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    Kaveh smiles up at the stranger. "Sorry, he's right! I am taken. By him. But he doesn't know it yet."

    What.

    "Wait, what did you mean by that?" Al-Haitham asks faintly.

    "Oh, that?" Kaveh scoffs. "You're a little dense. Obviously, I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn't want to be kept by anybody but you."

    "But we are—" Al-Haitham trips over his words, trailing behind Kaveh as he walks purposefully through the city. "We aren't. Together. Neither of us has confirmed anything of the sort."

    Kaveh gives him a derisory look. "And what, we don't act like it? Some things don't have to be put into words to be understood. Ah, I forgot. Haravatat. You probably wouldn't accept anything else any other way."

    "It is not logical to make assumptions without empirical evidence."

    "You scholarly types," Kaveh mutters. "Always so particular."

    So. Al-Haitham is in love with Kaveh. This has got to be somebody's fault.

    Cue the five stages of grief.

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    23 Jul 2026