, her face etched with worry.
"You're Gilly's parents?" Adam realized.
The Mennonites were a branch of Protestant Christianity, but unlike those baptized as clueless kids, this group prized free choice and steadfast faith. Kids in their communities only decided whether to get baptized as adults. No surprise there—living that primitive farming life demanded unshakable devotion. Baptism day was huge: accept it, and you're in the community for good; reject it, and you're cast out. Literally. Exiles couldn't return, and no one—not even their parents—could contact them. No talking, no eye contact. To the community, they were dead.
Gilly and Rachel had come from that world. No wonder they'd cut ties completely after running away.
"Follow me," Adam said, leading the couple to Gilly's room.
Just outside, they heard Rachel chattering away, reassuring Gilly about their plans: "Don't worry, don't be scared—I've got you. I'll be with you the whole time."
"Mom? Dad?" Gilly had been smiling faintly as she listened, a shadow of gloom in her eyes, until Adam brought the couple to the doorway. Her face lit up, and she couldn't help but call out.
"How'd you get here?" Rachel whipped around, her expression darkening as she glared at Adam. "Did you call them?"
"No," Adam clarified. "You just got admitted. Even if we'd notified them, they wouldn't be here this fast."
"It's okay, Little Ray," Gilly said, trying to calm her despite her own excitement.
"No!" Rachel snapped. "They want to take you back. Have you forgotten why we left? Do you really want to go back to that disgusting place?"
Gilly and Rachel locked eyes, caught in a painful standoff. It was obvious now—Gilly must've called her parents herself. How else could they have shown up so quickly? And for them to get here that fast, they'd have had to fly—a massive leap for people like them, proof of how much they loved her.
"They're puppets chained by faith," Rachel said, her voice heavy with worry and sorrow. "Some of them turn into monsters at any moment. I don't trust them. Your parents just played deaf and blind when the devils came—they couldn't protect you. We barely escaped. Do you want to face that danger again? I rejected baptism—I can't go back. If you do, I won't be able to stay with you or protect you anymore."
"Mom, Dad…" Gilly looked at Rachel, then at her mother's loving face and her father's feigned indifference masking real concern. After a long, torn moment, she said hoarsely, "You should go."
In the end, she chose Rachel. They'd promised to stick together, from life to death. If Gilly left, Rachel would be alone—out in the world, worrying about her back in that community. How could she bear that?
"But you're about to have surgery," her mother blurted out. With Rachel—an outcast—there, she'd held back from speaking or even looking at Gilly too much, but this broke her restraint.
"I know," Gilly said, her voice rough. "But you coming here was a mistake… It's making this harder for me…"
Her parents left the room, defeated.
From their words, though, Adam pieced together a lot. His gaze softened as he looked at Rachel. If he wasn't mistaken, she might just be another fierce, brave Little Red Riding Hood. She'd once saved and protected Gilly, and their shared struggles had forged a bond so deep that even now, with her parents in the picture, Gilly still chose her.