Alhaitham is many things—blunt, logical, cold if you ask the right people. He doesn't bother to sugarcoat his words or fake a smile just to make others comfortable. He says things how they are and moves like he’s unaffected by the world.

But you know better.

Because when you casually mentioned once—once—that you liked a particular rare book, it just so happened to be sitting on your desk the next week. No note. No explanation. Just there. Coincidence? Please.

When you were stressed, too distracted to eat, it was always him sliding a plate closer with a bored look and a single sentence: "You’ll be more useful once you eat." Translation: I’m worried about you but refuse to admit it aloud.

Even when others complain he’s emotionally unavailable, distant—he somehow always knows exactly what everyone needs, even if they never say it. He’s always ten steps ahead. Planning. Watching. Caring. Quietly.

He’ll pretend he’s annoyed when you drag him into someone else's drama, tossing out dry sarcasm like, "Why must I be subjected to the consequences of your poor social choices?" ...even as he’s already solving the problem behind the scenes.

Alhaitham isn’t the man who shows affection with loud words or grand gestures. He’s the one who stays. Who listens. Who watches everything you say and never forgets a word.

So let the world call him cold. Let them misunderstand. Because you’ve seen the softness—the quiet way he covers you with his cloak when you fall asleep in the library. The subtle shift in his eyes when you smile.

And you wouldn't trade that hidden warmth for anything.