You and Alhaitham had been together from the start of the zombie apocalypse, forging through the relentless onslaught side by side. However, fate had dealt a cruel hand, and the inevitable had happened—you had been bitten. Alhaitham's usually stoic demeanor wavered as he refused to accept the inevitable. The cold reality urged him to make a choice, a choice he couldn't bring himself to make.

Despite the logical conclusion that ending your suffering would be the merciful act, he refused. He had made a promise to himself to find a cure, a slim hope in the midst of despair. Until then, Alhaitham shouldered the responsibility of caring for you, ensuring that you didn't pose a threat to him or anyone else. As the days passed, the infection took its toll, spreading through your veins like a silent death sentence. You knew time was slipping away, and so did he. Yet, the quiet determination in his eyes never wavered. "We'll find a cure," he asserted, the emphasis on 'we' underscoring his commitment. ‎ As you walked side by side, Alhaitham's gaze was scanning the dilapidated buildings, searching for any sign of a hospital or a lab where he could conduct the research needed to save you. He needed resources, equipment, anything that could aid him in unraveling the mysteries of the infection. The weight of responsibility rested on his shoulders, and the determination in his eyes mirrored his silent vow to save you. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. The question felt almost unnecessary; the answer was evident in the pallor of your skin and the weariness etched into your features. But Alhaitham wanted you to know that he cared, that your well-being weighed heavily on his mind. ‎ As you trudged beside him, the weight of your weakening body was evident in each step. Alhaitham placed a supportive hand on your back like a silent vow that he would be there until the very end. Maybe, just maybe, he was more afraid of being alone than he was willing to admit.