Archive of Our Own ^beta

Little footsteps pattered around in an empty hall. 

The old wooden floor groaned against their shifting weight as if gasping for air in between stomps. Soon the sound of metal could be heard scraping against granite; a tell-tale sign that the little steps had made their way to the kitchen. Two clicks and the muffled flames of a burner joined the quietness. Rain tapped endlessly against stained glass windows. A clock tsk’d its tongue disapprovingly in the distance. 

Kaveh sat on the floor.

He leaned against the wall. The grainy texture rubbed tenderly against his spine, yet stopped at the gap created by his lulled back head--oily and blond split ends making contact with the paint. Beside him stood a stool. Kaveh couldn’t bring himself to produce enough dignity to sit on it; he knew he’d keel over eventually and return to the stability of the ground anyways. Each tiny footstep he heard behind the closed doors of the room he shut himself off in made his stomach coil tighter with anxiety. Unjustly so, for Kaveh knew that the source of the steps was just the tender movements of his daughter, Ashra, and that fact made his brain ache with guilt.

He knew that whatever she was making in the kitchen would go smoother if he wasn’t around to bother her. His presence would diminish her resolve and chase her away, like a small drop of rain racing down a leaf to the cool and comforting dirt below. A tear threatened to spill past Kaveh’s eyelashes, and he quickly raised a lithe hand to wipe it away. His cheeks were still rubbed raw and coarse from months of crying beforehand, and tears stung now. Kaveh inhaled slowly; his breath coming in rough and warbly. A twinge of uncomfortableness jabbed the lower side of his ribs, telling him that it would be wise to replace his tears with water. Yet, Kaveh refused to entertain the idea of leaving his precarious privacy for even a minute. 

Sloshing milk poured into a pan.

Kaveh’s rutted eyes looked around the room he sat in as if it was a location completely unfamiliar to him. It was his bedroom--he knew that--yet, he felt its presence dreamily off-putting; a dazed-out memory. He hadn’t been here for a while. He slept on the couch. He got ready in the kitchen, dressed in the bathroom, and even pulled out all of the clothes in his closet to shove them into boxes that sat in the hallway for “convenience sake.” All of this to completely ignore the bedroom and deprive it of use; to humble out its memory. Despite this, the bedroom was still very much real. Real in the same way it had been when Kaveh still had someone to share it with. Another pang of sorrow hit Kaveh’s chest as he realized that the bed still wore the same dark green comforter it had on when he was last in the room. It was quite an ugly comforter; it was threaded with chunky brown yarn that loosely draped from its seams, like an oversized doily that was tread through freshly cut grass. But, it was also the warmest comforter that Kaveh had ever slept under, a benefit that Alhaitham readily pointed out to him when he bought it for the colder months.

Kaveh internally cursed his brain for leading itself down a path that they both knew would cause him to think of Alhaitham. Kaveh swung up a heavy hand to press against his clammy cheek as he squeezed his eyes shut tight; begging that his body would be merciful enough to spare his raw face from another round of tears. Kaveh was painfully aware that nothing good came from his thoughts wandering to Alhaitham, even the sweetest memories he held were tinged sour with his death.

His death? Right, he’s dead.

The question and answer flooded Kaveh’s mind all at once, and he tore away his sights from the comforter to desperately search for something else in the room to distract his weary mind. It proved to be a difficult task, as the bedroom was drenched with Alhaitham’s memory. Each book, blanket, rug, pillow, and even the curtains had a story attached to it.

The burner sizzled with food.

Sluggishly, Kaveh stumbled upwards; holding the stool to keep his balance. A distraction wasn’t so easily found in plain sight, and leaving the room simply wasn’t an option. Kaveh sauntered over to his old and dusty vanity and rolled open its stubborn bottom drawer. Bygone receipts, expired vials of skin-care products, hair clips, scattered medication, a few rings, half-empty cologne and perfume samples, a couple of pens, and a bunch of other miscellaneous items littered its bottom. Kaveh could remember a time when all of it was organized, and he bit his lip softly in order to avoid a potentially self-deprecating tangent. He ran his fingers idly through the mess until his index finger scraped the side of an old and yellowing envelope; partially hidden by a wooden fine-tooth comb. Kaveh picked it up curiously.

Something chopped in the distance.

The back of the stained paper was addressed to him:

To Kaveh. From the bottom of my heart; thank you for being there.

Kaveh blinked the confusion from his eyes as he tried to recall the purpose of the letter from appearance alone. Eventually, when it became clear that grief had rotted his memory, he carefully opened the frail envelope in search of a clue. The only thing it contained was a single old photograph with badly creased edges. The picture itself was quite unremarkable, but the mere sight of it caused Kaveh to startle.

It was of his mother’s wedding.

The picture showed her in an off-white and boutique-ish gown that reached her ankles. Her smile was wide and bright, and her face tilted into her shorter groom: a portly man adorned in an intricate and rococo-inspired suit. Beneath them were two children--a boy and a girl--who couldn’t have been any older than eleven. Their tight and youthful smiles couldn’t hide their childish boredom with the event. Kaveh was there too, although looking much younger than he did currently, and he stood an arm’s length from his mother at her side; a tad awkward.

The memory of Kaveh’s receival of the picture rushed into his mind at once. He had gotten it a month after he attended the wedding…and then promptly spilled coffee onto it; a tragedy that explained its relatively poor present condition. Kaveh stared at the picture in awe: has it been that long? He recalled a time when his mother’s wedding was one of the biggest stressors in his life; now it’s been reduced to one photograph amongst a pile of clutter.

Kaveh vividly remembered when he first received the wedding invitation…mostly because his heart immediately dropped.

The Fontainian-styled cardstock was trimmed with a beautiful gold pattern, and each finely printed letter was penned with a velvety and navy-blue ink that smelt strongly of lakelight lilies. Kaveh could do not a thing but stare at it wide-eyed; thinking everything yet seeing nothing. It was only until one of his coworkers at the architecture firm he’d been working at back then waved him goodbye, did Kaveh even process that the “Faranak” that the letter said was to be getting married, was the same “Faranak” that had been his mother all those years ago.

The letter had said:

Dear Kaveh,

I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I reached the docks of Fontaine.

I’ve been an absolute scoundrel when it comes to sending consistent letters, so I apologize for that deeply. I promise I’ll send more. 

In any case: the architecture here is like nothing you’ve ever seen in Sumeru! I’ve been so inspired that I barely want to do anything else but sketch. Speaking of which, attached to this letter you should find some of these said sketches; I’m sure you’ll like them just as much as I do. 

As for the main purpose of this letter…I’m not sure how to tell you this, so I’ll just be blunt. I’ve met a man at one of my jobs--he’s a wonderful person, truly--and we’ve been courting for quite some time. Just this past month he proposed to me; I said yes.

I hate to have suddenly sprung this on you, again I promise I’ll get better at sending letters and updates! But as you can imagine, it’s been quite a busy past couple of years for me, and I didn’t want to tell you about this man until I was sure it was serious. Well, now it’s as serious as it’s ever going to get.

This of course leads me to our wedding. Kaveh, I can’t imagine it without you, so this letter will serve as your official invitation to it. I know you’re probably incredibly busy too, but nothing would mean more to me than to have you here. It would also be lovely if you could meet my fiancé and his two children face-to-face; all three of them are absolute dreams.

Please consider it!

Love you always,

Your mother.

At the time, it felt like the worst thing for Kaveh to do was not to go.

Kaveh arrived exactly on the day of the wedding, too busy to make it any earlier. The venue was located outside near the Fontainian shore. Rows of ivory chairs were lined up neatly on top of a coral-stoned pavilion, all leading to a grand altar. White, pink, and green flowers dotted everything they could touch. A soft and warm breeze intermingled with the spring bloom and the freshness of the lake, spreading floral scent over every nook and cranny of the lot. Everything had a particular style to it, and it was obvious to Kaveh that it was all his mother’s doing.

By the time Kaveh found the bride, he was picking petals out of his hair.

Faranak sat at a table. She held some sort of crystalline liquor in a delicate glass. The two children from the photo--who Kaveh now remembered as Faranak’s stepchildren--played a card game beside her. The woman noticed Kaveh with a gasp.

“Kaveh?” Faranak questioned as she got up and hastened to his side. “Good lord, is that really you?”

Kaveh, who found himself suddenly overcome with emotion at his mother’s appearance, opened his mouth to confirm. Before he could speak, however, Faranak exclaimed and wrapped her slim arms around his.

“You’ve gotten so big!” she cried. “And tall! Isn’t he so tall?”

Her question was directed at the two children, and they nervously looked up at Kaveh and nodded softly; not sharing Faranak’s enthusiasm. He looked just as tall as the rest of the adults in their lives.

Faranak clicked her tongue and turned back around to Kaveh. “Please don’t mind them, they’re shy. And a tad bit tired. They helped set up for the wedding last night.”

 She once again faced the two children. “Right? You two are a bit cranky because you’re sleepy?”

The children’s faces reddened as they looked between Faranak and Kaveh with unease. Realizing that he hadn’t yet spoken; Kaveh took it upon himself to distract his mother from the poor siblings.

“I’m incredibly glad to see you,” Kaveh stumbled out, feeling a bit embarrassed himself. “You’re in good health, I assume?”

Faranak nodded. “Good as can be! How about you? I didn’t pull you away at a bad time, did I?”

“Not at all!” Kaveh reassured. “It's been a bit slow at the firm.”

Kaveh grimaced at the reminder of his job. Truthfully, a “bit slow” meant barely any work at all. Faranak smiled and patted his arm.

Suddenly, Kaveh felt a rough hand smack the middle of his back. He whipped around irritably, only to find the grinning face of a strange man staring back at him.

“Kaveh!” the man cried with a confusing degree of familiarity. “You look exactly like your mother; I’d recognize you anywhere!”

Kaveh felt that his gaze was more unfriendly than intended, and Faranak moved to plant a quick kiss against the man's round face.

“This is Gautier,” she said. “My soon-to-be husband.”

Gautier was a stocky man, short and rotund, with a large and red face, sat atop his broad shoulders. He had dark slicked-back hair and a newly groomed mustache; accompanied by a wide smile and bushy eyebrows.

He looked nothing like Kaveh’s late father.

Kaveh felt his face burn from his previous discourtesy. “Of course, I’m sorry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Kaveh stuck out his hand and Gautier took it readily; his firm grip was almost painful.

“She talks so much about you,” Gautier enthused. “No need for formal introductions between us; I feel like I’ve known you my entire life.”

Before Kaveh could worry too much about what exactly he’d been told, Gautier already moved to stand behind the two children at the table.

“Were the kids introduced yet?” Gautier questioned. Faranak shook her head.

“Kaveh just got here.”

Gautier smacked his coarse hands down on both of the children’s shoulders. “This is Theo, and this is Annabelle.”

The children seemed quite abashed.

“Say hi.”

Both Theo and Annabelle mumbled a greeting, and the latter even bothered to give a half-hearted wave.

“Twins. Could you tell?” Faranak mused before lowering her voice and turning to Kaveh. “They’re from Gautier’s previous marriage.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Kaveh smiled at the children. “You two look quite sharp.”

Annabelle hummed contently at his remark. “My mother made my shoes.”

“Their mother is a cobbler,” Gautier clarified.

Divorced then? Kaveh wondered. Not widowed. Unlike--

Suddenly, Faranak walked over and put her hand on Gautier’s shoulder. “We need to get ready for the ceremony.”

Gautier nodded. Before leaving with her groom, however, Faranak stole another glance at Kaveh and moved to hug him. Her eyes were overcome with emotion.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered. “I missed you more than I could say.”

Her earlier franticity seemed to calm in her son’s presence, and Kaveh was content to return the embrace.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Faranak pulled back and gave him another smile. She was quickly called back by Gautier, and Theo and Annabelle trailed after them as they left.

Kaveh stood there alone for a while, his mind racing a mile a minute. Faranak seemed happy. A little worked up, but happy. And Kaveh couldn’t help but find that deeply satisfying. However, disappointment that their long-awaited reunion wasn’t any more intimate than a few simple introductions hung at the back of his mind. Kaveh tried to reason with himself: weddings are stressful. It would be selfish of me to demand too much of her time. Yet, he quickly realized that he would be better off looking around than trying to engage in internal discourse. With a start, he went to watch other wedding guests mingle amongst each other. 

Fontainian formal dress was colorful and grand; adorned with ribbons, lace, and many other manners of miscellaneous decor. Kaveh had a wonderful time looking at all of it, though it wasn’t long until he realized that Fontainian dress was all he saw; no hinting familiarity of Sumeru was anywhere to be found, despite the bride being of its descent. Following this realization, Kaveh also quickly noticed that all of the guests were, in fact, Fontainian. Was it possible that Faranak didn’t bother inviting any of her old friends from Sumeru? Kaveh paced around the lot as he stole glances from the other guests. The more he did so, the more he resolved that he was the only person from his mother’s “old” life that was present. Not only that, but Kaveh--after noticing that more people were staring at him than usual--was a tad embarrassed to find that his Sumeru-style clothing made him stick out like a sore thumb. He eventually ended up resigning himself to sit alone at one of the side tables. Kaveh wondered if it would be best for him to socialize--to acquaint himself with all the people Faranak and her new husband thought well enough of to invite--yet he found himself unable to do much but sit, his usual congeniality being blocked by a strange lump in his throat. 

The wine would have to be enough company.

The rest of the day passed by in a hazy blur. Even the small size of the wedding did not hesitate to make Kaveh’s head spin. Shrill exclamations of congratulations echoed throughout the venue every hour on the hour, new faces popped up before bursting away, children screamed and laughed with their peers, employees shuffled food and drink away, and elders smiled and reminisced. The only moment of tranquility Kaveh ever got was when he popped out momentarily to walk the white shore of the lake, hoping he would catch a solitary moment with his mother.

Yet, despite his best wishes, Kaveh didn’t see Faranak again until he was sat in a row; strangers on his left side, and Theo and Annabelle on his right--all looking up to see the happy bride trounce down the aisle. Her gaze was nervously serene.

Perhaps it was the alcohol--or maybe the lack of sleep--but the moment Faranak reached the altar, Kaveh felt his stomach drop. The last time he had seen her, she was distraught. Distraught at the fact she was to leave Kaveh, to leave Sumeru, to leave the only home she’s ever known. He had listened to her wail with grief the night before her departure--and many nights before then--and now he listened to her wobbly vows of love to a man Kaveh hadn’t even met until today.

“I promise to love you as long as I possibly can--”

Kaveh’s eyes grew tired.

“To grow with you and not apart; to root myself by your side.”

A woman next to him coughed slightly.

“To cherish everything you give me, for all time…”

Faranak pulled a strand of hair out of her lipstick.

“And to make a promise that I’ll never leave you--death, sickness, or otherwise.”

A few more words and the couple--now happily married--threw themselves into a kiss. The crowd erupted into applause, and Kaveh felt a strange and comforting hand pat him on the back. This time, he didn’t bother to turn around to see who it was.

Kaveh didn’t see Faranak again until the sky was a deep navy and the wavy clouds painted its low surface in grand strokes of pink and yellow, stained with the lowering sun. She sat with her new husband and stepchildren at a table. Her angelic frame was illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight, and the shadow of Gautier lay softly on her side; his hand in hers. Theo and Annelle’s moods had visibly improved with the previous hour's serving of cake, and they sat by their father and new mother--chatting happily. Theo said something that made Faranak laugh, and she rustled his hair with a smile. They all leaned into each other’s intimate embrace; interlocking as one.

 Kaveh stood a couple of paces away, the shadow of one of the decorative arches hiding his frame. They’re a cute family, Kaveh thought as the corners of his mouth curved into a smile. Another round of laughter boomed from the table, and at once Kaveh felt all his energy dissipate.

Functional too.

The weariness in Kaveh’s bones ushered a realization to crawl to the forefront of his mind: he wasn’t enjoying the wedding as much as he thought he should be. 

Kaveh had reunited with his mother, he had been able to confirm her wellbeing, and he got to enjoy the beauty of Fontaine, yet he still felt a pang of emptiness resound in him. Had he been hanging onto the memory of his late father too much? On some level, did he feel betrayed for him? That wasn’t fair to his mother, and Kaveh felt a twinge of guilt for even entertaining the thought.

If it would ensure Faranak’s happiness, then Kaveh would rather she forget his father.

Besides, Kaveh would still remember him. Now that Faranak had married anew, and his father was long dead; Kaveh simply had to accept that he was to bear the burden of being the sole remainder of his “old” family. The sole memory. That was okay--there wasn’t any room for it not to be.

Kaveh took one last look at the budding beginnings of a family that was ripe to bloom. He studied his mother’s face before hanging his head down and walking away without saying anything, too afraid of the intrinsic bad memory that his very appearance would bring to Faranak if he were to join them. He didn’t want to ruin her mood.

He wished for a day where Faranak could forget. Forget all the pains and troubles that life had forced down on her, that brought her to her knees. Forgetting isn’t always inferior to remembering, Kaveh had reasoned to himself as he left the venue alone that night, his thoughts souring as he reminisced about his younger days at the Akademiya. I have a few people I would love to forget.

A particularly painful crick nestled itself in Kaveh’s back, and he groaned; being brought back to reality, and the photo he held in his hand. The corners of the picture he was pinching dried out his fingers, and he set the photo down and rubbed them together. It had been many years since the photograph was taken. So much so that Kaveh failed to remember when exactly, in the absolute whirlwind of a day, it had been snapped. It was neither here nor there for him though; his mother’s remarriage wasn’t a topic he liked to dwell on for long. His complacency with the event had dwindled with time.

Kaveh found it hard to keep up with his mother after her wedding. Mostly because, at the time, he had felt as though every single mistake he ever made was coming down on him in spades. If it wasn’t unemployment, it was financial ruin. If it wasn’t financial ruin, it was depression. If it wasn’t depression, it was annoying men budding their way back into Kaveh’s life. And if it wasn’t annoying men budding their way back into Kaveh’s life, it was unemployment. So on, and so forth. 

But it was never Kaveh’s place to tell his mother his troubles--no. It wasn’t justifiable enough to burden her.

Yet out of all the struggles Kaveh faced in life, only one of them felt worthwhile.

There was one night in Kaveh’s youth--one incredibly stand-out night--where he was terribly drunk. He was too drunk to care if he looked pathetic as held his head in his arms, face pressed against the cool wood of the table. The tavern was quiet; inky night only warded off by the shrill glow of a single lantern beside him. Kaveh had been one of the most esteemed patrons for a while, as he was constantly there. He knew there would be nowhere else to go even if he sobered up enough to walk. Sometimes, if the owner felt sorry enough, he would even let Kaveh fall asleep in the tavern, making sure nobody else bothered him. Though, not without a terrible crick in his neck the following morning.

But this night was not a night where Kaveh would be sleeping in the tavern.

 Instead, as Kaveh lay there, he felt the back of his head burn with anticipation, as though someone had approached him to stare. Through his closed eyes, Kaveh could feel the cooling shadow of a body looming over him. He opened his right eye just enough to peer at the unwanted guest.

Kaveh almost damn near jumped out of his skin.

In front of him was the--then estranged--figure of Alhaitham staring down at him, a slight grimace on his lips. Kaveh could smile at the memory now, but at the time, his face froze solid with complete shock. It was as if Kaveh had been thrust back into time.

Finally, he mustered out a reply that was supposed to be curt, yet came out much emptier.

“ Alhaitham? ” Kaveh immediately straightened up and brushed the wrinkles out of his top. He opened his mouth like he had more to say, but he could only stare wordlessly at the younger man standing before him. He had certainly… changed with time.

Alhaitham stared back at him blankly, but his eyes searched Kaveh’s frame.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham responded bluntly as though it was an adequate greeting after so long. “How long have you been here?”

“Why are you here?” the words tumbled out of Kaveh’s mouth, and Alhaitham’s frown deepened at the unanswered question.

“I was around,” Alhaitham answered and tilted his head. “How long have you been here?”

“Around? For what?” Kaveh asked. He was slowly recovering from his alcohol-induced drowsiness, and his face quickly began to heat. Seven years of silence and this is how he meets Alhaitham again? Half asleep in a tavern, empty glass in tow? Kaveh’s embarrassment quickly started to bubble away to irritation.

“Work.” 

Uninvited, Alhaitham slid into the chair across from Kaveh. “Do you know what that is?”

Kaveh stared at him quietly for a moment before letting out a short yet slightly hysterical laugh; alcohol still dulling his senses. “...Do I know what ‘work’ is? You’re such a charmer, you know that? You know what charmer means?”

“I just thought I’d ask,” Alhaitham replied, ignoring Kaveh’s last statement. “I figured that if you had a job to get up for tomorrow--you wouldn’t be here still.”

“It’s comforting to see that your judgmentalness hasn’t lessened one bit, ” Kaveh scoffed and picked up the empty glass sitting beside him. “It takes me back to simpler times.”

Alhaitham stared at the glass in Kaveh’s hands. “I’m not judging you.”

“Right.”

“Really, I’m not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well. At least not yet,” Alhaitham sighed.

Kaveh slammed the glass back onto the table.

“ Okay. If you have such an important job; why are you also here? Why is it too late for me to be here and not for you?” Kaveh snapped. “I know this might be hard for you to accomplish, but I want your answer to be as unhypocritical as possible.”

Alhaitham quieted at his words. He looked up to the ceiling before looking back down at Kaveh. He seemed almost sheepish.

“ Well?” 

“I… happened to see you through the tavern window while walking back from work,” Alhaitham finally began. “Then I went home for about five hours before I noticed that I forgot to mail an important document out, so I walked to the post office.”

Alhaitham crossed his arms. “I still saw you through the window.”

He straightened up a little before continuing. “I admit I found that a tad concerning. But mostly--I just thought a drink would be nice. The post office can be a real headache.”

Kaveh looked at him with wide eyes. Alhaitham came in here just to see if he was as pathetic as he’d observed from afar. He bristled with annoyance.

“You didn’t have to look twice,” Kaveh grumbled.

“Hmm?”

“I think it’s time you got going,” Kaveh stated firmly, his energy beginning to wane. “Is your sleep schedule still as rigid as it was when we were teenagers? It’s almost midnight, you wouldn’t want to mess that up.”

“It’s almost dawn,” Alhaitham corrected.

“ What? ” Kaveh jolted upwards. “ You’re kidding. How’d you get in here so late?”

Alhaitham raised a brow. “The tavern is open 24/7. It’s been that way since forever.”

Kaveh stared at Alhaitham through blurry eyes. Right, he grimaced. How drunk am I to have forgotten something like that?

“It’s dawn,” Alhaitham restated. “You should go home too.”

Kaveh winced slightly at his words. “Yeah. But…”

“But?”

Kaveh didn’t realize he was trailing off. He sighed and traced his finger along the rim of the glass idly.

“I don’t think,” Kaveh began, trying his best to sound casual. “I don’t think I’m done for the night quite yet. I’ll stay here a little longer.”

Alhaitham simply stared at Kaveh. Kaveh caught his gaze and returned it. They both sat there, saying nothing. It had been many years since Kaveh last saw Alhaitham, and he had matured gravely since then. He looked taller--although Kaveh couldn’t be sure in the dim lighting--and his face was better proportioned. His intense features from his youth suited him much more kindly now. He was quite handsome.

Kaveh looked away.

Alhaitham broke the silence. “Why?”

“...Why?”

“Why aren’t you done?”

Kaveh sighed. “I’m just not done.”

“With?”

“With what?”

“What exactly are you doing here that you aren’t ready to be done with?” Alhaitham narrowed his eyes at Kaveh. If he wasn’t judgemental before, was he now?

“You aren’t my keeper.” Kaveh shook his head. “I’m too drunk to get into another argument with you. If you want to go home--go home. Either way, I'll be here.”

At Kaveh’s words, Alhaitham’s lips pulled tighter, as though he had an unspoken thought that he wasn’t sure would be well received. Eventually, Alhaitham spoke again. His words were chosen carefully.

“I hope you make it out of here eventually,” he began. “You might find the outside world more agreeable to your senses than this dingy place.”

With that, Alhaitham slid off the chair and turned away from Kaveh, not even sparing another glance in his direction. Strangely, Kaveh felt his stomach tighten. Was this the last time he’d even see Alhaitham again? It had been seven years before, how much longer still? A chance encounter at dawn. Kaveh, newly resolved not to watch yet another person leave him, called Alhaitham to wait. Alhaitham whipped around quickly.

“I don’t have anything else to do.”

Kaveh stammered the words out before he could stop himself. Alhaitham said nothing but moved to sit back down across from him. Irritatingly, Kaveh realized that he had given Alhaitham exactly what he wanted with too little fight. Regardless, he continued on.

“There’s nowhere for me to go.” Kaveh’s throat tightened with pent-up frustration. “I…don’t have much left.”

Kaveh couldn’t stop the disparaging comments about his life from flowing, and he rested his warm face in his hands to appease his growing headache. 

He was a mess--at least Kaveh himself thought so. But if Alhaitham returned the sentiment, he didn’t show it. Alhaitham’s head was tilted slightly in interest, but his face was as neutral as it had always been. His features may have changed, but Kaveh remembered that expression well. It was nostalgic. Kaveh found himself thankful for the impartiality.

“I…” Kaveh half-heartedly covered his mouth with his hand. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

Alhaitham sighed. “Is there anyone else to tell?”

Kaveh told him many things that night.

He told him about the stranger that his mother had married who looked nothing like his late father, about his children that she got along so well with--who she laughed and smiled at. About the long hours that plagued his old firm, and the cuts and bruises he’d get spending all night trying to appease their deadlines. About the withering zones and how bad they were getting; how hard they were to detect until it was too late. The money he received, the money he spent. How commissions were few and far between, and how he lived paycheck to paycheck. Life had not been easy for Kaveh after he left the Akademiya--hell, it wasn’t that easy back then either--and by the time he gained enough conscientious to question if it really was okay to be telling Alhaitham all his troubles; he realized that he had said everything he could possibly say.

Alhaitham was silent. Even as they both walked--or stumbled, in Kaveh’s case--out of the tavern, he said not a word. The cool night air sobered Kaveh a tad bit more, but his head felt so heavy he had half the desire to rest it on Alhaitham’s shoulder. He quickly decided against the thought and stared blankly into the horizon; retreating with dawn. Even after Alhaitham uttered a few choice words; Kaveh realized that he still had nowhere to go.

At least he thought.

The next thing he remembered was waking up on a strange green divan in an unfamiliar house he would later recognize as Alhaitham’s, hungover and still in his wrinkled clothes from the day before. When he got the chance, Kaveh demanded an explanation from Alhaitham. He simply said that Kaveh was in no condition to be alone.

“You were barely responsive. Was I supposed to lay you down on the street somewhere and walk away?”

Yes? Kaveh thought. He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed that Alhaitham saw in him such a pitiful state, or because he was being forced to spend even more time with the man. Besides, the street wasn’t so bad; admittedly, Kaveh had to resort to it once or twice.

“Doing so doesn’t seem to fit well with your ideals, anyway.”

“It fits well with yours,” Kaveh mumbled as he begrudgingly ate from a cup of fruit that Alhaitham prepared for him.

Alhaitham didn’t respond.

Kaveh left early that morning with no intention of ever being back, or keeping in contact with Alhaitham. But only a couple of days later, Alhaitham had found him once again…mostly in the same miserable spot. Alhaitham only sighed and suggested that Kaveh could live with him if he “was really that desperate,” and for once, Kaveh forced himself to come to grips with the fact that he wasn’t in the best position to deny him. The house Alhaitham resided in was supposed to be theirs after all--courtesy of their horribly dropped thesis paper--and Kaveh figured that if worst came to worst he could avoid the man well enough. There was no use in pretending like they liked each other, after all. Kaveh would only be Alhaitham’s roommate for a few weeks while he tried to pull his life together.

But weeks turned into months.

And months turned into years, and years melded together all the same. Life with Alhaitham was difficult. He was brash, lazy, stubborn, nowhere and everywhere at the same time. 

Kaveh never could quite figure him out.

Alhaitham wasn’t the same boy from the Akademiya that he had known. He was less polite; less masked. Less cute. He no longer hung onto Kaveh’s every word and academic musing. Instead now, Alhaitham had a bit of a tongue to him, always willing to push back.

It was infuriating.

Yet as the seasons passed, and more and more of Kaveh’s belongings littered the once minimalist decor, the two men found themselves in the same room more often than not. Kaveh would offhandedly show Alhaitham a design he’d been working on, and--unlike the other architects at his old firm--he’d never be scared to critique it--or praise it. Kaveh’s reputation often intimidated other people, mostly because his colleagues thought that it was a fruitless endeavor to attempt a dialogue with him due to their own self-doubt, and pulling feedback out of them was a fool’s errand nine times out of ten. With Alhaitham, it was never like that, not even when they first met. It was one of the qualities that drew Kaveh to him in the first place.

On the contrary, Alhaitham’s work wasn’t as interesting a topic to discuss, mostly being documents and reviews. Yet, sometimes particularly egregious articles were placed on Kaveh’s desk for him to look at.

Soon, academic papers turned into cups of coffee.

Kaveh woke up one morning to see a filled mug for him on the kitchen counter, and Alhaitham, who sat close by, rolled his eyes.

“A genius architect like you should be well aware that staying up all night on a project only leads to a decrease in the overall quality of their work. You’re fortunate that I happened to have made extra this morning.”

Kaveh scolded Alhaitham for his impudence but found himself grateful nonetheless. It was even his favorite brand of coffee. Lucky guess, he supposed.

But there were other things too. Little things; things that took Kaveh months to realize. If he’d fall asleep at his desk, he’d have a blanket draped over him the next morning without fail. When Kaveh brought it up, Alhaitham theorized that Kaveh had been subconsciously bringing a blanket with him during his late nights, and didn’t notice. 

Kaveh wasn’t convinced. 

If Kaveh complained about the floor being dirty, he’d wake up to it clean. If Kaveh stressed about how much laundry he had to do, Alhaitham would “accidentally” combine part of Kaveh’s load with his. If Kaveh craved chickpeas, he would find them in the pantry a day later. They both cooked for themselves most days, but if Kaveh was sick, Alhaitham would suddenly have leftovers that Kaveh could have if he “felt like it.”

Coincidences, Kaveh reasoned. Just coincidences. But “coincidence” loses meaning the more it’s used. Eventually, Kaveh’s entire life was filled with coincidences. If it wasn’t laundry, it was the dishes. If it wasn’t chickpeas, it was olives. And if it wasn’t leftovers, it was full meals that Alhaitham happened to have buy-one-get-one-free coupons for. 

One night, it dawned on Kaveh that Alhaitham was doing all of that on purpose.

But why?

Kaveh just about tore out his hair racking his brain for a justification that he could cling to. Is he mocking me? But to what end? Maybe this is some sort of sick power play. But it’s not like he’s done anything that’s made me dependent on him. Perhaps, he doesn’t have a single clue what he’s doing? No, he’s smarter than that. What if this is some huge plot to get back at me for our fight all those years ago? I don’t know how exactly, but I bet he’ll use my living situation as some sort of blackmail. He’ll cast me out, and berate me for indulging so much in the free stuff he’s given me. Or maybe--

“I think he just likes you,” Tighnari said once, while out to lunch with Kaveh.

Kaveh looked at him incredulously, as if it was he who didn’t have a clue.

“I think you’re just insane.” Kaveh grimaced. “He hates me. I hate him.”

“You don’t hate him.” Tighnari, who had gone through these motions with Kaveh more times than he could say, rested his chin on his hand. “Just last month you were freaking out about what to get him for his birthday. People who hate each other don’t get gifts for each other’s birthdays.”

Kaveh shook his head. “It’s different for me. We live together. It’s in my best interest to satiate him.”

Tighnari sighed. “That man couldn’t care less about his birthday. Y’know, Cyno gave him a birthday card last year, and Alhaitham didn’t even realize it was for his birthday until two days later when he actually opened it. Apparently, he thought it was just the tab for the bar they went to the previous night…also for his birthday.”

Kaveh smiled-- that’s Alhaitham for you-- but quickly returned to a frown.

“So?”

“...So giving him a birthday gift feels like a poor way to ‘satiate’ him.”

Kaveh sighed. “Well, are there any better ways to ‘satiate’ Alhaitham?”

Tighnari stared blankly at Kaveh. Kaveh flushed and scowled at him.

“ Watch yourself. Besides, even if he does like me, what would I even do with that information?”

Tighnari held a hand to his mouth to conceal his smile. “What do you mean, ‘what do I do?’ You like him back, so tell him and he’ll reciprocate.”

Kaveh had half the mind to protest Tighnari’s assertion with a resounding, “ No I don’t. ” But neither Tighnari nor himself would've believed that.

Kaveh’s voice came out soft. “...And then what?”

“I don’t know. Be messy together, with your messy selves.” Tighnari shook his head. “It’s a relationship, not a job interview.”

But wasn’t it? What if Kaveh confessed and Alhaitham said no? What if Tighnari had been wrong? What if he himself was wrong? Was it worth the risk, even if it all went wrong? Kaveh thought back to Alhaitham’s face at the tavern, and he sighed.

“I think I love him.”

“ Good lord.” Tighnari held his face woefully in his outstretched hand. “I have never met someone so smart, yet so so so hopeless.”

“ Hey, ” Kaveh huffed. “I listen to you talk about all of your various troubles.”

“Yeah, except I’m perfect and normal.”

“Whatever you say.”

The two men sat there for a moment, saying nothing. Kaveh took another swig of his wine before putting it down. He gave Tighnari a sheepish grin. 

“...So. How’ve you been lately?”

Tighnari rolled his eyes, yet smiled.

Though to Tighnari’s credit, Kaveh did take his advice to heart.

Kaveh even had a plan. Keyword, “ had. ”

It fell apart, obviously, as all things tended to do for Kaveh, but he had one. It was dark out; colder than typical. Cold enough for Kaveh to use the weather as an excuse to make sachlav, a warm and sweet comfort drink he was fond of. And of course, Alhaitham just so happened to be home while he was making it. So obviously it would be polite if Kaveh made enough for him too. By the time Kaveh was done with the drinks, Alhaitham was sitting in the corner of one of the divans, reading a book. Kaveh gingerly put the two drinks on a tray and set them down across from Alhaitham on the coffee table. He, of course, continued to read his book--completely unbothered. The only source of light in the room was a lamp that sat right behind Alhaitham, and Kaveh stepped to dim it down in an effort to catch his attention. Without saying anything, Alhaitham raised his head to look at Kaveh. He sat down beside him, and immediately Alhaitham could tell that Kaveh was in a strange state of mind. He put the book beside him and sat up straighter.

 “I need to talk to you about something,” Kaveh said finally. “....That’s for you.”

Alhaitham followed his gaze to one of the cups of sachlav, and he leaned over to pick it up.

“...Thank you,” Alhaitham hummed, still alert.

Kaveh’s heart was racing, but he tried his best to mentally settle himself.

“I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” Kaveh continued, trying to get the basic stuff out of the way. “I…don’t think I’ve ever thanked you before.”

Alhaitham tilted his head but remained outwardly unfazed. “You’re welcome.”

Kaveh exhaled at the short answer and gave a small smile. Internally, however, his head felt like it was going to explode with stress.

“The thing is,” Kaveh sighed. “I’ve been trying to come to grips with how I feel. About this; about everything.”

Kaveh grimaced. “But, sometimes I don’t trust myself to be able to express how I feel. It never seems to come out right.”

The night of his thesis argument with Alhaitham sprung to his mind in a flash, and Kaveh felt another wave of apprehension. Hadn’t he rejected me then, too?

“Sometimes I sever ties that just need to be rewound,” Kaveh went on. “And I don’t want to do that again. Ever. ”

Though it could happen again. It could happen again right now.

Kaveh’s mind was beginning to turn against him, and he flashed a nervous smile to Alhaitham in an effort to show a confidence he did not have. Instead, Kaveh felt sick--lightheaded and nauseous--and his hands started to shake with a familiar anxiety.

He could get up and leave, completely forgo his planned confession, and pretend like nothing ever happened; pretend like everything was exactly how he wanted it to be. Yet, as Kaveh locked eyes with Alhaitham for the first time since the conversation began, he noticed that Alhaitham’s neutral expression had since melted into one of confusion and concern.

“Kaveh?” Alhaitham questioned as he searched the other man’s face. Kaveh himself didn’t even realize it, but he was quite visibly distressed. Alhaitham had zero idea why that was, and that made him uneasy.

Alhaitham’s gaze was soft. Yet, to Kaveh in the moment, it seemed scathing at best.

Kaveh wished that he had just held his tongue. It was clear that he was a mess. Even if Alhaitham didn’t see it at the tavern he would see it now. And Kaveh wondered if he was the exact type of mess that was better off being swept under the rug rather than cleaned up. 

Was Alhaitham also predestined to leave?

If Kaveh’s own mother wouldn’t stay for him--who would?

Kaveh covered his mouth, the little bit of resolve he had crumbling. Shame washed over him immediately; how many times was Alhaitham going to see him like this?

“Kaveh?” Alhaitham repeated, stress seeping into his voice. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t--” Kaveh stammered out. “ …I don’t know. ”

For once, Alhaitham was at a loss. Kaveh had always felt very deeply, that he knew for sure, but he’d never gotten quite this way before. For some reason, Alhaitham had a strange feeling that he was the one to blame for it. 

Alhaitham shifted his weight on his hip so that he could get closer to Kaveh, and he put a firm hand on his back in a feeble attempt to physically ground him.

At his touch, Kaveh straightened up and peered at Alhaitham through reddened eyes, his pupils searingly pin-prick.

“ Are you going to leave me? ”

The words left Kaveh in a flash, unable to be contained in his psyche any longer. His eyes desperately searched Alhaitham’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Alhaitham did hesitate, but only out of shock.

“...Leave you?” Alhaitham spoke slowly, his hand on Kaveh’s back was warm. “...Why would I leave you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Kaveh snapped. “What do I offer?”

Alhaitham leaned back at his sudden mood change, unsure of what to say.

“Well…what don’t you offer?”

At Alhaitham’s even words, Kaveh became hyper-aware of his erratic behavior, and he gripped his arm in an effort to calm himself. He took a deep breath, his outburst cooling down to shame.

“Stability for one thing. I can’t even have a simple conversation with you without flying off the handle.”

“We have many conversations without you ‘flying off the handle,’” Alhaitham retorted. “Kaveh, please. Obviously, there’s something else going on here. Just tell me--I can handle it.”

But could he? Kaveh looked away dejectedly, and Alhaitham sighed in realization.

“...I’m not as naive as I was back then,” Alhaitham continued. “Things shouldn’t have happened the way they did with our thesis. If you didn’t trust yourself to be able to express how you felt back then--neither did I. Whatever it is that you have to say, I know I can respond to it appropriately this time.”

Kaveh wanted to believe him but didn’t continue, so Alhaitham attempted to soothe him further.

“I’m not leaving either.” Alhaitham nudged into him a little bit. “...I don’t understand why I would. You could tell me that you hid a body in the Palace of Alcazarzaray and I wouldn’t leave you. Surely, whatever it is you have to say, isn’t worse than that?

Alhaitham’s words calmed Kaveh, and he gave a short laugh. “Was that an attempt at humor?”

“Maybe. Unless it turns out to be true.”

“I have a body I’d be willing to hide.”

“Mine?”

“You wish.” Kaveh pushed Alhaitham’s arm playfully. “You’d be too heavy for me to cart around.”

Alhaitham nodded, happy that Kaveh seemed to be returning to some semblance of normalcy, and took his hand off Kaveh’s back--who tried not to look disappointed.

Alhaitham stared at him intently, and Kaveh raised a brow.

“What?”

“Well?” Alhaitham questioned. “I urge you not to worm your way out of this one.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kaveh gave him a sheepish look. “You know, this conversation wasn’t supposed to go this way at all.”

Alhaitham took another sip of his drink. “I could tell.”

“Could you? Did you like the sachlav? I made it with you in mind.”

“It’s good. You put cinnamon in it.”

“I did.”

“Did you make it just to be nice? Or some ulterior motive?”

Kaveh scoffed. “Don’t talk to me of ulterior motives . ”

“Was there any motive at all?”

“I love you.”

The two men stared at each other as if they hadn’t been talking at all. Kaveh, who didn’t quite fully realize what he had just said, looked at Alhaitham as though he was the strange one for going quiet. Alhaitham blinked back, also not truly understanding what was just uttered.

The only word Alhaitham managed to force out was, unintentionally, rather crass.

“Really?”

Kaveh cocked his head. “Really what?”

“You love me,” Alhaitham repeated, a strange tone painting his voice. If Kaveh didn’t know any better, he almost sounded…exhilarated. 

“I said that?” The gears in Kaveh’s head all clicked into place at once. “I said that.”

Alhaitham stared wide-eyed at Kaveh in silence, and the earlier anxieties that Kaveh had temporarily pushed away started to resurface. He took a deep breath; he had no choice but to follow through now.

“I love you,” Kaveh affirmed, this time with an air of purposefulness. “I know it’s sudden, and I don’t mean to dump all of this on you at once, but I’ve felt this way for longer than I can admit.”

Without thinking, Kaveh reached out and grasped Alhaitham’s hand in his own. “To be honest, I’m not really sure what I hope to gain by telling you all of this. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings. Really, it’s fine. But I don’t think it would be fair to you if I never told you how I felt; I feel like eventually it would come up anyway.”

Kaveh wasn’t even looking at Alhaitham as he rattled on, fueled mostly by nervousness, as if he wasn’t ready for what Alhaitham’s response would be.

“Love is a very strong word, I know. But I think it’s the right word; well, for me it is. I care about you immensely--really I’ve always had. We’ve known each other for such a long time, and even though we haven’t always been on the best of terms, that feeling never really went away for me. I just wish I’ve been able to show you that more, but really I--”

“You think too much,” Alhaitham interrupted. “That’s what I like about you.”

Kaveh blinked at him. Like?

Before Kaveh could gear himself up for the rejection of a lifetime, Alhaitham leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“I love you too.”

That night seemed so long ago now.

They settled into a domestic routine with ease, as if they had both been subconsciously waiting for each other’s feelings to be brought forth. Kaveh looked back on those early courting days with a certain warmness; the memories themselves glowing gold with age. Things had felt so uncomplicated back then--so simple, so unblemished--that time whirled past with a blissful intensity.

It reminded Kaveh of his days as a student.

He and Alhaitham used to run around everywhere together: cafés, markets, gardens. They relished in each other’s company. A young Alhaitham would knock on a young Kaveh’s door late at night to hand him a combed-through copy of his paper for the next day's lecture, and they would stay up till sunrise discussing it. The next morning, Kaveh would practically overdose on caffeine while Alhaitham would choose to skip his classes to sleep in. Kaveh always felt guilty when he did so as if he was the one that forced the younger to miss out, but Alhaitham would always soothe his worries with a distraction--typically another late-night paper--and the cycle would continue.

Now they ran once again. They sauntered around in the hushed corridors of the Akademiya, stealing intimate moments from each other in private corners. They mused about things that only they would understand in humorless crowds. They spent late nights together in the House of Daena, doing nothing but sitting side-by-side, working on individual projects, and whispering to each other.

With age, Kaveh suspected that their antics back then may have been eye-rollingly annoying to those around them. If they were, it didn’t matter. Those memories are his and his alone now.

There was one evening in particular that stood out to Kaveh. Alhaitham’s office was freezing that day, and Kaveh frequently found himself having to stop sorting through files to blow warm air onto his hands. Kaveh hardly remembered what he was searching for, probably some blueprint. Alhaitham sat at his desk and read through a report. After Kaveh went through his fifth box of papers with no end in sight, he decided to give up.

Alhaitham’s office chair was large enough for two people to sit in it comfortably, and he scooched over and beckoned Kaveh to sit next to him. Kaveh readily obliged.

“No luck?” Alhaitham’s eyes were still glued to the report, but he moved to wrap his arm around Kaveh’s shoulders and pull him closer.

“No luck,” Kaveh affirmed. “I swear I can never find anything in this damn office of yours.”

Alhaitham hummed. “Surely you aren’t implying that’s any fault of mine.”

Organization is key,” Kaveh sighed. “Not that you were any help anyway.”

“You already know where everything is. I didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll look for it further tomorrow.” Alhaitham put the paper down and nuzzled his face into the crook of Kaveh’s neck. “I do have an organization system; it just fails sometimes.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes but stretched his neck to better accommodate him. They sat like that for a while, both feeling the other’s warmth against them until the cold of the office was nothing more than a distant memory. Kaveh let his eyes roam idly over Alhaitham’s desk, and he noticed the report he was reading had something to do with Deshret civilization. 

Kaveh raised his hand to run his fingers through Alhaitham’s hair.

“Haitham?”

Alhaitham hummed.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Alhaitham hummed again. 

“Are you sure? It’s weird.”

Kaveh felt the rumble in Alhaitham’s chest as he laughed and pressed his head closer to Kaveh’s collarbone.

“Ask away.”

Kaveh sighed. “Do you sometimes wish that you could forget?”

“Forget?”

Kaveh nodded.

“Forget what?”

Kaveh pulled away from Alhaitham to look at him, his fingers still interlaced in his hair.

“Anything.” Kaveh frowned. “Like, if you had the option to forget anything you wanted to in your life--would you take it?”

Alhaitham returned Kaveh’s stare. He studied Kaveh’s face with an intensity that made him flush.

“It’s not a super serious question.” Kaveh pecked the side of Alhaitham’s jaw in an effort to lighten the mood. “Just a hypothetical.”

“Do you have a certain situation in mind?” Alhaitham finally responded. “Something you’d like to forget?”

Kaveh internally grumbled at Alhaitham’s uncanny ability to see right through him. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’d like to forget it. I just wonder what would happen if I did. ” 

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow and Kaveh continued.

“For example: what if we woke up tomorrow with no memory of all that had happened between us up until a couple of months ago when we got together? Do you think we’d be a better couple because of it?”

Kaveh half expected Alhaitham to give a deeply profound and lengthy answer, but he just shook his head.

“No.”

“No?” Kaveh questioned. “Why not?”

“Well,” Alhaitham began. “Why would we ever want to do that?”

“Maybe it hurts too much to remember,” Kaveh grimaced. “I know for me personally, the way I treated you…”

Alhaitham sighed and straightened up, pulling Kaveh closer until he almost sat on his lap. Kaveh squeaked slightly in surprise.

“That’s hardly relevant,” Alhaitham huffed. “Besides, is it such a bad thing for memories to be unpleasant sometimes?”

Kaveh leaned back into Alhaitham’s chest. “I can’t say it’s a good thing either.”

“I guess it doesn’t have to be a good thing or a bad thing.” Alhaitham wrapped his arms tighter around Kaveh’s waist. “I believe that memories are just another form of knowledge, and knowledge can’t be good or bad, just purely neutral.”

Kaveh smiled. “Is that so?”

Alhaitham nodded. “Plus, I would never willingly give away any memories I have of you. Our past experiences, no matter how you view them, still allowed us to learn more about each other.”

Alhaitham’s hand reached up to turn Kaveh’s face toward his own, and he kissed him softly.

“I don’t think I could ever know enough about you.”

Kaveh whipped his face away in a feeble attempt to hide his embarrassment, his ego trying its hardest to pretend that he wasn’t profoundly touched by Alhaitham’s words. Kaveh could do a lot of things, but admitting that sometimes Alhaitham could be more romantic than him was not one of them.

“You’re such a sap,” Kaveh huffed.

Alhaitham smiled. “And you aren’t? Wasn’t my answer more than satisfactory?”

“B+ at most.”

“It’s well within my rights to file for an academic appeal.”

“Tell me how that works out for you,” Kaveh sighed. “Just hope you don’t lose it in your messy office.”

Alhaitham scoffed. “It’s not that messy.”

“It’s pretty damn messy.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

Alhaitham groaned and rested his chin on Kaveh’s shoulder, the air around them felt warm against the cool atmosphere of the office.

“If you want it to be messy so badly, we can make it messy.”

A particularly heavy burst of rain rattled the house, and Kaveh felt himself dragged out of the memory in an instant. His eyes and skin took a second to readjust to the dim and clammy room.

No sound was heard from the kitchen, and Kaveh figured that Ashra was done making whatever it was that she set out to create. The thought of his daughter made Kaveh’s chest ache with nausea, and his head swam with unsaid words to the girl. He sighed as he picked up the dingy wedding picture and slipped it back into its envelope. Kaveh put it back into the vanity and closed the drawer.

Kaveh had many other pieces of mail from Faranak too, mostly letters, although they weren’t accompanied by a picture and a special envelope. Instead, they resided in a wooden letterbox placed on his bedside table. It remained mostly untouched, even before Alhaitham’s death, and Kaveh only then occasionally used it as a coaster for cold drinks or a place to put his jewelry before bed. He had gotten it as a gift for his birthday.

Kaveh didn’t get many letters from his mother anymore. He thought it was because, somewhere along the way, Kaveh had stopped responding to them. It all felt so long ago.

Still desperate for a distraction, Kaveh walked over, picked up the dusty letter box from its place on the table, and sat down on the bed. The boxes' old hinges creaked as they opened, and its contents were noticeably worn with time. The letters felt chalky to the touch--a texture that Kaveh wasn’t all that fond of--and their edges were severely yellowed. 

As Kaveh sorted through them, a letter made of cardstock lined with a silver border caught his eye.

Congratulations!

The letter said in big bolded print on its front. Kaveh already had an inkling of what the letter was about when he carefully opened it.

Dear Kaveh,

I first heard about the wedding from a friend of a friend back in Sumeru. I almost didn’t believe it until I got your invitation! How exciting! I only wish we talked more; I admit it’s a bit pitiful that I was even blindsided by this at all. Regardless, I hope this man is amazing--he’d have to be if he managed to impress you. How did you two meet? I love a good story, so feel free to mention every little detail.

Things have been a-okay by me, although a bit slow. Theo and Annabelle just graduated secondary school, and we’ve organized a little get-together for them next week which I’m excited about. I bemoan the fact that there’s nothing like the Akademiya in Fontaine; I think the twins would’ve liked the challenge. Speaking of which, do you still have the necklace I sent over for your graduation all those years ago? I don’t know what you're planning to wear for the ceremony, but that necklace would certainly elevate your look no doubt. Annabelle is studying to be a jeweler, and I showed her a drawing I made of the necklace. She agreed with me. Just a thought!
To be completely transparent, I’m unsure if I’ll be able to make it to the wedding. Deadlines have been tighter than ever, and Gautier’s mother has been very ill recently. We’re unsure of how long she has left, and she and I have grown very close. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t there for her final breath. Especially since she’s the only parent Gautier has left.

Remember, to be married is to be a unit. Protect each other.

Love,

Your mother.

P.S. Attached to this letter you should find a check for 100,000 mora and an old sketch of a wedding chapel I drew back in school. I hope you like it; I remember being so proud of it when I was finished! Use it as inspiration if you’d like.

Kaveh had been disappointed when he first received it, but he tried his best to hide it as he set the letter down on the kitchen counter. He wasn’t surprised though, and a cynical part of him wondered if he were to be anyone else, and hosted his wedding in any other nation; his mother would’ve found a way to make time. Regardless, Kaveh penned a letter that night expressing his earnest hope for her attendance, health for her mother-in-law, and good tidings for her stepchildren. 

Faranak or not, the wedding would go on.

And go on it did.

His mother’s wedding had already been small, but theirs was smaller; containing only around twenty-five people in total. Neither Kaveh nor Alhaitham minded the size though, both of them agreed that the more intimate the gathering the better.

The day of the ceremony was a tad bit gloomy. Clouds rolled in and cast thin lines of escaping sun onto the venue, outside just as his mother’s had been. Kaveh had to admit that going to her wedding--as dazed as he felt back then--had offered amazing inspiration. Ever so often a soft breeze would carry thin water droplets through the air and paint them over everything that it touched, cascading the world in pin-prick crystals.

Alhaitham enjoyed the overcast; the distant earthy smell of rain and the quietness it brought. Kaveh remained less convinced. Many of the decorations he toiled away at were wooden, and the creeping humidity made him anxious about how they’d fare. Kaveh had put varnish over them that was supposed to be weatherproof, but was it enough? He could apply another coat, but that ran the risk of them not being dry in time for the ceremony. What if a guest touched them and they got it all over themselves? Is wood varnish toxic to skin? Kaveh knows it’s flammable; what if it somehow catches on fire? With the weather that shouldn’t be an issue, but would the rain make the varnish runny? Would that destroy the decorations?

“Just enjoy yourself,” Alhaitham said the night before the wedding as he planted a tentative kiss to the side of Kaveh’s head; the latter who’d been anxiously ranting about every possible thing that could go wrong.

“I’ll enjoy myself if the world lets me enjoy myself,” he huffed back.

The wedding came and went, and none of Kaveh’s worries came to fruition. It didn’t even rain--the day just stayed at a delightful coolness. The decor remained unharmed and unrotted by the moisture. Collei even tripped into a centerpiece and knocked it over, and it suffered not a single scratch, although the poor girl felt a tad bit mortified for the rest of the evening. There was no skin poisoning either; no fire, no runny varnish, no other tragic event. With each passing second, Kaveh could feel his previous unease lessening until he had not a single thought in his mind but his pleasure with the wedding itself, and his wish that it would never end.

However, there was one thing that didn’t happen that Kaveh wanted it to.

The midday gray skies had faded into a dark blue sunset and then faded into a jet-black night by the time Kaveh had the freedom to look around the venue and mingle with all who attended.

It was then that Kaveh realized that his mother wasn’t there.

The awareness struck him instantly, and a sinking feeling settled deeply into his stomach. She didn’t come, Kaveh thought crisply as he sat down on a lone chair at the edge of the lot. Was he to be surprised? He absolutely wasn’t, and there was a hollowness that came with that realization. Maybe, he was to be more disappointed in himself that he didn’t notice her absence until a few minutes ago. He’d even forgotten to wear the necklace.

Kaveh must’ve sat there for a couple moments too long because after a while he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“She didn’t come,” Kaveh stated blankly.

“She didn’t,” Alhaitham affirmed.

He moved a chair to sit next to him, and Kaveh let out a curt and disbelieving exhale.

“...Do you know why?” Alhaitham asked. “Did she explain?”

Kaveh shook his head. “No. Well, not officially. She said that she had things going on back home, and she wasn’t sure she could make it. But she didn’t say ‘ no. ’”

“Were any of the ‘things back home’ more important than her son’s wedding?”

“ Alhaitham,” Kaveh warned. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Any further comments Alhaitham may have had were immediately quelled.

“I’m sorry.”

Kaveh sighed and turned to hold Alhaitham’s gaze, his eyes softening. “Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault; or my fault, or my mother’s fault. Life is hard. It’s complicated. That’s all there is to it.”

Kaveh wasn’t sure how much he meant his words, but saying them aloud soothed his conscience a bit more.

“You know,” Kaveh continued. “I didn’t even think of them once today until now. My parents.”

The night was cold and the stars were clear.

“Isn’t that horrible?” Kaveh asked Alhaitham, his vision slightly swimming with exhaustion. “How can I judge her as a mother, if I fail her as a son?”

“I think you’re in an impossible situation,” Alhaitham responded, sympathy lacing his words. “I’m not sure how you could even be a ‘ good ’ son to Faranak, nevertheless a ‘ horrible ’ one.”

Kaveh could think of many ways he could’ve been better to Faranak; could’ve been good. Yet at each turn, he failed. Do good sons get their fathers killed? Hell, Kaveh couldn’t even find the time or the energy to simply respond to her letters more often than not.

Kaveh rubbed the sides of his face. “Did you think of your grandmother?”

“...Yes.” Alhaitham seemed hesitant to respond. “But that’s not unusual for me. I think of her at least once most days.”

“Good. At least one of us is doing it right.”

“We aren’t the same people,” Alhaitham sighed. “There’s no moral obligation to pull thoughts out of thin air.”

“Isn’t there?” Kaveh grimaced. “Sure, maybe it’s not morally wrong for me not to have thought about them. But can’t you admit that it’s strange?”

Kaveh craned his neck to look up at the sky. “It’s my own wedding. In a perfect world, both of them would be here.”

“But they’re not, and you hate yourself for being okay with it?”

Kaveh looked back down to Alhaitham and gave him a blank stare.

“I’ve accepted it,” Kaveh responded. “I’m tired of pretending like I’m okay with it.”

The moon was covered by a sea of clouds, gray with night. The wind had a bit of a bite to it now, and Kaveh shuddered when a gust hit his skin. He rested his head on Alhaitham’s shoulder, partly in a silent repentance for their tiny argument, and partly to share his warmth. Alhaitham returned the gesture readily.

“I don’t think I’ll ever come to grips with how I feel about my parents.” Kaveh’s voice was barely a whisper now. “If that’s the case, I should probably stop wasting my energy thinking about it.”

“Think about it as much or as little as you need to,” Alhaitham affirmed.

“Certainly right now I need to sequester my mind.” Kaveh gave a small smile. “I’m too tired. Call me biased, but our wedding was the best wedding I’ve ever been to.”

His bold statement rised a tiny laugh out of Alhaitham, and he nudged Kaveh’s shoulder slightly.

“Are you saying that because you’re glad you got married to me, or because you designed half the venue?”

“I see no reason why it can’t be both.”

After the wedding, life moved fast.

Kaveh always liked things as quick and efficient as possible, but hindsight is 20/20, and now he found himself wishing for nothing more than for those years to have slowed down, to have been properly savored. The passage of time snuck up on Kaveh in the middle of Alhaitham’s birthday once, when the man remarked that his disinterest in birthdays was partly due to them becoming more and more of a reminder of how old he was getting.

“I’m older than you,” Kaveh stated blankly, as though it was a realization that hit him for the first time.

“I could tell.”

Kaveh scoffed and bumped Alhaitham’s shouldler with his own, his furrowed brows betrayed a sense of playfulness. Alhaitham allowed himself a small smile before dropping it back to familiar neutrality.

“You’re not old,” Alhaitham affirmed, as though he could sense Kaveh’s insecurity. 

Kaveh sighed. “Too old to function.”

“I’m only two years younger than you; what does that say about me?”

“Good question. I think you already know the answer.” Kaveh smiled. “I suppose there’s no reason to sulk about it; there’s a privilege in growing older. I just could do without the laugh lines.”

“Not noticeable at all.”

“And if they were?”

“Then I’d tell you they were. Yet, I’d still have zero problem with it.” Alhaitham shook his head. “How many times must we have this conversation?” 

Kaveh raised a brow. “I thought you liked debating things with me?”

“I won’t debate things about your body. There’s nothing to debate about it.”

“I’d say this debate is more about my perception of reality.”

Alhaitham hummed. “Perceive your reality better.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes but shrugged the statement off quickly. Perhaps they weren’t that noticeable yet, but the laugh lines were still definitely there. They had seemed to form overnight, or maybe rather they established themselves subtly enough to cement themselves firmly with little detection until it was too late. It was hard to tell; especially when Kaveh’s prime conversationalist was unwilling to talk. Alhaitham flipped through a book that Kaveh got him about some sort of long-dead sign language that used to be practiced in Sal Vindagynr, and he realized just how surprising it was that they were here sitting together at all.

“Things change fast--that’s for sure.” Kaveh rested his chin on his hand.

Alhaitham nodded in agreement, his eyes still glued to the book’s pages.

“I could do with it going a little slower,” he continued.

“Slow is nice. Though, I’d rather change go by fast than have none at all.” Alhaitham dog-eared the page he was on and closed the book. “...If only for your sake.”

“My sake?” Kaveh questioned.

“You’d go insane if you were stuck in a state where nothing changes at all,” Alhaitham said. “I, on the other hand, might be more okay with it.”

It was true. Kaveh never liked to be anchored down, especially by something as invisible as progress itself. Perhaps, if he really was complacent with stasis, he’d still be working in his room alone, too afraid to confront Alhaitham on anything meaningful, nonetheless his feelings.

“I guess I agree, but that doesn’t explain my uneasiness with the speed in which things are moving.”

Alhaitham gave him a soft smile. “It’s certainly complicated.”

Kaveh sat deep in thought for a while. The sound of crickets rang from outside, rhythmically and sharp, yet constant. He sighed.

“Stability. I just want stability,” Kaveh decided finally. “I just think it’s harder to be stable in fast-moving environments as opposed to slow ones; regardless of my preference for them.”

“Maybe. Though stability looks different for everyone,” Alhaitham responded.

Kaveh nodded. “Have you ever read the storybook about the penguin who spent so much time swimming in the choppy waves that he felt dizzy on land? It’s kinda like that.”

“...No. But it seems like that penguin was onto something.”

“Believe me, he was,” Kaveh affirmed. “My father used to read that book to me all the time when I was younger. I would hardly let him put it down.”

Kaveh smiled softly, a tinge of sadness lacing his words. “I must’ve driven him crazy.”

“I’m sure he also enjoyed it. If I had a kid, I would.”

“Really?”

“Sure,” Alhaitham continued. “I see no reason why your dad wouldn’t have liked the bonding experience.”

Kaveh shook his head. “No, I meant--you’d enjoy reading to a kid?”

“Well, yes,” Alhaitham said. “I think language is a valuable thing to pass down; especially to one of your own. I admit, it’s something I’ve thought about.”

“Do you--?” Kaveh stopped himself before he could finish the thought. “Well, maybe that’s a question for another day.”

Alhaitham said nothing, but his eyes betrayed him as being deep in thought. A cup of coffee that Kaveh brewed just a few moments before lay neglected on the kitchen counter, and he walked over to retrieve it. It was a tad bit cold, but it still smelled strongly of cardamom.

“What does stability look like to you, then?” Kaveh asked quietly.

“Look around you.”

The house was silent now.

Kaveh strained his ears to listen for any sound outside the room; any proof of Ashra’s wellbeing. He didn’t stop until he heard her cough, all of his tenseness releasing at once. She’s still here, Kaveh was relieved to think. Alive. The fact that he was sitting in his bedroom sulking while she was out there alone hit him suddenly, and another wave of self-reproach crashed over his being.

What the hell was he doing?

Ashra was ten years old now, with rusty eyes and mousy blunt-cut hair, still grieving the loss of her father; doing so unattended. Kaveh hardly had the strength to look at her these days. He didn’t feel like a person--much less a parent. It was clear that his grief upset her too, and that made Kaveh queasy and unsure.

And Alhaitham--it had been months since Kaveh last saw him--and a desperate part of himself still waits to see him walk through the front door, just as he always did. He was his spouse, yes, but he was much more than that to Kaveh. He was security, an understanding voice, someone who took his concerns seriously when even he couldn’t, and another outlook to make sense of the world.

Alhaitham was his best friend, and he couldn’t do anything to help him.

And that hurt; Kaveh knew it would hurt. How could it not? But how could he possibly get over it? Kaveh’s eyes threatened to burn again with tears, and he half-haphazardly rummaged his hands through the letterbox again to distract himself.

The next letter he pulled out was slightly different from the rest. It was baby pink and engraved with flowers that were raised off the card to give it texture. The script inside was written yet again in the tell-tale loopy handwriting of his mother, although this time it smelt of rainbow roses.

Dear Kaveh,

When I first received your letter, I just about went into shock.

But it’s true, isn’t it? Lord, I really can’t express how excited I am for you! Ashra is a beautiful name; I used to have a colleague named that and I always thought it was so gorgeous! I’m sure she’s very cute too. Call that a mother’s intuition.

I remember when I first had you; I was terrified. It’s a big change. Although one that I would never come to regret, for you are always at the forefront of my mind. Funnily enough, Annabelle and her husband just announced their pregnancy; so I’ll be pretty grandchilded out. Perhaps you can write Annie some tips? I’ve been spending most of my waking hours comforting her; the poor girl is a nervous wreck.

More than anything, I hope that the years to come will be everything that you wish for. I also hope that you bring Ashra over to Fontaine soon so I can see her. I’ve been bringing her up non-stop to Gautier, and he wants to meet her too. How’s your husband doing? I’d imagine this is a big change for him as well.

If you need me, you know where to find me!

Love,

Your mother.

Kaveh was in bed when he first read the letter, his eyes blurred and his body aching from the lack of sleep that comes from having a newborn. The moment he finished it, he sighed loudly and held his head in his hands. This time he didn’t bother hiding his disappointment, and Alhaitham, who had been resting beside him, slowly sat up and looked expectantly at Kaveh.

Kaveh handed Alhaitham the letter and answered the unasked question. “Read this.”

Alhaitham’s eyes scanned the letter for a short moment before he handed it back.

“She’s very adamant on not coming to Sumeru.”

“ You think?” Kaveh huffed as he took back the letter and discarded it on his nightstand. “I just don’t understand.”

Alhaitham opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off.

“ We have a literal newborn. I can’t just pack it up and take a quick trip to Fontaine! What are the logistics of that?” Kaveh snapped, trying his hardest to keep his voice down, as Ashra was sleeping in a bassinet beside them. “It’s insane trying to get anywhere with a baby; she wants us to take a seven-hour boat ride?”

Alhaitham quickly gave up on talking and nodded along.

“I don’t want her to think I don’t care enough, but I honestly don’t see us going anywhere long-distance anytime soon. It’s easier for her to travel, so why doesn’t she just come here?”

Kaveh clicked his tongue and leaned back against the headboard, although his face was still troubled; a clear sign that he was continuing his rant in his mind. Just as Alhaitham was finished coming up with words to say, Kaveh sighed and sat back up.

“Well. She is getting older.” Kaveh rubbed his eyes. “I think I’m being too hard on her.”

Alhaitham shook his head. “We need to do what we think is best right now. I think we can both agree that means no long-distance travel.”

His gaze fell on Kaveh. “...And I can tell just by your expression that you’re already working out how you can get Ashra over to Fontaine as quickly as possible. Stop it.”

“I just feel so bad for her. She’s had a hard life; how can I dispute that?”

It was often like this for Kaveh and his mother. His feelings for her changed as rapidly as they came up. Whenever he felt himself get even a little bit angry at her, he’d quickly be overcome by guilt.

In an effort to stop Kaveh from spiraling further into his thoughts, Alhaitham changed the subject.

“Did you have anything else to eat today besides that fig you had this morning?”

Kaveh allowed himself to be distracted. “...No. I don’t think so.”

“You need to eat,” Alhaitham said as he moved to roll out of the bed. “I’m making you something.”

“Haitham, please. It’s alright, I can get something for myself.”

“You stayed up all night; you’re in no condition for labor.”

Kaveh silently resented that last comment, but watched Alhaitham get off the bed with no more fight.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Alhaitham turned to say something to Kaveh but was interrupted by a sudden cough, followed by several more. By the time he was done with his fit, his throat ached and Kaveh looked at him with a brow raised. It’s a miracle he didn’t wake the baby.

“...Are you sure that you’re in any condition for labor? This cough of yours is pretty chronic, isn’t it? You’ve had it all month.”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham assured with a slight wheeze. “My throat has just been dry.”

Kaveh narrowed his eyes. “Doctor?”

“Working on it.” Alhaitham turned to walk out of the bedroom. “I don’t know if I told you this, but I’ve recently undergone a major life change. It might take me a while to make an appointment.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes and smiled. “Very funny. Don’t take too long. Now that you’ve mentioned it; I am quite hungry.”

Ashra didn’t stay a baby forever.

But Kaveh never really found an opportunity to take her to Fontaine either. After a while, he stopped thinking about his mother’s request entirely.

Alhaitham took to parenthood well. He was older now; less sharp both in body and personality, but not mind, and he found himself spending more and more time at home. As Ashra aged, her intellect did too, and it was then that company proved the most satisfying to her parents. Kaveh had to admit that Faranak had been right: Ashra was one choice that he’d never come to regret. Perhaps, at the time, he couldn’t fathom how much he’d come to love her.

Family became normal at some point; a second nature. 

Soon, Kaveh couldn’t imagine a world in which he came back late at night and didn’t see Ashra and Alhaitham reading together in the study; just as he said he would. Ashra liked to read--or rather she liked to listen--and as her father’s even voice droned on, she would have a notepad next to her that she used to doodle what she thought the characters in the stories looked like. A trait that Kaveh found Kshahrewaran, but Alhaitham would insist was more Haravatat in nature.

“It’s design,” Kaveh would say. “She’s designing things.”

“Using semiotics,” Alhaitham would argue back. “If a character is described as being free-spirited and hopeful: she’ll draw them with a bird-like appearance.”

“Using semiotics in physical design! I do that too, as do all the other people in my Darshan.”

Yet when asked about it directly, Ashra would have a less convoluted response.

“I gave her pink hair because she’s said to be pretty, and pink is a pretty color,” she’d say. “Purple is also pretty, so I gave her purple eyes.”

And that was the end of it.

Alhaitham was free in the afternoons, so after picking her up from school, he and Ashra would walk around the city together. There was one such occasion where they happened to pass by a traveling street vendor who sold clothes, and Ashra was encouraged to pick out something for herself…although all she wanted to do was take pictures of the stock to save for design inspiration later. Eventually, she picked out a piece from Mondstadt.

When Kaveh came home that night, Ashra was casually seated on one of the divans. She wore a brown cardigan made of lumpy yet soft fabric. Tiny pastel pom poms were etched into its surface.

Alhaitham liked it a lot but somewhat speculated that Kaveh wouldn’t be as impressed. On the contrary, the minute Kaveh saw it, he looked at Alhaitham and gave a self-congratulatory smile.

“My child can pull off any look she damn well desires. She gets that from me, you know.”

It was hard to disagree, and Kaveh would go on to say that her unique fashion taste came solely from him dressing her when she was younger.

 Kaveh thought that Ashra’s interest in design was wonderful. Although it wasn’t architecture, it was still something blithely creative. Whenever he got the chance, Kaveh would buy thick Fontainian fashion magazines at the market so they could go through them together. They’d circle the outfits they liked best, or discuss why certain styles were completely impractical. Afterward, Ashra would cut out her favorite articles and pin them to a corkboard she had in her room. Kaveh would often ask her if she wanted to become a fashion designer when she was older, or maybe a character designer, and Ashra would tilt her head.

“I don’t know,” she’d say. “But I’d take any job that gave me enough money to adopt a cat.”

Ashra liked to insinuate things rather than ask for them directly, and Kaveh would smile.

“I’ll think about it. No promises.”

That always seemed to be a good enough answer for her. Though, all the “FOR SALE” flyers for cats Kaveh would always find spontaneously appearing on his vanity seemed to suggest an impatience. Ashra would deny any involvement.

She was quite an understanding girl though, she seemed to be since the moment she could talk. 

Ashra was fond of dolls, or any other type of figure she could make a story with. Kaveh often wasn’t around to see her play with them during the day, but when he was, he noticed that she was very quiet. Kaveh never understood why, and when he finally asked her, she just shrugged.

“Dad doesn’t like loud noises.”

Kaveh supposed that was true, but he still raised a brow. “Oh. Did he ask you to stay quiet?”

Ashra shook her head. “No. I just noticed. If I’m too loud, he puts those things on.”

“His headphones?” Kaveh questioned. “You know Ashra, if you want to play loud--play loud. Those things are supposed to be sound-resistant. He can accommodate you.”

“Yeah, but,” Ashra pouted. “If he has them on, then he can’t hear anything else like the birds chirping, or the wind, or a stray cat scratching on our door because they want a family. It doesn’t seem fair.”

Kaveh was impressed at how seamlessly Ashra managed to slip her cat obsession in, and he smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind her hair.

“That’s very kind of you. But still, if you ever want to be loud--he’ll understand.”

Ashra nodded, but Kaveh had a feeling that she wasn’t planning on changing anytime soon.

As a part of their nighttime routine, Alhaitham and Kaveh would often stay up together in the living room and talk about any topic that they could think of; not wanting to retire yet and miss fleeting moments of each other’s company. One night, after they all got home from that year’s Sabzeruz Festival, their conversation of choice fell onto Ashra.

“That’s why she’s more receptive to me.”

“...You think she’s more receptive to you?”

Alhaitham’s tired eyes seemed to light up at the budding promise of an argument. He took another sip of coffee before setting it down.

“Well, speaking of obvious things…”

An amused laugh interrupted Alhaitham’s train of thought, and he looked over to see the corners of Kaveh’s mouth curving into a smile. He looked Alhaitham up and down as if assessing how brash he could be without excessive insult.

“Huh. I’m happy you feel that way.”

“My evaluation is much more than a feeling. It’s more of a…justified true belief.”

“ A justified true belief? ” Kaveh scoffed. “Are you gonna pull out a valid argument table on me, too?”

Alhaitham hummed into his coffee. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Not for the world.” Kaveh crossed his arms. “Besides, I think a ‘justified true belief’ needs to be, well, justified. Do you have any evidence for your claim?”

“Of course,” Alhaitham retorted. “I have evidence.”

“Really? Sources and all? I only accept citations from peer-reviewed texts, by the way.”

“Thankfully I have a lovely spouse who can provide his personal anecdote.”

“You seem very confident that your ‘lovely spouse’ will back up your claim,” Kaveh huffed. “Remember, junior, it’s important to make sure that your sources don’t accidentally derail the point you’re trying to make.”

Just as Alhaitham was about to respond, Ashra patted into the living room. She clung to a blanket and her eyes drooped with sleep.

“Ashra? You alright?” Kaveh slid off his chair and walked over to the girl. “What’s wrong?”

Ashra yawned as she rubbed her eyes with her forearm. “The festival.”

The Sabzeruz Festival was on its last legs but still had enough energy to be decently loud. Kaveh frowned, feeling somewhat guilty that he had been enjoying the distant sounds of activity.

“Our room has thicker walls, it’ll be quieter there.”

“I don’t need it to be quiet,” Ashra responded bluntly. “I need it to be less… thrumbley. ”

Kaveh looked back at Alhaitham in hopes that he knew what the word “thrumbley” meant in Ashra lingo. Alhaitham nodded at the girl in understanding.

“The bass,” he stated. “You don’t like the bass.”

Ashra groaned and gripped her blanket tighter to her side. “It feels like someone’s punching my chest.”

Kaveh leaned down and pulled Ashra onto his hip to better comfort her. She clung irritably onto him, pressing her hot cheek into the crook of his neck.

“Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do.” Alhaitham gave Ashra a sympathetic look. “Sound is vibration, and vibration is sound. Bass frequencies are quite large, so we would need an equally large absorption medium to deal with them. We don’t have anything that can do that on hand.”

Kaveh internally sighed at Alhaitham’s lengthy jargon to an upset child, but Ashra seemed to understand. A particularly deep bass bump caused her to dig further into Kaveh’s neck.

“It hurts,” she whined.

At her distress, Alhaitham got up from his place on the divan and walked over to the pair. He rubbed Ashra’s back in gentle circles.

“Other than the…thrumbleyness…of it; is there anything else you don't like about the bass?”

“It’s repetitive. I don’t like repetitive things,” Ashra sniffed. “I can’t focus on sleeping if I can’t stop anticipating the pattern.”

Alhaitham and Kaveh glanced at each other, neither sure of what to do. Just as Kaveh had half the mind to suggest leaving the city for the night, Alhaitham spoke once more.

“You need a distraction.”

Alhaitham spread his arms and reached for Ashra, scooping her off Kaveh’s side. She exchanged hands with no fuss, and that made Alhaitham hum with contentment. Although, Kaveh couldn’t help but notice that he looked like he was struggling to find the strength to keep Ashra upright. A worrying observation, but one that would have to be expressed later.

“Why don’t we finish the story we started the other day?” Alhaitham asked. “We could put on our own music as well. It won’t completely block out the bass, but it may detract from its impact.”

“The one with the penguin?” Ashra questioned.

Alhaitham nodded, and Ashra perked up right away.

“Now?”

“Of course.”

Kaveh watched as Alhaitham turned around and carried the girl to the study. Though he was somewhat abashed to admit, Kaveh found nothing sweeter than seeing the two get along; not that it was hard for them to do so. The light and sentimental feeling in Kaveh’s chest was suddenly undercut by a sly and over-the-shoulder grin from Alhaitham.

“I want that personal anecdote on my desk by tomorrow evening.”

Kaveh didn’t even know he was crying until he passively wiped his cheek only to find it wet.

With the realization, it was almost like he became hyper-aware of all the aches and pains of his body all at once. The raw sting of his cheeks, the hollowness of his empty stomach, his oily hair, his uneven fingernails, the dull pain in his joints; everything. Everything that seemed to never be a problem for him before Alhaitham died. Everything that Kaveh had the power to fix, but never the motivation.

And of course, there was the guilt.

Guilt was Kaveh’s favorite emotion. It was the part of his brain that he was the most intimate with; a familiarity that has been planted since childhood. The muse of his guilt now was but a simple question: what could Kaveh have done to be better?

A better friend, a better spouse, a better person. 

Guilt made itself seem like it had the power to change the past, as if all the shame could swirl up and take things back to how they once were. Guilt shows alternate possibilities, but never delivers them. It’s just a cruel reminder that Kaveh could’ve been better but missed his opportunity.

There was anger too. 

Of course, Kaveh was angry at the world, but mostly Kaveh was angry at himself. He felt it right to be livid at both things at once. Livid at the world for cursing him with inescapable bad luck, and livid at himself for roping Alhaitham into his curse in the first place. Perhaps, if they never got together, he’d still be alive. There was no answer to this hypothetical, and Kaveh was angry at that too.

The shared language between them was dead now; Kaveh found himself left with the remnants of a puzzle that could never be completed. It was the destruction of so much: dreams, jokes, memories. Kaveh could almost laugh at how much he felt like he didn’t know about Alhaitham, even after all they’ve been through. Some parts of him were hidden from Kaveh, only now there was truly no way to ever expose them.

Kaveh never could quite figure him out.

And there was Ashra, too. In his mind, Kaveh couldn’t have parented her worse in these past months even if he tried. Kaveh had watched her anguish over her late father turn into worry about him, as if he was the one to be most pitied. Kaveh had been too afraid to talk to her about her feelings, as though he could somehow make her feel worse, and Ashra was left to her own devices. She read alone in the study, and Kaveh often passed by her. He wondered many times if he should sit down and read aloud with her like she was used to, but the fear of accidentally overstepping forbade him.

What’s worse, is that he knew exactly how she felt.

Kaveh had been the one to sit outside his mother’s door and listen to her cry for hours on end. He refused to go to bed unless he could assure himself that she was okay. He would wait until she fell asleep, praying that she would find peace in her dream; that one day she would wake up and they could enjoy each other’s presence again, just like how things used to be.

But that never happened.

She left. She left all the reminders of her husband behind, all the memories they shared, all the things they’ve made together. That included Kaveh. At the time, he convinced himself to be happy for her, and he didn’t cry--not even once--until he watched her boat sail away from Bayda Harbor and he was sure that she couldn’t see him anymore.

But the weight of his mother’s departure hung off him constantly. Smothering and bleak, Kaveh couldn’t help but feel like he was the reason she left. And now, after all that has happened--his wedding, his daughter’s birth, his husband's death--she still wouldn’t come back. And if that wasn’t because of him, then what? What was the magical phrase or action that Kaveh had to perform to make it all better? To quell his mother’s sorrow enough for her to return to him? Even after all these years--he still doesn’t know, and that’s been a question he’s been asking since his father’s death.

Kaveh hated her for it.

He hated his mother for making him hate her, even though he loved her so much. It hurt to admit, but despite the countless nights Kaveh spent staring at the ceiling, convincing himself that he understood why Faranak had to leave, he never once thought he’d ever follow her example.

Yet he cried behind a closed door, and Ashra was on the other side of it.

Maybe, Kaveh thought through his tears, she’d be better off without me.

The idea hit Kaveh with such an intensity, that he could’ve sworn his vision swam a bit. Would she be better off without me? Would she be better off without a parent who did nothing but feel sorry for himself? Who ran their lives into the ground the moment something went astray? Kaveh wiped his eyes again and looked out the stormy window. Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe the best thing to do was to leave.

To forget.

Faranak sent a letter when she heard of Alhaitham’s death, too.

However, instead of being put in the letter box, it had resided torn to shreds at the bottom of a waste bin in the kitchen; its only purpose was to occasionally waft the fragrance of its scented ink through the house. It had sat there for two months until Ashra clumsily took the trash out to the curb one night, tired of looking at all the used things nobody had the motivation to put away.

It had read:

Dear Kaveh,

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw the obituary.

I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid that, even if I did, it would do nothing to aid you. Just know: I will always be thankful to all the people in your life who serve and served as companions to you. It makes me incredibly happy to know that my son has people to care for him, especially in a time such as this.

Everything happens for a reason.

How is Ashra doing? Tell her that I found the sketch of the dress you sent over a while ago very pretty. She has a wonderful future ahead of her. Even though I’ve never met her, I feel as though she’s exactly like you in many ways.

Be kind to yourself, Kaveh. 

Remember, If you need me, I’ll be right here. All you need to do is reach out.

Love,

Your mother.

The moment Kaveh was done reading the letter, he tore it up. He felt like he could scream, like every word that she had penned was written to spite him. Still, even still, Faranak would not come to Sumeru. She would not be meeting her grandchild. She would not be offering her son any physical support. She would not even admit that she knew what it felt like to lose a husband too. For once, Kaveh felt completely at odds with her.

And the worst part was that he didn’t even have someone to help talk him down from his anger.

He was alone with his fury and grief.

Well, not completely.

People came and went. They brought meals, cards, flowers, photos, or sometimes just words of sympathy. Kaveh wished he was less dazed during the height of this activity, so that he could properly assign gratitude to faces, but everything moved so quickly, and his shock dulled his senses. Other than he and Ashra’s very close friends, the only other person Kaveh remembered coming was one of Alhaitham’s grandmother’s colleagues from back when she was still alive. She was around ninety, and she knocked on their front door one day with a kind yet sorrowful expression on her face. She gave Kaveh an old picture of Alhaitham as a child sitting on his grandmother's lap, his expression as blank as it had been when he was an adult. She thought it best if Kaveh had it instead.

She was right, it helped ground Kaveh a lot.

He was in complete shock those first few weeks. The only thing Kaveh remembered clearly was his head cradled in Tighnari’s lap on one of the divans as the man spoke softly to Cyno, who in turn was busy writing letters. Kaveh knew they were helping with something, he was just too out of it to realize what. 

It wasn’t until Tighnari woke him up early to go to Alhaitham’s funeral one morning, did Kaveh fully realize he was dead.

At night, Kaveh would cling onto Ashra as if she was going to leave too. Ashra would return the embrace, no doubt having the same feeling in mind. Eventually, Kaveh worried that he was suffocating her with his presence, and he moved to sleep by himself. Ashra had been too scared to tell him that this disappointed her.

Kaveh only had one last good memory of Alhaitham before his death.

They sat in bed together one afternoon. It was the weekend, and Ashra was off to hang out with some friends, so they were alone. Alhaitham had slept the whole morning--an unusual bout of exhaustion had hit him at work the previous day--but he managed to stay awake just long enough to air his concerns with Kaveh.

“She thought I was ignoring her.” Alhaitham talked evenly, but his words had a certain hollowness to them--as if he was struck to the core.

“So you aren’t wearing them in the house anymore?” Kaveh idly rubbed his partner’s back. “You need them for sensory.”

“She thought I was ignoring her,” Alhaitham restated, this time more matter-of-factly.

Kaveh flashed him a smile. “Hey. She’ll live.”

“I want her to feel like she’s being listened to,” Alhaitham continued. “She asked me the same question five times before I realized she was talking to me.”

“I told her before that your headphones were noise-resistant,” Kaveh reasoned. “I promise you, she wasn’t offended at all.”

Alhaitham shook his head. “I’d still feel better if I didn't wear them in the house. What if she slipped and hurt herself, and I couldn’t hear?”

Kaveh found in enduring that both Ashra and Alhaitham seemed to worry about the same things in their free time, and he gave a firm pat to Alhaitham’s back.

“Well. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Kaveh sighed and leaned back on the bed. “Seriously though; Ashra wasn’t mad at you for not hearing her.”

Alhaitham frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Kaveh affirmed. “You’re like her best friend.”

Alhaitham said nothing, but it was clear from his face that he felt proud at Kaveh’s last statement.

“Regardless,” Alhaitham continued. “The headphones are being retired for a while.”

Kaveh rolled over on his side to face him. “Wow. Even I couldn’t have gotten you to do that. You’re getting soft.”

Alhaitham opened his mouth as if to deny his claim, but shut it, finding no more true words left to give to the dispute. He simply moved goalposts.

“You’ve gotten soft too. Dare I say well before me.”

Kaveh raised a brow. “Really? Do tell.”

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Alhaitham mused. “I know what I’ve seen.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes yet snuggled closer to Alhaitham. “Example.”

“For example…” Alhaitham thought silently for a moment before continuing. “You haven’t brought up your mother for a while.”

“...What does that have to do with anything?” Kaveh shot him a glare but seemed curiously amused. “Unless by ‘soft,’ you mean developing early onset dementia.”

Alhaitham shook his head. “Forgive my observation, but you only talk about Faranak when you’re in an unforgiving mood--especially when it comes to Ashra.”

“That’s just slander,” Kaveh huffed, even though he knew it was true. “So what’s the point?”

“The point is: I think you’re beginning to understand that you’re pretty good at this ‘family’ thing. Old Kaveh would never dare think that.”

If Alhaitham saw him now, he’d understand why Kaveh was so apprehensive about the idea that he “changed” in any way. The only reason why he was sitting alone in his bedroom was because he was abhorrent at the “family” thing.

Kaveh had proved that a couple of hours ago with Ashra.

It was true that Kaveh always had a natural “inclination” for alcohol. It certainly wasn’t as bad as it was when he was younger, but it still managed to be a… noticeable …pastime of his. Yet, after Alhaitham passed away, Kaveh had to admit that it became a little more than perceptible. He had always made sure to hide it as much as possible from Ashra though. He didn’t want to make her make her more anxious than she already was.

Well, at least Kaveh thought he hid it from her.

It happened in the afternoon. Kaveh woke up on a divan and sat up, his head pounding. He could do nothing but sit there and try to ride out the pulsing waves of pain that crashed his body all at once. It was an acute type of sensation, and Kaveh thought he was getting a migraine. Nevertheless, by the time he felt well enough to walk, he stumbled over to the kitchen.

He intended to grab a piece of fruit--maybe cut up a mango or something--but when he finally ambled to the fruit bowl, he found that none of the contents were in stellar condition. The mango was especially mushy. How long had it been since he’d gone to the market?

Fruit was off the table, so Kaveh just shrugged and reached for a bottle of wine on the counter. He didn’t think anything of what he was doing, nor did he fully realize that it was strange to start drinking so early in the day; it was simply muscle memory. The moment he grabbed it though, he heard a disgruntled murmur from behind him.

“You should stop drinking.”

The statement came out of Ashra’s mouth quickly, and Kaveh winced and whipped around.

“Ashra?” Kaveh questioned, still a little surprised. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t see you there. Do you need anything--?”

“You drink too much,” Ashra interrupted. “Stop it.”

Kaveh, still recovering from his earlier headache, stared at her blankly. He found it hard to truly comprehend what she was saying, and he could only stumble out a simple excuse.

“What? I don’t drink that much.”

Ashra shook her head irritably. “Yes, you do. You’re always drunk.”

Kaveh let out scoff laced with an anxiety that made it warble. He was not always drunk…or at least he thought. Honestly, Kaveh’s memory wasn’t all that great, but he was sure it hadn’t gotten that bad.

“...Okay. I’m not sure who made you in charge, but I’m allowed to drink when I want to.”

“You aren’t listening to me,” Ashra huffed. “You’re always drunk.”

A combination of his aching body, and Ashra’s reassertion of a claim that he truly didn’t believe, caused Kaveh to grow more frustrated. He rubbed his temple.

“ No. I’m not, ” Kaveh stated roughly. “Listen. I’m an adult; I know my limits.”

“You were drunk last night too.” Ashra looked down to the ground with a grimace. “I was talking to you. Do you even remember anything I said?”

He did not. Kaveh didn’t realize that he had drunk last night either. Had he? Perhaps his headache this morning had not been from a budding migraine, but instead a hangover. Kaveh crossed his arms self-consciously.

“No, but--”

“ I knew it, ” Ashra snapped, her voice creasing slightly with dejection. “I hate it when you drink.”

“ Ashra, ” Kaveh began--slightly panicked from the confrontation. “Things aren’t that simple. Even regardless of the drinking--my memory isn’t operating at 100 percent right now. I apologize for forgetting, but I’m here now, aren’t I? Why don’t you just tell me what you said again?”

Ashra scrunched her nose up in a pout. “You promised me last night. You promised me we could go early this morning and visit Dad today.”

Kaveh was taken aback. I said that? he wondered, still not trusting his memory. But the look of determination on Ashra’s face made it pretty clear that was a promise he must’ve made. His heartbeat quickened. Kaveh had been avoiding Alhaitham’s burial site like the plague since the funeral, and he knew that Ashra had been wanting to go for a long time.

Kaveh sighed in defeat. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep--drunk or not--but…”

“But what?” Ashra cried. “I know we’re late, but can’t we still go today?”

“ No, ” Kaveh answered quickly. “I can’t right now.”

Ashra looked at Kaveh with pleading eyes. “ Why not? Why can’t we ever go? Why do you always say no? Can’t we, just this once?”

“Ashra, no is no. ” Kaveh grimaced. “ That’s final. ”

“But, what about Dad--”

“ Stop talking about it .” Kaveh snapped at her. “Stop. Talking. About it.”

Kaveh gripped his wrist in a feeble attempt to ground himself. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. He’s dead. What we do now about that is irrelevant. There’s no need to even mention his name.”

Through his anger, Kaveh could feel tears threatening to prick his eyes. “I don’t want to even think about him.”

“Maybe it’s you, who needs to learn how to forget things.”

The minute Kaveh uttered the words, he wished to take them back.

 They were untrue-- blatantly so --and Ashra gazed back at him with such a raw look of hurt, that Kaveh could feel his resolve crumble at once.

He felt utterly childish.

His tears were flowing freely now, and Kaveh’s aching throat and twisting stomach distracted him from giving his daughter a well-deserved apology.

So, Kaveh did what he did best. He ran away.

That’s how he found himself sitting in a bedroom that he hadn’t entered in months, listening to his daughter on the other side of the door with a burning flight-or-fight instinct that wasn’t quite sure if he should stay with her, or leave for her own good. 

Yes. No matter what Alhaitham may have said in the past, it was clear Kaveh wasn’t cut out for any of this.

It was because of this reason that Kaveh often wondered what would’ve happened if he was the one to have passed away, leaving Alhaitham and Ashra alone in their own lives. Would Alhaitham have been sturdier for her? More sound of mind? Would he have mustered enough strength to take Ashra to his grave? Would he have made sure the fruit wasn’t rotting, and the trash was taken out?

How did Alhaitham cope with anything?

How did he cope after his grandmother’s death? Kaveh never asked. He was nervous-- afraid even --that it would bring up bad memories, just as Kaveh’s father’s death did for him.

Kaveh pinched himself; he knew better than to think that. Alhaitham loved her too much for his memory of her to have ever been soured. Would he have talked about her endlessly if Kaveh had just asked? Every word she told him, every melody she hummed and every story she read, resounded firmly within Alhaitham--impossible to separate.

It wasn’t the same way for Kaveh. His mother, and his father; they were pieces of life that he had to force himself to separate from. He remembered spurring moments--his mother’s beauty, her creativity, her skill, her soft lullabies, his father’s kindness and warm voice--but they seemed to be fleeting instances of nostalgia that Kaveh could never quite grasp.

How would Ashra feel when she was older?

When Kaveh was a child, he had wanted nothing more than for his father to magically come back to life. It was a silly wish--completely unattainable--but Kaveh had thought that if he did, everything would go back to normal. His mother would’ve even gotten back on the first boat to Sumeru to come back to them, and all would be well. The one thing Kaveh didn’t wish for though, was to forget his father completely. He clung to each memory, and each little bit of extra information his mother would tell him, and he cherished them deeply.

Was Ashra not the same? How could Kaveh possibly ever ask her to relinquish part of who she was, and who she was going to be?

Kaveh looked around at the dusty old bedroom; the piles of things that he never put away, the trash that he never threw out, and he sighed into his hands. 

Kaveh couldn’t parent Ashra like this; he didn’t know how. His mother never showed him.

But he’d have to try--or deal with the fact he was leaving behind the best thing that Alhaitham ever gave him.

Kaveh put the letters back into the box, stood up, and walked out of the room.

When Kaveh finally made it down the hall, he saw that Ashra was sitting on one of the divans. There was a plate of milk peda in front of her. Ashra’s eyes were tinged red with tears, and another pang of guilt washed over Kaveh. He moved to sit next to her.

Ashra noticed him with a startle, and Kaveh began to speak as softly as he could.

“Smells good.” Kaveh gestured to the peda. “Did you have any trouble making these?”

Ashra slowly shook her head, still a tad bit dazed. “No. I used some of the old fruit we had for garnish.”

Kaveh hummed contently, and they both fell into a gentle silence. Eventually, Ashra spoke.

“I made them for you,” she murmured as if she was ashamed to speak. “I’m sorry for making you mad.”

Any tenseness Kaveh may have had in his body melted away at her words, and he reached over to pull the young girl closer to him.

“Ashra, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.” Kaveh petted her hair, regret seeping into his hushed voice. “Nothing at all. I’m the one who needs to be sorry.

Ashra looked up at him curiously, and Kaveh continued.

“I do drink. I do get drunk,” Kaveh said. “Truth is, I don’t even remember when that happens. I didn’t mean to try to convince you otherwise; I just didn’t realize the extent of the problem until you brought it up to me.”

The girl nodded.

“And Ashra, you can always tell me things. Anything. Whether it’s questions, concerns, or just something random you’ve thought about. I want to hear all of it.”

Ashra snuggled closer with Kaveh, savoring the unfamiliar touch. Yet she still had a grim look on her face, as if she didn’t completely believe Kaveh’s words.

Kaveh’s confusion at this apprehension turned into regret as he realized what exactly it was that she was unsure about.

“That includes your father,” Kaveh affirmed simply yet painfully. “I have no idea what I was thinking earlier.”

Kaveh looked out the window at the gloomy sky. “I was just so… angry, and I’m not even sure at who or what. Maybe just fate itself. You deserve better than this.”

Ashra perked up and cleared her throat, she spoke with a certain bravado. “It’s not about what you deserve, it’s about making the most of what you get.”

Kaveh turned to Ashra and raised his brow. Her words seemed bigger than herself.

“Oh? Who did you hear that from?”

Ashra stared sheepishly at Kaveh, and he smiled at the realization.

“I see.”

Once again a silence fell upon them, but this time an unfamiliarly light feeling settled itself in Kaveh’s chest. Ashra too, had a smile on her lips. One of her hands gingerly reached out to snag a piece of peda. Kaveh held her closer.

“You should talk about him,” he murmured. “ I should also talk about him. His death doesn’t make him a sullied thing.”

Ashra smiled softly. “Sometimes, when I feel sad, I read the annotations he left on my books. I always asked him to write in them, because I liked looking back on his reactions to the story--even when he was still alive.”

“Those annotations are a forever thing too, aren’t they?” Kaveh rubbed her arm. “More permanent than just a memory.”

Ashra hummed in agreement, and Kaveh also reached to take a peda.

“Ashra, I will never leave you,” Kaveh said suddenly, the racing thought too hard to contain. “I can’t promise you many things, but I can promise you that.”

The girl seemed a little surprised at his words but nodded anyway.

“What have you been up to recently?” Kaveh asked, realizing he had zero idea.

“Up to?” Ashra began. “Well, I made Dad a wreath out of fauna I found during my walks. It’s made out of palm-leaf stalks and padisarahs. It’s a week old, and I’ve been spritzing it with water in the meantime, but I don’t think it can last much longer…”

Kaveh decided to ignore the fact that Ashra had been going out unsupervised right under his nose, and he leaned down to kiss the side of her gaunt cheek. He found her gesture more sweet than he could say.

“He’ll like that. If it’s in danger of wilting, we better deliver it right away,” Kaveh affirmed. “We can do it today. It’s a little gloomy out, but I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Ashra’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course,” Kaveh ran his fingers through her hair. “We could stop on the way to get some new fruit too.”

The replacement fruit would be first on the agenda to get the house up and running again; the other chores would have to come later.

Oh, and Kaveh supposed he should respond to Faranak’s letters at some point too.

***

Dear Faranak,

You might be surprised to receive this letter. I admit, I haven’t been the best in keeping steady contact with you either.

I could start with a simple statement like, “I’ve been doing the best I can” or, “It’s been hard, but I’ve been surviving,” but I’m not content with either of these assertions.

It’s true: I’ve been doing the best I can. And it’s also true that it’s been hard, but some things can’t be adequately expressed through words alone. Some things you simply just have to be there to understand. But since you weren’t--you can’t.

I apologize if this answer to your ever-present wondering about my well-being doesn’t satisfy you. I can’t say I’m satisfied with it either. I wish the first sentence of this letter was something instead like, “Ashra misses you, and wonders when you’ll visit again.”But Ashra never asks that. She has no reason to.

In a perfect world, I would write to you and ask if you truly liked the color combination I chose for my wedding. I would ask you if Ashra felt underweight when you held her for the first time, or if it was just my imagination. I would ask you if you, too, noticed how sick Alhaitham was getting. 

I, alone, have to reconcile with the fact that none of these questions will ever be asked.

My wish for this reality doesn’t come from bitterness, but instead, longing. I long for a mother--a companion--who understands without words. I miss that even more now that I know what such a companion feels like, and what it’s like to lose them.

Instead of feeling comradery with you, however, these past few months I simply feel like I know what it’s like to be you. When dad died, your feelings, I finally get it now.

We’re hard people to love. Mostly because we refuse the very notion as soon as it appears. Yet when we finally let another's affection breach our boundaries, shouldn’t we cherish the invaders? You and I both do, don’t we? You left Sumeru to protect me from yourself as if I was a gift too precious to risk breaking.

I think I’m okay with breaking. I think we all kind of need to be. And I think that we could’ve been fine picking up our pieces together as a unit; mother and son. 

I’ll never know though, and I’m okay with that too. 

Ashra has been doing well lately. Not too long ago, we did a deep clean of the house. Partly because we really needed to, and partly because we recently added a new member to the family: a fluffy black and white cat named Penguin--per Ashra. She and him have been inseparable since we got him. He’s still a little nervous around me, but I think those fish treats I got the other day are finally breaking ground.

I’ve also been alright.

I’ve been working on going through some of Alhaitham’s old papers in my spare time, and while it’s still a painful process, it’s brought me immense comfort. I miss him, and that will never change, but I feel confident that I can carry on his memory with little issue. I only wish the same for you and Father.

If you ever need me--you know where to find me.

Love,

Kaveh.