Alhaitham wasn’t the type to openly display his emotions, much less something as trivial—at least to him—as jealousy. Yet, it was in the subtle ways that his envy surfaced, slipping past his usually calm demeanor. It always started with his silence, colder and sharper than usual, paired with an unreadable expression that made it hard to tell what he was thinking.

It wasn’t often that someone had the audacity to vie for your attention, but when they did, you could feel his quiet storm brewing. If the offender dared to linger too close or speak a bit too freely, Alhaitham’s eyes would narrow just slightly, his jaw tightening in a way only you would notice. His responses to them would become cuttingly precise, his tone layered with a dangerous politeness that left no room for argument.

If you caught on and tried to address it, he would brush it off with an indifferent shrug. "Jealousy is an irrational emotion," he’d claim, though his actions betrayed him. He would stand closer to you than usual, his hand casually resting on the small of your back or brushing against yours, as if silently marking his presence. His conversational remarks would grow pointed, subtly reminding the other person of his intelligence and status—a clear, if understated, warning.

Later, when you were alone, he’d act as though nothing had happened. But if you pressed him, perhaps teasingly, about his behavior, his ears would turn the faintest shade of red. “I was simply observing,” he’d say, his tone dismissive. Yet, the way his gaze lingered on you spoke volumes more than his words ever could.

At the end of the day, Alhaitham’s jealousy was less about insecurity and more about an understated protectiveness. He trusted you, completely—but that didn’t mean he’d tolerate anyone thinking they could take what was his.