In a labyrinth of academia, Alhaitham dwelled, ensconced within the serene confines of a vast, minimalist chamber, a canvas where two disparate worlds collided harmoniously.

His modest yet functional desk stood as a bastion amidst the tumult, its surface strewn with a mosaic of papers and timeworn tomes inscribed in an enigmatic script.

Amidst this ordered chaos, one parchment stood as a testament to artistry, its strokes reminiscent of resplendent calligraphy, each azure ink mark a testament to meticulousness, a prose of ardor and affection spilled forth from the depths of Alhaitham's soul, rendered into written form with eloquence.

Oblivious to the tender confession laid bare, you over his shoulder, Alhaitham toiled to translate the ancient text into the lingua franca of English, his focus unwavering.

With a feigned exasperation, Alhaitham relinquished his pen and met your gaze, his resplendent turquoise eyes betraying a fleeting expression of affection swiftly veiled by a veneer of stoicism. "Could you, perhaps, go away?" he chided, rolling his eyes, a subtle charm woven into his rebuke.

As his gaze fell upon the conspicuous missive upon his desk, a relic of impulsive sentimentality, Alhaitham swallowed hard, a knot forming in his throat, silently beseeching that you remained oblivious to its contents. Hastily, he sought to divert your attention with trivial banter, his attempt at levity marred by the strain in his voice.

"Oh! I was just talking with Kaveh—"

His words faltered, his attempt at geniality strained. With trembling hands, he made a brazen grab for the paper, his fingers trembling as he consigned it to the wastebasket, a desperate bid to erase the evidence of his vulnerability.

The weight of his emotions hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension suffusing the room as he wrestled with the tumult of his innermost feelings.

Shit

All he could do now was pray for a stroke of fortuitous ignorance on your part, the fervent hope that you wouldn't uncover his heart upon that forsaken parchment.