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There was a time when Alhaitham heard of a popular belief amongst alumni, describing collaborative theses between scholars of different Darshans to be a marriage of their philosophies, as if it were a love letter to their shared wisdom and knowledge… as well as a love letter from one scholar to another.
At the time, Alhaitham paid no heed to this. As far as he was concerned, it was, at best, a memetic sentiment that was born from the hormones of stressed and repressed scholars to cope with the brutality of schoolwork. At worst, it was a flighty superstition that was never meant to be taken seriously, but remains as a tool of mockery amongst social circles within the Akademiya.
Kaveh shared the same idea but, to Alhaitham’s inconvenience, he had also found it ‘romantic’ and ‘endearing’. This, of course, led to Alhaitham firmly chiding that there was ‘no room for further discussion regarding the topic’, and it was ‘irrelevant to their project when there have been countless interdarshan collaborative projects where no such feelings had been harbored’, and finally, ‘stop wasting your time on such meaningless flights of fancy.’
Alhaitham then further scolded Kaveh when he thought that the latter was getting worked up for no reason, and why did he care so much anyway? He needed to care more about their project and no, his little musings did not count as relative topics for discussion.
It had sparked one of the many awkward bickering-turned-awkward arguments that appeared in the early stages of their project development, sowing seeds of hostility between the two geniuses that the other participants of the project fell victim to witnessing; some to their horror, others to their fascination.
Alhaitham isn’t sure why this specific memory had appeared in his mind now of all times. He and Kaveh had voiced much worse, much more hostile grievances to each other over the course of their project. He recognized that, perhaps, the lack of emotional resolution for many of these had contributed to the increasing strain of their friendship. But as first and foremost scholars, he believed that he and Kaveh’s mindsets were aligned in that the pursuit of knowledge was of far greater importance to them than whatever grievances they could settle after all the work was completed. They’ve gone through worse and come out stronger, haven’t they? It wasn’t a concern. It shouldn’t have been a concern.
Yet here Alhaitham stands alone in their appointed research center; his only companion, the torn shreds of what was once their thesis laying pitifully on the hardwood floor. Therein lies the marriage of their philosophies and ideals, their love letter to their shared wisdom and knowledge.
Their love letter from…
…It was jarring to think that Kaveh was shouting expletives in Alhaitham’s face and having stormed out not even a little over a minute ago. Was it a minute, or had it been longer?
It doesn’t matter. The silence left in his wake was all too deafening, all too overwhelming for Alhaitham to process coherently enough to keep proper track of time.
Once Alhaitham had regained his composure, he picked up the pieces of… Kaveh’s copy of their thesis, collecting them in a neat pile in his hands. The next sequence of events happen in a collective blur that Alhaitham can only recall whenever he lies awake at night: he takes the pieces to Kaveh’s house, shoves them in the mailbox, returns to the Akademiya to strike his name off of their thesis, and retires for the evening.
With no one left willing to participate in Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization, the joint project is filed away as incomplete, fated to collect dust within the forgotten shelves of the records room of the Akademiya.
Alhaitham wakes up the next day, feeling strangely non-refreshed, and goes to school as usual. Went to class as usual. Read books as usual. All alone, as usual.
When Alhaitham goes to Razan Garden to read in peace, as usual, even he was shocked to see Kaveh there so unexpectedly. Even less expected is Kaveh’s company, all of whom Alhaitham could only recognize in passing.
He clearly ended up staring too long, only coming to his senses when Kaveh incidentally turned in his direction and locked eyes with him.
Kaveh’s expression full of bittersweet ruefulness is forever burned into Alhaitham’s memory as he hurried to exit the scene.
+
Alhaitham has taken up writing his own papers as of late. This is not to say that he had not been in all of his time in the Akademiya. Perhaps it is more correct to say that Alhaitham has taken up writing his own papers with an obsessive fervor that no one has ever seen from him before. So says the rumor mill within the Akademiya, in any case.
To an outsider looking in, the idea of a student suddenly becoming more studious as he approaches his last few years in the Akademiya is nothing out of the ordinary. But Alhaitham is no ordinary student writing ordinary papers in ordinary circumstances. This is one of the top geniuses and notorious loner in the Akademiya, writing critiques and analyses upon critiques-and-analyses, in complete opposition to the writings of none other than the Light of the Kshahrewar, motivated by what seemed to be an academic vendetta against him depending on which local one asked.
To describe their heated debates and passive-aggressive dialogues with each other (that were, for some reason, always made aware to the greater mind of the public even when no one had asked) would be a labor arduous enough to be worth five different theses on their own.
So, for the sake of simplicity, it was widely agreed amongst any who knew of their rivalry that it must have been a really bad breakup.
Some have made theoretical statements, in jest, that it must have been of catastrophic levels comparable to the Great Cataclysm of Dahri 500 years ago. Some have made the same theoretical statements, not in jest and in dead seriousness.
And what do they know? What does anyone know of what Alhaitham had with Kaveh? If they were so bold as to gossip about such nonsense in public for anyone to hear, then they should have done something about it.
They cannot, and Alhaitham knew this, because the only one who could truly understand Kaveh and his ramblings was Alhaitham and Alhaitham alone.
This is simply an objective fact; Kaveh, though truly a brilliant mind the likes of which hasn’t been seen in Kshahrewar since Pir Kavikavus, stands upon a pedestal that most cannot reach. His words, his actions, his wisdom—every thought behind them can only be understood as the typical eccentricities of a genius by the people who cannot compare to him. It is only Alhaitham who can match his insanity, and therefore only he is capable enough to stand in opposition to Kaveh.
It is only right that Kaveh, an architect without peer, can and must only be opposed by Alhaitham until some other so-called genius dared to speak against him. Who is Alhaitham, as a scholar, were he not to fulfill this role in Kaveh’s life. Without him, Kaveh would spend the rest of his life in arrogance, believing himself to be truly alone in his brilliance and strutting around like he’s the only one who knows what the hell he’s talking about with anything. Meanwhile, everyone else merely smiles and nods as they are content with letting Kaveh break every bone in his body and bleed himself out dry in the name of wisdom that they will truly never grasp within their lifetime.
Yet Kaveh continues to debase himself, surrounding himself with his lessers and giving himself up to people who never deserved it, if only to satisfy his emotional needs as if Alhaitham wasn’t right there and—
What was he writing about again? God, honestly, who cares. Alhaitham doesn't, for sure.
—And if Alhaitham needed to chase down every piece of paper that so much as had Kaveh’s name written on it to get through to Kaveh, so be it.
In the darkest corners of the House of Daena, too dark to witness any activity, Alhaitham shivers with undeniable gratification when he inevitably receives a response. Alhaitham drinks in every single drop of ink Kaveh etches onto the paper, smiling to himself at the thought that Kaveh just had to set aside an indeterminate amount of time, energy, and possibly sleep just to write back to him. He feels no shame in stooping so low to get Kaveh’s attention, and therefore rationalizes that he is doing nothing wrong. Alhaitham is simply an ordinary student writing ordinary papers in ordinary circumstances, becoming more studious as he approaches his last few years in the Akademiya.
When he sees Kaveh’s name below his own, vindication always rings so sweetly in Alhaitham’s ears.
++
The day of Alhaitham’s graduation should have been an uneventful one. In the grander scheme of things, it was quite uneventful.
It is not a day Alhaitham could forget, however unremarkable it mostly was, all because the moment he got his diploma, he caught a flash of golden hair in his peripheral vision, which was more than enough reason for Alhaitham to abandon the graduation ceremony held for his batch.
Giving chase to this possible visual hallucination was of utmost importance to Alhaitham, because it all too resembled the brilliant mane of one Kaveh, Light of the Kshahrewar, of whom Alhaitham hasn’t heard about as of late.
All Alhaitham knows is that Kaveh has devoted all of his time to a gigantic project sponsored by none other than the scrupulous Lord Sangemah Bay.
Said project has taken all of Kaveh’s time away from publishing his own papers, meaning that Alhaitham could no longer insert himself into Kaveh’s narrative whenever he pleased. This has left Alhaitham completely bored out of his mind in his last days as a student, as well as a reserved seat as the next Scribe of the Akademiya for all of his efforts.
Kaveh may be clever enough to take flight to places where most ordinary people cannot follow, but Alhaitham is not like most ordinary people. Kaveh, of all people, should know that Alhaitham had eyes like a hawk and it didn't take long for him to spy a glimpse of his cape tails as it trailed behind him like burning plumage. Just when Alhaitham thought he had caught up, he had stopped in his tracks at the top of the slope that led to Treasures Street. The market itself is rife with hustle and bustle, flooded with potential customers—visiting family and friends of students alike—at the height of graduation season.
Even as his vision began to shake and the crowd blurred all together, Alhaitham shouted out to the crowd even as those passing by gave him strange looks.
"Kaveh!" he cried out desperately. "Ka—Ugh… Kaveh!"
He strained his voice as he continued to call out to him, making him gasp for air. He wanted to call out one more time, until Kaveh incidentally turned in his direction and locked eyes with him.
Kaveh’s expression full of bittersweet ruefulness is forever burned into Alhaitham’s memory, as he hurried to exit the scene.
There alone Alhaitham stood, wondering if what he saw was real or not.
It doesn’t matter; this was a loss from the start. Whether or not Kaveh was really there or merely an apparition born of all of his stress from graduation now hitting him all at once, Alhaitham had no time nor energy to navigate through an overwhelming crowd of people he has no control over.
Kaveh, of all people, should know that Alhaitham doesn't do well with crowds, let alone the sensory overload that comes with them. It must be reiterated once again that Kaveh is clever enough to take flight to places where most ordinary people cannot follow.
Alhaitham now included.
Hadn't Kaveh had enough of playing games with Alhaitham? What was the point of appearing on his graduation day if he still insisted on not talking to him? How much longer is Alhaitham supposed to endure his absence until he comes to his senses?
Or was Kaveh even there at all? Had Alhaitham finally lost his mind and embody his epithet as the lunatic of the Akademiya?
Alhaitham continued to stare into the patches of sunlight where the ghost of Kaveh once stood until it burned his eyes. Even if it was a mere apparition of his mind, he wanted to see it again.
And yet, only shadows of his past remained.
Alhaitham turned away from them.
+++
In the research center allocated to him by the Akademiya, Alhaitham spends another night suffering through another bout of insomnia.
In the earlier stages of this affliction, Alhaitham merely spent this time catching up on a backlog of books until he was too exhausted to continue reading. So it was a common occurrence for Alhaitham to pass out in random places around the house instead of his bed, since those places were better for reading, and the bed was better for all of your personal demons to come out and plague your mind until the chicken crowed.
But his increasing fatigue has led to less productivity at work, which has led to him bringing his work home, which has led to increasing stress levels, which has led to more insomnia. Ad nauseam.
Alhaitham is a simple man. He works, he eats, he cleans; if only he could sleep. Household chores aren’t very time consuming because Alhaitham hasn’t bothered to decorate beyond the furnishings that were already there when he took ownership of the house. It looks ready for an open tour for a prospective real estate buyer.
The only place that can truly be called a part of Alhaitham’s home is the study, where he is surrounded by all the books he used to share with his late grandmother. Even when he tires of reading, Alhaitham finds comfort in this small space that belongs to him and him only.
Alhaitham had once hypothesized that taking his work to a place that inherently puts his mind at ease would alleviate the symptoms he was plagued with, even if it did little to cure him of his affliction. This backfired; instead, looking at the pile of paperwork he had to do in a place so sacred to him gave Alhaitham a sense of his privacy being violated. It was as if he was ruining the last thing he held dear to him with an obligation he felt forced to prioritize at the expense of his own self-interests. It took all of his strength not to tear every single piece of paper apart as he quickly moved them out to the living room.
As he cleaned up the last of his work, Alhaitham quickly resorted to lazier measures by sorting what needed to be done by the deadline and what he could probably get an ‘extension’ for, should he happen to ‘lose’ it in the trash.
It was in this way that Alhaitham had happened upon a thesis topic application form that seemed too worn out to have been anything submitted recently. Upon further examination, Alhaitham was shocked to see his own handwriting staring back at him—therein lied his own name printed and signed, the proposed subject title of Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization, stamped with the approval of advisors from both Haravatat and Kshahrewar.
Alhaitham doubled back to the study and realized that the whole place was a mess of papers and books strewn about from the very beginning.
His mind brings him back to that very fateful night; Alhaitham at his wit’s end as Kaveh returns from the desert as if he didn’t just have a near-death experience saving the last two spineless cowards that just dropped out from their project.
Every day on that project, Alhaitham had to watch as his only friend broke every bone in his body and bleed himself out dry for people who never deserved his kindness, and there was nothing Alhaitham could do to shake the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that had overcome him then. It reminded him all too well of how he could do nothing while his grandmother withered away in her final days. Even back then, he had wondered if all brilliant minds of Kshahrewar were all doomed to shine bright like the sun right before their flame flickered and died.
That night was most likely the loudest that Alhaitham had vocalized himself, as he shook the shoulders of his senior, demanding answers out of him that he wouldn’t have wanted to hear anyway. Every built up resentment and grievance that was filed away had been thrown at each other’s faces, every word spoken and every phrase constructed with the specific purpose of hurting the other as practicing patience had no longer been viable.
In his attempt to get through to Kaveh and bring him to his senses, Alhaitham became yet another person who had hurt him, believing in his arrogance that he knew better.
Alhaitham then entertains the idea of being wrong—not in the sense that what he had said to Kaveh was wrong, but if he had just done the complete opposite. Had Alhaitham simply swallowed all of his frustrations and tried to comfort Kaveh, who was surely still in a state of shock from a near-death experience in the desert, would they have been able to weather the storm of their built-up resentment and come out stronger? Had Alhaitham practiced more patience with Kaveh, would he have gotten what he wanted without any expense to himself? Had Alhaitham not come to know Kaveh so intimately then—about his life, his aspirations, his dreams and ideals—would he not have been so deeply cut by Kaveh's declaration of wishing they had never met?
Would it really have been better, had Alhaitham not chosen to continue engaging with the boy who'd approached him in the House of Daena that day?
Yet despite taking all of that in consideration, Alhaitham wouldn't have done anything different—rather, he would have been incapable of doing anything else.
Every word had been spoken to reflect the harsh reality that Alhaitham witnessed Kaveh put himself through, and Alhaitham believed that they weren’t wrong, as they were words spoken from the bottom of his heart. Yet Alhaitham still made every mistake and did wrong by Kaveh, correctness costing him everything that they had with each other—being correct meant nothing to him in the end.
Alhaitham swallows down the bile rising in his throat and shuts his eyes tight, hoping there won't be another night like this one, though he knows there will be. He retires for the evening, taking with him the old piece of paper that was once the beginning of what he could have had. He lays cold and alone in the bed he's made, mourning someone that was never his to lose, clutching the only piece of him he had left.
++++
Things have been peaceful for Alhaitham.
He had begun exercising. He started going on morning jogs before work to start improving his health, and if nothing else, to help clear his mind from the sleepless night before. It had worked so amazingly well that he had slowly made time to exercise when he got home as well.
While he had always agreed that a healthy body equated to a healthy mind, Alhaitham had never felt that he had to put it into much practice until now. After all, it was no understatement that his mind was able to reach a higher ceiling of learning than most of his peers, so he had always figured that his body must have been healthy enough being as smart as he was. Now that he was older and wiser, Alhaitham had begun to realize that the proverb referred more to the phenomenon of how physical activity encouraged an energized mindset, which in turn made him more productive during the day without leaving him so tired by the time he got home. He wondered how he even managed to survive his student years in the Akademiya.
On weekends whenever he is able to, he stops by the Citadel of Regzar to join the Corps of Thirty stationed there in sparring. After an unfortunate altercation while on an expedition in the desert with a few other Mahamata, Alhaitham saw that it really was just more convenient to improve his own combat ability than rely on minimum wage bodyguards.
Because he now wakes up earlier in the day to exercise, Alhaitham stopped by Puspa Cafe to pick up coffee to keep himself energized throughout the day. He didn’t really care if it made him late a few times, but it had become inconvenient to go down to the cafe, only to double back uphill to the Akademiya. So Alhaitham began learning how to brew his own coffee.
When Alhaitham first drank his pot of homemade coffee, he was too disgusted to continue before he started to look into the finer details of coffee-making. The quality of beans, how they're roasted affect the taste and texture, the different smells each variation could have, etc., etc. Alhaitham became a full-fledged coffee connoisseur who is all too picky with how his coffee is made now, to the point where his day is already half ruined if he had messed up at any point of his acquired process.
He's still on the hunt for a specific blend that he used to smell almost daily during his time as a student, and he can almost get the flavor right, yet not quite. It motivates him to do better on his coffee brewing.
Alhaitham relapsed into the bad habits he once had as a student, where he would skip out on meetings and shirk his responsibilities in an effort to prevent his previous burnout from happening again. He tells the sages that it helps increase his productivity, and they can’t complain when Alhaitham’s work (when he does them) is nothing short of perfect. A solid yet begrudging “Exceeds Expectations” in every area in every annual review so far.
As he steadily raised the quality of his life outside of work, Alhaitham started allowing himself to impulse buy random literature that catches his eye regardless of their perceived intellectual value. Some were not worth the purchase in spite of any high praise they could receive, while others have caught him by pleasant surprise like diamonds in the rough. Books that are of definite lower quality that he ends up enjoying are tucked away in a corner of his shelves designated solely for guilty pleasure reading.
In spite of his brain-dead job at the Akademiya, Alhaitham feels revitalized in his joy for learning and reading, to absorb knowledge as if it were his life’s purpose. The heavens seemed to agree, having gifted him a Vision in honor of his ambition.
When Alhaitham goes to Razan Garden to read in peace, he cannot help but see shadows of his past.
But just as he loves his grandmother’s books, he loves coming to this garden. Alhaitham concedes that the dreamlike aesthetic of the place does, in fact, add to its overall serenity, making it the perfect study getaway to give one a peace of mind. To whom Alhaitham concedes this point to is no longer present in his life, so he will continue to appreciate it in his stead.
Just as he could not let go of the research center where his heart was torn to shreds, he could not let go of the memories he held so dearly in this garden. But he would rather be hurt by reminders of what could have been than to forget about all that once was.
To deny that his heart had suffered in his life would render useless how his heart had grown fonder in the absence of his love ever since.
So Alhaitham continues to visit Razan Garden, all alone, as usual—so that he may never forget, and so that he may lay his heart to rest.
+++++
The Palace of Alcazarzaray is the latest and greatest hot topic across the nation of Sumeru.
It is a remarkable achievement by the architect who designed it; the mansion quite literally seems to be made out of dreams, and it has created a new wave of tourism that Lord Sangemah Bay is all too willing to capitalize on. It has become a permanent landmark within the nation—a monumental achievement that has undoubtedly immortalized the architect’s name for ages to come.
History will look back on this palace of palaces as the greatest masterpiece of Kaveh, Light of the Kshahrewar.
It would be a lie to say that Alhaitham does not have any complicated feelings on the matter. He is truly happy for Kaveh, and Kaveh deserves every ounce of praise for it; by leaving Alhaitham in pursuit of his ideals, Kaveh had spread his wings and painted the sky in a rainbow of colors with his burning plumage.
It was clear to Alhaitham that he had only held Kaveh back from reaching his full potential, and the Palace of Alcazarzaray was Kaveh’s answer to the silence that he had left behind in his wake all those years ago. Alhaitham could look upon Kaveh fonder than he did before, now that they were further apart.
But it was almost impossible to escape talk of Kaveh and his magnum opus at the Akademiya, and for those who used to know of Alhaitham’s dealings with Kaveh when they were students, Alhaitham had to suffer through these people bringing him up around him in every unsubtle way they could. Soon enough, he had run out of apathetic grunts and non-committal hums to get them off his back, which meant that he had run out of excuses not to go see Kaveh.
Kaveh had been seen frequenting Lambad’s Tavern since the Palace had finished construction. He knew that if he went there, he would inevitably run into Kaveh, and Alhaitham doesn’t trust himself to keep his composure after all this time. He needed to approach this carefully.
Before arriving at the tavern, Alhaitham told himself that it should be easy enough to stroll in, buy him some congratulatory drinks, and maybe bury the hatchet after everything they’ve been through.
Maybe (not) tell him that he’s missed him too.
He ran through every scenario and practiced every script in his head just to mentally prepare himself. Above all, Alhaitham didn’t want to end the night with everything between them even worse than they were before, if it could get any worse. Alhaitham was resolved to walk away knowing that Kaveh would lead a better life without him.
When Alhaitham arrived at the tavern, looking upon Kaveh’s crestfallen form, he felt his mind return to the night they had parted ways.
Tucked away in the darkest corner of the tavern’s second floor, Kaveh, to put it crudely, had looked half-dead as he nursed what seemed to be his second bottle for the night. The light had gone out from his eyes, their bright carmine color now dulled to a rusted red. Even when veiled in the pale moonlight from the window, one could see the emaciated pallor of his once fair skin and the dishevelment of his dirty blond hair. For Kaveh’s part, he stowed himself away in the darkest corner of the tavern tonight, too dark for anyone to witness just how much he had let himself go.
Alhaitham could only wonder what had happened.
He clearly ended up staring too long, only coming to his senses when Kaveh incidentally turned in his direction and locked eyes with him.
Kaveh’s face goes through a myriad of emotions before settling on simple resignation, an expression that does not at all match that of Alhaitham’s memory.
“Come to say you told me so, have you?” Kaveh croaks out, pointedly looking anywhere else but Alhaitham now.
Alhaitham takes a minute to take a deep breath and school the expression on his face, before taking the seat across where Kaveh is sitting. Kaveh grips his cup a little harder and narrows his eyes more, but otherwise does not react in a way that would give any sort of acknowledgement to Alhaitham’s presence.
“I would have thought that to be your line,” Alhaitham says in dull surprise, sensing the all too fragile tension between them. “The Palace of Alcazarzaray is a testament to all of your ideals, no?”
Kaveh laughs bitterly and does not answer. After another minute of pondering into his wine cup, he glares at Alhaitham. “Why are you here, Alhaitham? Surely it can’t be because you wanted to see me after all this time.”
Caught red-handed, Alhaitham tries to save face by grabbing one of the empty cups on the table (why were there so many?) and pouring himself some wine, to the utter bafflement and incredulousness of Kaveh himself.
“I came here for a drink,” Alhaitham says instead of the real answer. His nervous misdirection must have worked, given how quickly his senior scoffed at him in dismissal.
Soon enough, Kaveh goes back to nursing his drink and an uncomfortable silence hangs over them once more.
It gives Alhaitham another opportunity to give Kaveh another once-over, his withering form reminding the Scribe all too well of how Kaveh had returned from the desert at the end of their project.
He looked awful.
“Thanks,” Kaveh says sarcastically—Alhaitham hadn’t even realized that he said that out loud. “It’s the homelessness and debt.”
Alhaitham’s blood runs cold. “What?”
Kaveh looks out the window, acting as if nothing was said.
“You were right,” he finally tells him, the lump in his throat garbling his words. “When you told me, all those years ago, that my ideals would cost me everything—you were right.”
These words go quietly like dust particles in the air, as if Kaveh was speaking to the shadows of his past rather than the person who sat across from him. Alhaitham soon realizes that most everything Kaveh has said to him so far had been more said at him, not expecting any response nor wanting to acknowledge them.
Alhaitham takes a sip, swallowing the wine thick. He feels compelled to stand in opposition to Kaveh, as only he truly knows that Kaveh would never allow this side of him to be seen by the lessers he surrounds himself with.
So Alhaitham can only ask, “How has realizing your ideals gone for you?” knowing Kaveh would never consider answering this question were it to come from anyone else.
Whether it was meant to be one or not, Kaveh answers to this provocation and unloads all of his woes onto Alhaitham as if a dam had broken.
Alhaitham listened, as Kaveh tells him of the weight of reality that was all too eager to crush his dreams. Alhaitham listened, as Kaveh lamented watching people leave him behind in the pursuit of their own happiness. Alhaitham listened, as Kaveh had staked his entire life on his ideals, with nothing left to show for it but a bittersweet reminder from the heavens.
Perhaps a second chance had presented itself to Alhaitham, or perhaps Alhaitham was about to make the second greatest mistake of his life. But when it comes to Kaveh, he cannot keep his composure; he cannot stand idly by as he watches the man he has admired all this time drown in the sea of his own guilt.
But rather than jump in and risk drowning himself to save Kaveh, he wants to be there on the shore, ready and able to pull him back to safety. If nothing else, he doesn’t want to commit the same mistake of holding Kaveh back with his own philosophy and ideals. He wants to help him take flight to places where people can gaze upon his brilliance, where most ordinary people cannot follow, Alhaitham included.
So Alhaitham listened and listened and listens to Kaveh, hanging onto every word—to have and to hold every feeling, to share in every weal and woe, and finally, to cherish and honor the time he has with him now, as he failed to do so all those years ago.
And when Kaveh is finally spent on tears and words, Alhaitham gives him his hand and offers him a proposal.
“How would you like to live at my house? If you would have me.”
And though the question is met with silence, it carries an aching secret of love from an unknown sky where they will eventually take flight.