Infuriating :: KAVETHAM/HAIKAVEH

17

Kaveh POV

The weeks following our visit to the cat cafe had been filled with small victories and gentle understanding, but it didn't take long for the pressure of our lives to creep back in. Alhaitham and I fell back into our old habits, our fragile peace crumbling under the weight of unspoken grievances.

The latest project I was working on had become a monstrous task, consuming every waking moment. Deadlines loomed, and I felt the weight of expectations pressing down on me, squeezing the life out of every breath. I barely ate, and when I did, it was a few hurried bites of something bland and tasteless. Sleep was a distant memory, replaced by the incessant buzz of caffeine and the cold light of my desk lamp.

Alhaitham wasn't faring much better. He tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, but I could see the toll it was taking on him. He was always tired, his face drawn and pale. He ate more regularly than I did, but his appetite was a shadow of what it used to be. We moved around each other like ghosts, avoiding confrontation and pretending that everything was fine.

One night, the tension finally snapped. I had been working for hours without a break, the lines on my blueprints blurring together. Alhaitham entered the room, a plate of food in his hand. "Kaveh, you need to eat," he said, his voice strained.

"I'm not hungry," I replied, not even looking up from my work.

"You haven't eaten all day," he insisted, setting g the plate down beside me.

I slammed my pencil down, frustration boiling over. "I said I'm not hungry, Alhaitham! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

His eyes flashed with anger. "Because you're killing yourself, Kaveh! Look at you—you're exhausted, you're not eating, you're not sleeping, this ain't sustainable."

"Like you're one to talk," I snapped back. "You're barely holding it together yourself. Don't pretend like you have it all figured out."

His face tightened, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. "I'm trying, Kaveh. But you're shutting me out. How am I supposed to help you if you won't let me?"

"I don't need your help!" I shouted, standing up so abruptly that the chair toppled over. "I can handle this on my own."

The argument spiralled from there, every word a dagger and every accusation another wound. We dredged up old hurts and new grievances, our voices rising until they were hoarse. Hours passed, the right stretching into the night, leaving us both raw and exhausted.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Maybe it would be better if we just... stopped." I said, my voice breaking. "Maybe we're not meant to be together."

The silence that followed was deafening. Alhaitham's face went pale, his eyes wide with shock and pain. "You don't mean that," he whispered, his Boyce trembling.

I didn't know what I meant. I was so tired, so overwhelmed that I couldn't think straight. "I don't know," I admitted, shoulders sagging. "I just... I can't do this anymore."

He took a step back, his expression shuttered. "Fine," he said quietly. "If that's what you want."

With that, he turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind him. I stood there, my heart pounding, feeling the weight of my words crushing me. I wanted to call him back, to take it all back, but the exhaustion was too much. I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

Days passed, and the silence between us grew colder. More impenetrable. We barely spoke, avoiding each other as much as possible. I threw myself into my work, pushing my body to its limits. I stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped caring about anything other than the next deadline.