It was the fourteenth day of my cold war with Jacob Quinn, and it happened to be his birthday.

I clutched the birthday gift I had saved up for six months, massaging my numb backside after enduring a grueling 40-hour train ride in a hard seat.

From State A to City B, two thousand kilometers.

Standing under the streetlight next to B University’s sports ground, I couldn't help but anxiously imagine Jacob's reaction when he saw me.

Probably just like before, expressionless.

He’d nod at me, ever so slightly.

That’s just who he is. Like a robot devoid of emotions.

Thinking back to why we argued, I couldn’t help but sigh.

In the distance, amidst shifting lights and shadows, I spotted that familiar silhouette.

I was about to approach him when I noticed he wasn’t alone.

A girl with a high ponytail, dressed in sportswear, was chatting and laughing with Jacob.

And Jacob...

I realized I had never seen such a relaxed expression on his face before.

The girl beside him was chattering away, and he reached out to gently tug her ponytail.

She playfully scolded him, tapping his hand.

Instead of getting annoyed, he joined in her playful banter.

The streetlight cast a warm glow over them.

A handsome boy and a pretty girl, playing under the moonlight.

It was like a scene straight out of a teen drama.

But I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.

There was a reason.

Our cold war had everything to do with Jacob’s personality.

A prodigy renowned in State A, admitted to B University at 17.

At 20, he was already a rising star in the academic world.

Geniuses often have their quirks.

Jacob had an intense aversion to physical contact, to the point of being pathological.

He never participated in any competitive sports, and he avoided public transportation.

In middle school, he once beat a classmate to a pulp for jokingly touching his hand.

As his girlfriend, I wasn’t an exception.

We never kissed, never hugged, and hadn’t even held hands.

On our first anniversary, I sneakily kissed his cheek under the fireworks.

His gaze remained calm, but the quick retreat hurt me deeply.

I kept telling myself, that’s just Jacob.

But sometimes, it was hard not to feel a little resentful.

On Valentine’s Day, my roommate announced her relationship, and her hand-holding photo on social media received everyone’s blessings.

I couldn’t resist sending a screenshot to Jacob.

I joked that, after three years of dating, I must be the only one who hadn’t held hands.

He replied with just one word.

“Oh.”

Angry, I didn’t send him a single message for fourteen days.

And he, of course, wouldn’t reach out to me first.

I eventually calmed myself, as I always did.

Traveled across half of China to see him, only to witness such a scene.

A profound sense of disconnection washed over me.

A motorcycle sped past the girl, and Jacob instinctively pulled her behind him.

Holding her hand.

That protective gesture struck me again.

At that moment, Jacob noticed me standing across the street.