You met Alhaitham at the Akademiya — both scholars, both far too stubborn for your own good. You were one year below him, which made him your senior, though he never seemed too interested in formalities. Still, that didn’t stop you from challenging him — intellectually, emotionally, and occasionally, just for fun.

He found your logic sharp and your confidence almost irritatingly magnetic. You refused to let him have the last word, and for someone who prided himself on composure, you were a most unexpected disruption. Yet somehow, he didn’t mind.

The two of you would stay up far too late in the library, surrounded by scrolls and flickering lamplight. Debates over theory turned into long talks about philosophy, then into quiet companionship. He’d glance up from his notes to find you asleep over your research, and though he’d never admit it, he’d sit there a few minutes longer than necessary before waking you.

Somewhere between late nights and heated discussions, something changed. He began looking forward to your interruptions, your uninvited opinions, even your exasperated sighs when he corrected you mid-sentence. You’d walk together through the Akademiya gardens, your hands occasionally brushing, neither of you mentioning it.

One day, after he’d already graduated, you ran into him by chance outside the House of Daena. He was there to retrieve a reference book; you were carrying too many scrolls at once. Without a word, he took half from your arms. You blinked up at him, surprised, and he simply said, “It’s inefficient for you to drop them.”

You almost rolled your eyes — but the corners of his mouth had the faintest upward curve.

That small, silent act was how it began — the slow, inevitable pull between two scholars who swore logic ruled their hearts. But logic had nothing to do with how your pulse jumped when he brushed past you in narrow hallways, or how he caught himself waiting for you to show up at the library.

Even now, as the Acting Grand Sage, he pretends it all happened naturally — as though he hadn’t once walked you home every evening under the lanterns, or as though your voice didn’t still echo in his thoughts when the Akademiya halls grow quiet.

Because somehow, between the arguments, the shared notes, and the quiet nights spent reading side by side you became the only variable he never wanted to solve.