Work Text:
Rain slanted through the hallways of the Akademiya, casting the long corridors in a blurred mosaic of grey and gold.
Kaveh’s breath came in laboured gasps as he leaned over a wooden desk stacked high with blueprints and parchment.
The candlelight trembled over his gaunt features.
Dark circles framed his sunken eyes, and beads of sweat had wet the collar of his once-finely pressed shirt.
The air was rich with the scent of old paper and wax smoke.
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance, but inside the library’s annexe, there was only the drumming of his own heart.
He insisted to himself that the chill crawling up his spine was nothing more than the night’s damp.
Just one more night.
He could let the fever take hold tomorrow, after he finished.
The grand presentation stood on the morrow: one chance to reveal years of tireless work on the Sumeru Palace of Alcazarzaray.
The entire Akademiya awaited his findings.
Kaveh’s fingers traced the curves of an elaborate palace archway drawn into his final scroll.
Each ink stroke was precise, the blueprint a testament to counting every stone and ornament.
“I’ll stay for a little longer,” he whispered to himself, voice hoarse.
There was no one else left in the lab but him and the creeping shadows.
Just yesterday, Alhaitham had cautioned him gently over dinner.
“Do be careful in this storm, Kaveh,” he had said, watching him carefully across the banquet table.
The academic had paused, quill dangling from his grasp.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. One does not outrun a fever.”
Kaveh had given a thin smile.
He squeezed Alhaitham’s hand under the table, grateful for the silent support.
But Kaveh shook his head firmly.
“This project… it must be done. Just one more day,” he had insisted, even if his body trembled beneath the surface.
He had only nodded, anxiety flickering behind his calm eyes.
After dinner Alhaitham had quietly tucked a warm shawl around Kaveh’s shoulders and left him at his desk.
That cloth lay now forgotten on a chair back, unused against the chill that Kaveh refused to acknowledge creeping through him.
Tonight, the far lamps of Sumeru’s Akademiya cast a shimmering glow on the stone floor, mixed with the wet sheen of rainwater.
The staircases leading up seemed to vanish in a mist.
Kaveh rose from his desk with difficulty.
A sudden dizziness washed over him.
The world spun upside down as the library’s walls wavered for a heartbeat.
He steadied himself with both hands on the desk, tasting copper on his tongue and the familiar tang of ink in the air.
The ache of a cough building in his chest reminded him of his steadily rising temperature.
He exhaled raggedly and moved on automatic pilot toward the staircase, determined to take a brief walk in the hopes of clearing his head.
The stairs were dimly lit, polished wood beneath his feet, the cold strength of the railing under his trembling fingers.
Halfway down, a gust of wind brought in moisture from the open archway at the entry, and the few lanterns flickered.
In the silence, he could hear the faint echo of his own heartbeat.
The halls were empty save for the whisper of rain.
He imagined Alhaitham’s gentle reprimand again: Please, go home, those unspoken eyes had seemed to say. But Kaveh was too stubborn to admit defeat.
“I’m fine,” he muttered after a long moment, lips barely moving.
His knees buckled slightly.
He gripped the railing, knuckles whitening, and forced himself to descend.
A painful shiver ran down his spine.
He could make it, he told himself. Just one more floor.
As he paused on a landing, Kaveh closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose, trying to will the nausea away. The staircase murmured with memories, footsteps of researchers, laughter of friends, conversations at early dawn, long nights of debate about architecture and geometry.
All had taken place here, but tonight there was only silence and the terrifying knowledge that his body was rebelling.
A sudden jolt of dizziness struck.
He blinked rapidly.
Cold sweat blossomed across his brow.
The papers beneath his feet rustled with phantom gusts as if to warn him.
A distant thunder grumbled.
He clutched at the railing with white-knuckled fingers, his heart hammering.
Somewhere inside, pain and fever did battle with the quiet will he had cultivated.
“Just one more night,” he wheezed between breaths, a plea to the storm.
Only one more night until he could rest. The next day belonged to the presentation, the future written in stone and mortar.
He blinked open his eyes and started down the last flights of stairs, each step becoming heavier than the last.
Lightning flashed beyond the Akademiya’s open entrance, revealing slick stone steps and columns dripping with rainwater.
The thunder’s roar was louder than his pounding heart.
The great wooden doors stood slightly ajar , perhaps left open to let the storm breeze pass.
Kaveh needed only a few more paces to reach the lit foyer, where warmth and dry air awaited.
But fate intervened.
A sharp tingle raced down his calf and his vision tunneled darkly.
The lamplight stretched into elongated lines.
The world slanted.
His knee collapsed beneath him in a silent knot of agony.
“Kaveh–!”
A voice cut through the haze as strong arms wrapped around him.
The gentle but firm grip was reassuringly warm against his sodden tunic.
Alhaitham loomed into view, his expression shadowed by relief and concern.
The man had dashed up the stairs in an instant, as if he had a sixth sense for Kaveh’s faltering.
“I told you to stay off these steps in the cold,” Alhaitham chided softly, though the edge was replaced by deep care.
He bent to cradle Kaveh’s shoulder.
The scholar’s head lolled sideways as Alhaitham secured him, fixing him in a steady embrace.
Kaveh tried to protest weakly: “I– I’ll be okay.”
But his words dissolved into a fit of coughing.
When his eyelids fell shut, disbelief and betrayal by his own body flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a flush of shame.
“Shh,” Alhaitham murmured, lifting Kaveh effortlessly into his arms.
Despite his own worry, he threaded Kaveh’s arms around his neck to steady them both.
The sudden closeness sent a shock through Kaveh’s haze.
Alhaitham’s chest- solid, warm, steady- pressed against Kaveh’s back.
He felt the gentle rise and fall, felt the ease of breath that he so desperately lacked.
The sound of Alhaitham’s heartbeat resonated under his ear, a quiet thump that oddly soothed the chaos in his own chest.
They emerged from the shadows into the fountain-lit courtyard.
Raindrops reflected emerald and jade against the lamplights.
No one stirred on the grounds.
Alhaitham began to race toward their home through the slick path of the Akademiya grounds.
Kaveh’s protest was a distant memory; the only thing he could do was cling to Alhaitham’s shoulders as the man broke into a steady jog.
The wind, rain, and fear all blurred together into one overwhelming rush.
The cool night air nipped at Kaveh’s damp skin, and Alhaitham brushed rain-soaked hair from Kaveh’s forehead with practiced gentleness.
They reached the front door in moments.
Alhaitham’s key swung quietly in the lock.
The house was silent, warm light spilling from the windows.
He carried Kaveh through familiar halls, past bookshelves and parchment piles, into a room illuminated by the gentle glow of a fireplace.
Alhaitham gently lowered Kaveh onto the sofa by the hearth.
Kaveh’s vision swam, unable to focus on the coziness around him.
The sofa’s cushions, lined with a tapestry of gold and green thread, were soft beneath him.
He felt the warmth of the fire on his back, comforting against the chill of rain.
Alhaitham moved to his side, sleeves rolled up.
His hands, glowing in the firelight, were warm as he helped Kaveh to sit.
“Stand up,” Alhaitham instructed quietly, pulling a folded blanket from an armchair.
Despite Kaveh’s weak insistence that he could rest right there, Alhaitham wrapped the bundle around Kaveh with calm precision and then guided him to stand.
Kaveh swayed.
He barely kept his knees straight.
His forehead felt aflame, and his legs trembled.
He reached for the wall for support.
“Easy,” Alhaitham soothed, steadying him.
“I have you.”
His hands, firm yet gentle at Kaveh’s waist, radiated reassurance.
In the golden light from the fireplace, Kaveh caught a glimpse of Alhaitham’s eyes - deep amber-green mirrors reflecting endless worry and something softer, protective.
“Are you too warm?” Alhaitham asked softly, pressing his cool palm to Kaveh’s burning cheek.
Kaveh managed a weak shake of his head, too feeble even to cough this time.
Alhaitham guided him slowly toward the bedroom down the hall.
The wooden floorboards creaked under Kaveh’s weight.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the fireplace on the hearth at one end.
A bed draped in thick linens waited, pillows fluffed high.
Alhaitham helped Kaveh into the bed, adjusting pillows behind him.
“Stay. Rest,” Alhaitham coaxed, his voice thick with concern.
His fingers lingered at Kaveh’s temple, gently stroking as one might calm a child.
The faint scent of lavender from the pillow inhaled itself into Kaveh’s sluggish nose. Eyes half-lidded, Kaveh realized how truly exhausted he was.
He tried to protest again, but Alhaitham’s gentle gaze softened him in an instant.
“I’ll wake you shortly. Just… close your eyes for a little, okay?”
Sleep was already pulling Kaveh under.
He heard Alhaitham light a small lamp and move about the room.
The final image Kaveh recorded in his fevered mind was Alhaitham’s silhouette working at the desk- glasses perched on his nose, a quiet aura of concentration as if he were about to do something important.
When Kaveh’s eyes opened, the morning sun was already cresting the horizon, spreading warm light through the curtains.
For a moment, he felt disoriented, cocooned in warmth.
A flutter of panic began to rise in his chest as he realized he was still in bed, and the memory of missing stairs and darkness echoed behind his closed eyelids.
He tried to sit up and immediately wobbled, then gently collapsed back, breath hitching.
A bright white envelope lay on the table beside him, sealed with the Akademiya’s insignia.
Kaveh’s hand trembled as he reached for it.
Confusion was replaced by fear when he saw the date on it.
The presentation was yesterday, he realized with a jolt, eyes widening with terror.
All that night, Alhaitham remained by Kaveh’s side, tending to him with vigilant care.
He brewed a pot of ginger and honey tea with cinnamon, then knelt by Kaveh’s bedside, offering it with a gentle smile.
Each spoonful seemed to comfort Kaveh’s fever-choked throat.
His hands held the cup carefully as he guided it to Kaveh’s lips.
“You have to drink,” Alhaitham murmured softly.
“It’ll make you feel better.”
Despite the worry etched on his face, his voice was calm and reassuring.
Kaveh muttered incoherently as he sipped, the warmth soothing his burning throat.
Once the cup was empty, Alhaitham poured water over a clean cloth and pressed it gently onto Kaveh’s hot forehead, wiping away the sweat.
When Kaveh finally drifted into a heavy sleep, Alhaitham quietly rose and sat at the desk, lit by a single flickering candle.
From there, he retrieved the voluminous scrolls and notebooks filled with Kaveh’s research - diagrams of archways and domes, complex calculations, commentary in the margins.
He studied them in silence at first, noticing the way Kaveh’s handwriting flowed, the gentle shading he applied to his sketches.
He realized anew how much of Kaveh was poured into these pages.
As midnight deepened, Alhaitham began to prepare.
He scribbled notes on loose parchment: key points about structural integrity, the historical significance of the palace, arguments Kaveh had intended to make.
He practised transitions in a soft whisper into the still night air.
Each fact and figure formed a bridge in his mind, linking back to the plans he held.
The scratch of his quill on paper echoed in the quiet room.
Hours slipped by unnoticed.
Outside, the rain continued to tap against the roof, but Alhaitham hardly registered the storm.
He was focused entirely on Kaveh, on making the day right.
Whenever the crack of thunder shook the windows, Alhaitham would tighten his grip on his quill and glance once at the sleeping Kaveh, reassurance dawning as he saw his friend breathe calmly.
“The storm will pass by morning,” he muttered to himself softly.
“You’ll see.”
Before dawn, the cup had long since cooled. Alhaitham poured another glass of water, drinking it steadily before offering the last drops to Kaveh with a whisper, “Just a bit more.”
He watched the slow flicker of the candle flame and felt his own heavy eyes fight sleep.
The next day, while Kaveh remained asleep, Alhaitham paced the study, reviewing each line again and again.
He rehearsed the flow, the tone.
By noon, he finally donned a crisp robe and tucked Kaveh’s prize scrolls into a leather satchel, along with his notes.
He checked on Kaveh once more, smoothing back his hair.
By early afternoon, the world outside was bright.
Alhaitham took a final deep breath.
“Rest now,” he whispered to the sleeping architect, before quietly leaving the house.
Kaveh jolted awake to the distant sound of a door shutting behind him.
A cold sweat suddenly broke on his forehead as he sat up too quickly and nearly toppled out of bed.
At first, he couldn’t remember why he felt strange.
It was then his eyes fell to the bedside table and the letter.
He reached for it as if to erase what he knew it said.
The room was quiet, midday light streaming through the window.
But as the panic in his chest tightened, the peaceful morning shattered.
The presentation was yesterday.
He stumbled from the bed, chair clattering behind him.
The trophy and scroll from his work sat neatly next to the envelope.
Confusion hit him hard- he had missed it.
What had happened?
His breath quickened and his chest burned with guilt.
Each step he took in the bedroom felt leaden, his limbs heavy with impending collapse again.
“No, no, no!” Kaveh gasped, wild fear rising.
The simple sip of water after two days of illness could not quench the rage of panic blossoming inside him.
His mind raced: What will they say? They’ll cancel the project. They’ll blame me for everything.
Darkness threatened to swallow him as he staggered across the room.
His knees gave way and he sank to the floor near the window, knees folded under him.
He rested his forehead against the cool wooden frame, heart still frenzied.
“Alhaitham!”
His voice cracked with desperation. “Alhaitham, come back!”
He tried the doorknob with shaking fingers, but it was locked.
No answer.
Only the muffled world outside, oblivious to Kaveh’s torment.
His chest heaved as unbidden tears of frustration splashed onto the floorboards.
Breathing through the mounting panic became impossible; the walls felt like they were closing in.
Memories of colleagues encouraging him, setting alarms, double-checking slides, all wasted.
Each recollection only deepened the despair.
Kaveh slid forward until he crouched, hugging his knees as though to hold himself together.
“It can’t be true,” he whispered to the silent room.
But even to his own ears, it sounded hollow; he knew it was.
He clutched the trophy in his arms and held it tightly against his chest.
Everything he had worked so hard for, all wrapped up in this heavy metal.
And now it felt as if it weighed as much as guilt.
Dark thoughts circled in his fevered mind.
He had driven himself to the brink for this day.
How could he explain such a failure?
How could he face the council?
Everything was spinning.
A soft footstep in the hallway drew Kaveh’s tearful gaze upward.
Alhaitham appeared in the doorway, closing the distance swiftly.
Relief wrenched through Kaveh; he let out a grateful sob, arms reaching out.
“Alhaitham,” he gasped.
His knees still bent on the floor, body trembling.
Alhaitham’s eyes widened as he took in Kaveh’s disheveled appearance and clenched fists.
He hurried over and half-dragged Kaveh to the sofa by the fire.
“Sit down,” Alhaitham urged gently, guiding him into a sitting position.
Kaveh’s breath was labored.
His face was pale, eyes rimmed with red, hair askew from fever and panic.
He tried to speak, but instead he clutched the trophy in both hands and stared at it with desperation.
“It’s about the presentation,” Kaveh managed to choke out, voice cracking.
“It was yesterday… I- I missed it. I’ve ruined everything… what will I say? We worked for years… gone!”
Alhaitham’s expression softened.
He sat beside Kaveh and poured two glasses of water from a flask he had left on the mantle.
He handed one to Kaveh, whose shaking hands accepted it like a lifeline.
“Drink,” Alhaitham whispered.
Kaveh drank the water, gulping thirstily, as though to wash away his panic.
Then, placing the glass on the table, he looked at Alhaitham with wide eyes.
“You have to tell me,” he said hoarsely. “Please.”
Alhaitham nodded, a gentle smile starting at his lips.
“All of this,” he gestured to the trophy and the scroll and the envelope, “is because of you.”
Kaveh looked back and forth, bewilderment growing.
“But… what do you mean? I was just asleep-„
Alhaitham slid the scroll closer and handed the trophy to Kaveh.
“Listen. I went to that meeting this morning. For you.”
The words took a moment to register. Kaveh blinked, uncertain.
“For me?”
“Yes,” Alhaitham said softly.
He spoke with steady clarity now, confidence seeping into his voice.
“I spent last night studying your research. Every detail, every conclusion. I practised your speech in front of this mirror,” he said, tapping the small hand-mirror on the mantel.
“And I presented it to the council.”
Kaveh stared at Alhaitham, disbelieving. “You… I don’t even understand how-”
“I do,” Alhaitham interrupted gently, smiling.
“I became so familiar with your words I felt as if they were my own. The council was impressed. You won the prize.”
Kaveh’s free hand reached out, trembling, and lifted the trophy.
He ran his fingers over the engraved letters: Kaveh- Winner, Sumeru Architectural Prize.
The heavy cup was surprisingly solid and comforting in his grasp.
He looked back at Alhaitham, eyes wet.
“But only you know everything about this project,” he said, voice thick.
“How could you-”
Alhaitham laughed, a light, joyous sound.
“You’d be surprised what a little dedication can do,” he said with a wink.
“Your notes were thorough. I had them open the entire time, in case. But honestly… hearing you talk about this daydream of yours in the library gave me the confidence I needed.”
Kaveh’s shoulders shook, wet with tears of relief he hadn’t realized he was holding back.
He stood suddenly and wrapped his arms around Alhaitham in a fierce hug, squeezing him tight.
Alhaitham rose to meet him halfway, returning the embrace.
“I thought I had ruined it,” Kaveh whispered into Alhaitham’s chest.
“You haven’t ruined anything,” Alhaitham murmured back, loosening his arms enough to look at Kaveh face-to-face.
His emerald eyes were shining with pride and affection.
“If anything, you made me the luckiest man to call me your friend.”
Kaveh’s lips quirked into a shaky smile.
He pulled back a little, still in Alhaitham’s arms, and looked at the man’s face with awe.
Alhaitham’s eyes softened, his gaze warm. Kaveh felt a rush of gratitude, admiration, and something more sweeping between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The only sound was Kaveh’s erratic breathing.
Then Kaveh did something spontaneous: he leaned forward and captured Alhaitham’s lips in a soft, grateful kiss.
Alhaitham’s hand came to cradle Kaveh’s jaw as he melted into the kiss.
It was gentle and slow, a question as much as an answer, but soon Kaveh deepened it, his arms tightening around Alhaitham’s shoulders as he poured relief and emotion into that single moment.
When they finally broke apart, Kaveh’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes gleaming.
The world had narrowed to just the two of them, brighter than the firelight in the hearth.
Kaveh coughed a laugh, still breathless.
“I’m so happy I could kiss you,” he admitted quietly, realizing his own words.
Alhaitham only smiled, tender and teasing.
“Well? Do you want to show me?” he asked softly.
Kaveh’s cheeks flamed deeper.
He nodded wordlessly, and Alhaitham took the opportunity to lean in first, capturing Kaveh’s lips in another kiss.
This time, it was confident and sure, filled with warmth and promise.
When they finally pulled apart, both were smiling shyly, eyes bright with something wonderful and new.
Later that night, after they had eaten a simple stew and watched the rain patter on the window, the storm outside finally subsided.
Kaveh and Alhaitham found themselves curled together on the sofa, wrapped in the same blanket.
Kaveh’s head rested on Alhaitham’s chest as he stroked Kaveh’s hair.
“You’re a stubborn fool, you know that?” Alhaitham teased gently, though the playfulness in his voice was full of warmth.
“I know,” Kaveh replied with a tired grin.
“And I probably deserved this.”
He chuckled softly. “But I’m glad you did it, all of it.”
Alhaitham tightened his arm around Kaveh’s shoulders.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said.
He looked down at Kaveh, smiling softly.
“I’ve always admired how fiercely you pursue your work. You scare me sometimes with how determined you get.”
Kaveh snorted.
“Always the professional.”
He shook his head.
“Why didn’t you ever say any of this before? About all of it?”
Kaveh meant the pride and care, the affection hinted between them, the times Alhaitham had read his notes.
Alhaitham looked thoughtful.
“I guess I just assumed you knew. You’ve been the one to support me more often than anyone.”
His voice dropped to something more earnest.
“You trust me, right?”
Kaveh turned his head upward to look into Alhaitham’s eyes.
His smile was slow and shy.
“I trust you with everything. With my work, with my life.”
He reached up and brushed his thumb along Alhaitham’s jaw.
“With you.”
Alhaitham’s expression softened into something gentle, hopeful.
He pressed another kiss to Kaveh’s forehead.
“We’ll go together tomorrow,” he said.
“No more running yourself ragged.
The council will understand. We did this together, okay?”
Kaveh nodded, content.
“Together,” he agreed.
Outside, dawn brightened the sky.
Inside, two hearts at last beat in synchronicity.
They remained intertwined on the sofa until the first light of day turned gold through the window.
Only then did Kaveh reluctantly climb into bed.
Alhaitham followed, gathering the blanket around them both.
Lying side by side, they spoke quietly about trivial plans for lunch and what Kaveh would wear.
In truth, neither of them wanted to let go of this newfound closeness- they just enjoyed the comfort of each other’s presence.
Eventually, exhaustion took over.
They fell asleep entangled in each other’s arms, safe and comforted, with hopes and promises whispering between them like a lullaby.
The next morning was bright and clear. Under the warm sun, Kaveh and Alhaitham made their way together to the Akademiya’s grand assembly hall.
Kaveh held the new silver trophy carefully in one hand, and Alhaitham held Kaveh’s arm with easy confidence.
Students and scholars on the street gave them curious glances.
Some onlookers noted Kaveh’s flushed cheeks and Alhaitham’s lingering touch, but few spoke.
There was a subtle shift in the air: Kaveh walked just a bit taller, smiling, now that he knew he had Alhaitham by his side.
And Alhaitham offered a steady, reassuring hand whenever Kaveh’s nerves fluttered.
At the Akademiya hall, a small ceremony had been arranged.
Officials and professors gathered as Kaveh was called to receive his prize.
When Kaveh stepped onto the stage, trophy in hand, the applause was generous.
Brief speeches were made praising the ingenuity of the Palace designs.
When the ceremony neared its end, a council member pointed to Kaveh and raised an eyebrow at his side.
Kaveh cleared his throat softly.
“I- couldn’t be here yesterday,” he began, voice steady but warm.
“I was not well. This project is the culmination of many years of work, but I could not have done it alone.”
He looked over at Alhaitham and offered his hand.
Alhaitham took it and gave a reassuring squeeze.
With a modest smile, Kaveh continued, “My colleague Alhaitham stood in for me and delivered this presentation.”
There were murmurs of surprise and interest.
Smiling, Alhaitham returned Kaveh’s gaze warmly.
The chairman nodded.
“We indeed heard that. Well done to the both of you.”
Applause rose again as Kaveh and Alhaitham took a small bow together. Backstage, friends and professors congratulated them.
Everyone was eager to hear what had happened.
But Kaveh and Alhaitham just exchanged a shy grin and said it was nothing- everyone kindly assumed it was a case of scholarly dedication.
Kaveh simply clasped Alhaitham’s hand under the table as they left.
Outside the hall, in the midday sun, Kaveh took a breath and faced the man beside him.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For everything.”
Alhaitham just smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Kaveh’s temple.
“Always,” he replied softly.
No more words were needed.
After leaving the hall, Kaveh felt lighter than he had in weeks.
The midday sun warmed his shoulders as he and Alhaitham stepped into the courtyard.
Neither was in a hurry to return to the library; it was as if the world had shifted to make room for them.
Kaveh turned to Alhaitham with a grateful grin.
“I guess I owe you more than one thanks.”
Alhaitham just smiled back.
“You’ll owe me a kiss if you keep that up,” he teased.
Kaveh laughed softly.
“Then consider it paid in full,” he said, brushing Alhaitham’s arm in warm affection.
They wandered through the campus together, savoring the light breeze.
Eventually they stopped at a small cafeteria Alhaitham liked.
Under an oak tree, they shared two bowls of spiced lentil soup.
Steam curled between them as they talked quietly.
“You were amazing today,” Kaveh told him. “Every word. Everyone was stunned.”
Alhaitham shrugged modestly, sipping his soup.
“I just spoke what I felt. It wasn’t hard when it was your work.”
He tilted his head and studied Kaveh’s face. “You’ve really earned this, though. You know that, right?”
Kaveh felt his cheeks warm and he glanced down at the trophy Kaveh still held carefully in his lap.
“It only came out the way it did because of you,” he admitted.
“I’ve never felt so grateful.”
Alhaitham reached out and squeezed his hand.
“We did this together,” he said.
They shared a quiet smile.
Around them, other scholars passed by, but none intruded on this personal moment.
For the first time in a long while, Kaveh allowed himself to relax completely.
He realized how much he had depended on Alhaitham’s steady presence without even fully acknowledging it before.
As they finished their lunch, Alhaitham leaned back.
“So,” he said quietly, “what now? How will you tell the others? Or your father?”
Kaveh thought for a moment, spoon halfway to his mouth.
A memory crossed his mind: years ago, as a student, Kaveh had nearly fallen off a library ladder when he got faint. Only Alhaitham’s quick reflexes had caught him. Back then, Kaveh had been too proud to thank anyone.
Now he grinned.
“I think I’ll start by telling them I have a guardian angel,” he said softly.
Alhaitham’s laughter warmed him.
“And do I get any credit for that?”
“Absolutely,” Kaveh said without hesitation. “More credit than anyone else.”
Silence settled between them as they stood to leave.
Kaveh lifted his hand to Alhaitham’s face, brushing a crumb from his lips.
“I am really lucky,” he confessed quietly.
Alhaitham’s eyes met his, shining.
“Right back at you,” he replied.
They walked home side by side, the new trophy safely in Kaveh’s arms, every little worry of the past weeks washed away.
The morning had brought them not just triumph, but something far more lasting.
And as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows down the garden path, Kaveh knew with comforting certainty that the future, whatever it might bring, would be theirs to share together.
Later that evening, back at home, Alhaitham prepared two cups of tea.
They sat together by the soft glow of lamplight in the living room, watching the sky outside turn indigo.
Kaveh set the trophy carefully on a shelf above the fireplace and turned to Alhaitham.
“I think some storms are worth weathering,” he murmured softly.
Alhaitham gave him a gentle smile.
“With you, I’d weather any storm,” he replied, his voice warm.