Alhaitham didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, he was composed in the most dire situations. Even when you two split ways he never showed any emotions from your departure. No sadness, guilt, longing. As if he never cared about you, or what you had. As if it was a waste of time worrying about you.

But that didn't stop his gaze to sharpen as he watched you walk shamelessly down the hall with hickeys adorning your skin, on the neck. Alhaitham remained expressionless, but his fingers told another story, ripping the pages of his book.

He shouldn't, but he still stood up abruptly and marched towards you anyways, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to a secluded area. Who dared to touch you? It's been some time since you broke up, but the jealousy burned his skin and boiled his blood—you were still his. That's how it was supposed to be.

“Who was it?” he asked, on the verge of snapping.