Chapter 4

For the first week as Brett's study partner, things went surprisingly well.

Every evening during study time, he showed up at the library punctually, listening intently as I explained algorithm principles and sharing his unique athletic perspective.

Once, he used a basketball full-court press strategy to explain a complex distributed system problem, and for the first time, I found his perspective... fascinating. We even started developing some... chemistry?

But then, everything changed. I was notified I'd been selected for the National Programming Marathon, with only two weeks to prepare. As the computer science department's "coding goddess," I couldn't accept anything less than perfect results.

From that day on, I postponed all my appointments with Brett and buried myself completely in the world of code.

At 3 AM that night, I stared at the screen with bloodshot eyes, my fingers mechanically tapping on the keyboard. After working continuously for 72 hours, my body began to protest, but my brain refused to heed these warnings.

"Kelly, you haven't slept for three days."

Brett's voice interrupted my train of thought. I didn't look up, continuing to stare at that bizarre piece of code. He'd come again—these past few days he appeared every night, trying to convince me to rest.

"My algorithm still has bugs. I must find the optimal solution." My voice sounded like a rusty machine, so hoarse I barely recognized it myself.

I felt Brett move behind me. Previously this would have felt like an intrusion, but these two weeks together had made me develop a sort of... habit regarding his presence? No, perhaps more like an inexplicable sense of security.

"The competition is still a week away, you have time. If you keep this up, you'll collapse."

I spun around suddenly, exhaustion making my temper volatile: "Optimal solutions don't wait for anyone, Brett. You should understand this—it's like your pursuit of the perfect shot."

Brett looked at my swollen, red eyes, his expression growing concerned. Was it genuine concern? I was too exhausted to tell anymore.

"But you're going to break down like this."

"I can still hold on." I turned back to the screen, trying to block out his interference. "Please don't disturb me now."

But I could feel him still standing there, like a stubborn guardian, refusing to leave.

---

A week later, I stood on the presentation stage, facing a sea of people. I told myself everything was under control, but my body began to betray me.

"My algorithm employs an improved dynamic programming approach..." I began the demonstration, each word requiring all my strength to articulate clearly.

I could see Brett in the audience, his gaze focused and tense. These two weeks together had taught me that his nervousness was genuine worry for me.

"In terms of time complexity, we achieved..."

Suddenly, my world began to collapse. My vision became blurry, sounds distorted, and my body lost control.

My last conscious memory was feeling someone catch me, and a familiar voice desperately calling my name.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Brett's haggard face. He was sleeping slumped over the hospital bed, his hand tightly gripping mine. This scene left me stunned for several seconds—no one had ever stayed up all night for me, except roommates before exams.

"Brett?" I called softly.

He immediately woke up, the surprise and concern in his eyes warming my heart.

"You're awake! How do you feel?"

I looked at him weakly: "Why are you here? Don't you have important training? I remember you mentioning championship preparation tomorrow..."

Brett's expression became tender, a tenderness that made my heartbeat irregular.

"There are competitions every year, but you..." He paused, his voice choking slightly, "you're more important than any competition."

These words hit my heart like a punch. In my world, no one sacrificed their important affairs for someone else. This violated my understanding of human nature.

"You gave up championship preparation for me?" My voice was trembling, this reaction completely beyond my control.

Brett looked at me seriously: "Kelly, I know you used to think I wasn't serious enough, that I was just playing around. But this time is different... I genuinely care about you. When I saw you collapse, I realized how important you are to me."

I felt an unprecedented emotion flooding into my heart. This feeling of being unconditionally loved—I had never experienced it before. I'd always thought interpersonal relationships were based on value exchange, but Brett's actions completely overturned my understanding.

"Thank you, Brett." My voice trembled slightly, "I've never... been cared for like this before."

"You deserve to be cared for like this. You deserve to have someone give up everything for you."

His words made my tears break through. The rigid shell I'd built with rationality was crumbling.

"My competition..." I suddenly remembered.

"Your algorithm is already perfect enough. And your health is more important than any competition."

I turned to look at Brett, this boy who had accompanied me studying every day for two weeks, silently protecting me. His eyes held only concern for me and... love?

I suddenly realized that perhaps I'd been understanding love the wrong way all along. I'd treated it as a problem to be calculated, searching for the most compatible conditions and minimal risk. But maybe real love isn't a problem to be solved, but an experience to be felt.

"Brett..." I said softly.

"Yes?"

"I think I need to... reconsider my views on relationships."

Brett smiled, the kind of smile that completely disrupted my heartbeat.

"I'll wait for you to figure it out. No matter how long it takes."

Dawn was breaking outside the window, and I felt my entire worldview being reconstructed. This change wasn't due to an error, but because I'd discovered new possibilities.

Under Brett's warm gaze, I began to re-examine my emotional world. Perhaps perfect code was important, but having someone willing to give up their entire world for me—that value couldn't be measured.

I closed my eyes, letting this warm feeling spread through my heart. My rationality told me this was dangerous, that my life might spiral out of control due to this unknown change. But at this moment, I wanted to try trusting my heart for once.

"Brett?"

"I'm here."

"Next time, let's go watch your game together."

Brett's smile was as satisfying as solving a problem that had troubled me for ages: "Alright, I'll play the perfect game for you."

I smiled—this was the first time I'd smiled genuinely because of emotions rather than solving technical problems. Perhaps in life's complex game, love isn't an obstacle to be overcome, but a precious experience that makes the whole journey more complete.

I decided to give Brett a more important place in my life, to see what would happen.