Ethan had barely stepped back into the apartment and hadn't even changed his shoes when Leonard sprang up like a coiled spring.
"So, how did it go??"
Ethan hadn't fully processed the conversation yet. He said thoughtfully, "She just said I was pretty cute..."
"...What?" Sheldon looked up, his eyebrows practically forming an arch.
Leonard looked completely bewildered. "Are you sure she was referring to—you?"
Ethan paused, realizing he had let something slip. He cleared his throat. "Uh, what I meant to say was—"
"The good news is, she's not angry anymore. For now."
"For now?" Leonard immediately seized on the keyword.
"Yes. Those were her exact words. I suggest you give her one more formal apology, and everything should be fine. Sheldon, don't you dare!"
Sheldon let out a long sigh of relief. "That's wonderful!"
Leonard was still uneasy. "That's the good news. What's the bad news?"
Ethan spread his hands, his tone serious. "The bad news is—Leonard, if you want to pursue Penny, you're going to have to try very, very hard."
"What do you mean?" Leonard frowned. "Is she disappointed in me because of this whole incident?"
Ethan didn't answer, merely patting his shoulder with a knowing look.
Sheldon chimed in from the side, "I don't think that counts as bad news. That has always been an obvious fact."
"Thanks for the encouragement," Leonard sighed.
By the time Ethan finished showering and changed clothes, the living room was empty.
However, the door to Penny's apartment across the hall was open.
He walked over and saw the floor covered in a chaotic pile of wooden boards, screws, cardboard boxes, and instruction manuals.
Howard, Rajesh, Leonard, and Sheldon were all present, forming a tight circle of academic discussion.
"What happened now?" Ethan asked, leaning against the door frame.
"They are planning to convert the cheap TV stand I just bought into a NASA space shuttle and launch it to Mars," Penny said, exasperated.
"I wish I could say I was exaggerating," she added, "but I'm really not."
Ethan suppressed a laugh, stepping around the pile of packaging boxes.
"Hey, need a hand?" he asked.
"Ethan, you're just a medical doctor!" Howard immediately countered. "This is the temple of engineering. I'm the professional here!"
He gestured with a screwdriver as he spoke. "What concerns me is the sheer lack of imagination in this design. No wonder Sweden produces IKEA instead of SpaceX."
Penny couldn't help but interject, "But it looked pretty nice in the store."
No one paid attention to her. The four geeks were already deep in a technical frenzy.
"This structure wastes space."
"We could fit a speaker module."
"How would we control it?"
"Infrared adapter, but we have to consider heat dissipation."
"What about liquid coolant? Using PVC pipes!"
Penny blinked, clearly lost. "I just wanted a place to put my TV..."
"Silence! Science is in progress!" Sheldon raised his hand solemnly.
Talking over one another, they actually managed to hash out a viable plan.
A few minutes later, the four simultaneously shouted "Perfect!" and enthusiastically high-fived.
Then, they excitedly rushed out the door in a frenzy.
The air fell silent.
Penny stared at the pile of "parts," her mouth twitching.
"They were... helping me?"
"They genuinely are helping you," Ethan chuckled. "It's just that their method is... a bit abstract."
"Okay." Penny looked up at him. "So you'll help me put it together, right?"
"Of course."
Ethan followed the instructions, assembling the TV stand step by step.
At the very same moment, in an old house more than two thousand kilometers away, the air was thick enough to freeze.
The dining room light was harsh, reflecting different expressions on everyone's faces.
Skyler White, holding the "talking pillow," was the first to speak:
"I really want to understand where you're coming from, Walter.
But clearly, I don't understand.
This decision you've made isn't just unhelpful to you; it's destroying our whole family."
Walter White opened his mouth, but she immediately cut him off.
"The talking pillow is with me now," she said, holding up the fabric cushion. "Everyone gets to share their feelings. Remember? Now it's Hank's turn."
Hank hesitantly took the pillow, his voice tinged with forced optimism. "Listen, buddy, I know what I say might not carry much weight, but—I care about you. Very, very much. This cancer, we face it bravely."
He forced a smile. "I went from having nothing to having this great life now. See? Luck changes. The key is to stay strong and have hope."
Marie frowned from the side. "Hank, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?"
"Marie," Skyler said sternly, "let him talk. We are here to communicate."
Hank cleared his throat awkwardly and continued, "You know, this is like playing a nine-inning baseball game. The bases are loaded, it's your turn to bat, but your arm is shot. You might not hit a home run—but you have to finish the game with dignity. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Walter's answer was blunt: "No."
The air momentarily froze.
Skyler handed the pillow to her son.
"Walter Jr., tell us what you think."
Walter Jr.'s hands were clenched into fists. "You look like a coward. You're just giving up, aren't you?
I've gone through so much, and you're afraid of some simple chemotherapy? What if you give up on me too?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Skyler's eyes welled up.
Marie said quietly, "I'd like to say something."
She took the pillow, her voice calm. "I understand Skyler's concerns, but I also believe—this has to be Walter's decision. After all, he is the one suffering, not us. We can't live for him, and we can't die for him."
Skyler's eyes widened. "Marie, are you taking his side?"
Marie shook her head. "I'm not taking sides. I'm just at the hospital every day, and I see patients going through treatment, and some of them are truly miserable.
I see them swallowing pills, losing their hair, losing their dignity, just to hang on for a few more months—their families always call it 'love,' but sometimes, it's just 'not letting go.'
I think maybe Walter doesn't want that for himself."
"If he doesn't get treatment," Skyler shouted, "he won't have a future."
Hank: "Can I have the talking pillow back? I agree with Marie."
Marie: "Maybe he just wants the time he has left to truly belong to him. We can disagree, but we have to respect that."
The voices grew louder, everyone insisting on their own perspective.
Until Walter reached out and pressed down on the pillow.
"Ladies, stop fighting," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "I have the talking pillow now."
Everyone fell silent.
Walter looked around at them and slowly began to speak:
"I know we all deeply love each other.
You want what's best for me, and I am grateful.
But what I want is a choice."
He paused for a moment, as if gathering his courage.
"Sometimes I feel like I've never truly lived for myself.
It seems like every decision in my life has been made by someone else.
Now the last opportunity has arrived.
Cancer. The only choice I get to make now is how I face it."
Skyler choked up. "Then make the right choice. You're not the only person who has cancer. What about your son? Don't you want to see your daughter grow up?"
Walter replied softly, "Of course I do.
But you've seen the statistics.
The doctors only care about how long I can live—one year, or two.
But what kind of living is that? Just existing?
If I'm too sick to work, too sick to enjoy food, too sick to make love, forced to swallow forty pills a day, losing my hair, nauseous, and bedridden—is that still living?
I don't want you to remember me that way.
I want to spend my final days in my own home, in my own bed."
He let out a long sigh. "Skyler, I'm sorry. I choose—to let nature take its course."
Silence enveloped the room.
Only the ticking of the clock echoed.
The morning sunlight filtered gently through the gap in the curtains, scattering across the bedroom.
Walter woke up in bed, catching the scent of frying eggs from the kitchen.
He put on his coat and walked into the kitchen.
Skyler was wearing an apron, flipping eggs while checking bills. The light hitting her profile made her look focused and exhausted.
Walter walked in, his hair messy, his expression much softer than it had been the night before.
He stood silently for a moment, watching her busy back—
"Alright," he said, wrapping his arms around Skyler from behind.
"Alright what?" Skyler turned around.
"I'll accept the treatment." She froze for a few seconds, then gently put down the spatula, turned, and hugged him tightly.
Walter patted her back. "It's going to be okay."