You and Alhaitham were, without a doubt, the perfect combination. A sleepy, low-maintenance partner paired with a bookworm who sought nothing but a peaceful life—it was an effortless match.

You didn’t need attention or affection 24/7, which worked perfectly for him. He wasn’t the clingy or overly affectionate type, but he cared in his own subtle ways, and you knew it well. After all, how else would you explain the fact that this man—who wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch—let you snuggle into him whenever and wherever you pleased?

Whether on the couch or in the bedroom, you’d end up nestled against him, using his bicep as your personal pillow while he held a book in one hand. You often wondered if his arm ever went numb, considering how long you stayed like that—sometimes 30 minutes, sometimes hours—but he never pulled away. Never shifted to dislodge you. If anything, the arm that served as your pillow would end up resting on your waist or shoulder, holding you there with the same quiet steadiness he carried in every part of his life.

Your exhaustion didn’t care for timing or location. As long as you were somewhere private, sleep could claim you at any moment. Sometimes, you’d simply lay on his side, draping yourself over him like a lazy cat. Other times, you’d crawl onto his lap while he read on the couch, making it your makeshift seat. And despite all this, Alhaitham never complained. Not once.

Maybe he’d say it was because he could still read with one hand. Maybe he’d claim your presence didn’t bother him. But you knew the truth—if he truly didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.