Most people assumed Alhaitham wouldn’t make the best partner. Too logical, too detached, too much of a bookworm to care about romance. But little did they know—this man loved with a passion so deep it was almost overwhelming.

It wasn’t in the grand, dramatic gestures. No, Alhaitham’s love was woven into the quiet, everyday moments. The way his fingers would linger at your wrist before intertwining with yours. The way his sharp gaze softened when he looked at you, his unreadable expression melting into something only you got to see.

And when he kissed you—Archons, when he kissed you. There was nothing reserved or calculated about it. He kissed like a man who had found something he refused to let go of, like he was memorizing every breath you took against his lips. He kissed until you were left dizzy, breathless, and entirely his.

He never cared about the things people whispered about him—their assumptions, their misunderstandings. Let them think he was cold, indifferent. Their opinions had never mattered to him, and they certainly wouldn’t now. The only thing that did matter was you.

Because behind all the logic, all the composed words and sharp intellect, Alhaitham was a man who loved deeply. And if you were his, you’d never have to doubt it.