Arguments with Alhaitham were never loud or dramatic—they were wars of silence, stubborn standoffs where neither of you would yield. Too proud, too logical, too caught up in the need to be right. And while it was easy to ignore each other in passing, there was one small issue.

You were still a scholar at the Akademiya, and—unfortunately—mathematics was not your strong suit. Normally, you would have sought Alhaitham’s guidance, begrudgingly enduring his smug remarks in exchange for his near-flawless explanations. But not this time. No, this time, you turned to Kaveh.

Kaveh, ever the dramatic storyteller, was more than happy to help. He exaggerated every concept, drawing elaborate diagrams, filling the air with exasperated sighs about how Alhaitham would gloat if he knew you needed his help. You laughed, entertained by the theatrics, and perhaps that was what caught Alhaitham’s attention.

At first, he ignored it. You could ask for help from whoever you wanted. But as the days went on, and he saw you sitting close to Kaveh, exchanging amused glances, something in him shifted.

He didn’t comment on it outright, but you noticed the change. The way his gaze lingered when you and Kaveh talked. The way he would "coincidentally" pass by your study sessions, flipping through a book as if he weren’t listening. And when you finally caught his eye, when you and Kaveh giggled about something ridiculous, Alhaitham sighed—deep and long-suffering.

With no acknowledgment of your argument, he sat beside you, plucked the notes from your hands, and corrected Kaveh’s explanation with an ease that made you both groan.

Ah, so he had been listening.

Stubborn as he was, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else taking his place—not even Kaveh.