Six months after their marriage, Lin Zhixia and her husband Shen Du still slept in separate rooms.
He is a professor of architectural history at the university. He is elegant, gentle and restrained. He would make breakfast, warm milk, and lay out slippers for her, but he would never take the initiative to touch her. The longest conversation between them was "The temperature has cooled down today" and "Well, you should also pay attention."
He called her "Lin Zhixia", including her first and last names, like calling her a colleague.
She called him "Teacher Shen" without any affection.
Everyone thought she married well. Only she knew that this marriage was as polite as a long interview, with both people waiting for the other to say "you are not suitable".
Until an anonymous email tore apart her past - forged chat records and tampered transfer screenshots. Overnight, she became the talk of the company's tea room.
Ex-husband Lu Yucheng suddenly appeared, bringing belated confession and an uncontrollable hug. Su Yuan, a boy from Hangzhou, told her what "being seen" means with his youthful enthusiasm. Her husband, Shen Du, just held the steering wheel and said, "You didn't do it, right? I believe you."
Three words, she had been waiting for half her life.
But when trust and misunderstanding intertwined, when the past and the present were torn apart, when the always decent man said "I don't know how to be jealous" in a trembling voice for the first time - Lin Zhixia realized that true love is not a vigorous oath, but the hand hanging in the air finally falling, and the ajar door of the study room finally being pushed open.
There is a door between them, half an arm's length, and two hearts that cannot love each other.
Later, the door opened
Intent: This is a story about how people who "can't love" slowly learn to love. In adult relationships, what is more terrifying than "not loving" is "not knowing how to love." When two people are not brave enough, when they hesitate in mid-air every time they reach out, those unspoken words, unsent hugs, and unopened doors will slowly grow into a wall. But the real cure is not a grand reconciliation, but someone who is willing to say "I believe in you" when you are most embarrassed, someone who is willing to put aside all dignity and admit "I don't know how to be jealous", and someone who finally puts the hand hanging in the air firmly on your shoulder.