The neon glare of headlights bounced off the slick pavement. The rain wouldn't stop.
Kaveh gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles burned white. He knew why his husband had called him here— to talk . He practically spat the word in his mind. And at a restaurant, no less.
Alhaitham knew exactly what he was doing. In public, Kaveh couldn't let his temper flare, couldn't throw things or let his voice break the careful cadence of composure. In private, he could let go.
But not here.
Not now.
Not when the image of "The Perfect Architect" hung around his neck like a golden noose. An image he didn't even want in the first place.
His eyes flicked down to the half-burnt cigarette between his fingers. Kaveh didn't smoke. He never had, and always scoffed at people who did, but tonight, he couldn't resist. He hated himself for it, for digging through the pristine sanctuary of his car for something so utterly beneath him.
And yet, here he was, staring at the wisps of smoke as if the cigarette could offer him some semblance of escape.
The smell clung to his fingertips, bitter and familiar in a way that made his stomach churn. Kaveh sighed and flicked the ash out of the window, the raindrops hissing faintly as they hit the ember.
He reached for the rearview mirror, pulling it down to inspect his reflection. His red eyes gleamed in the dim light, lined with exhaustion and puffy from crying. ' No, this won't do,' he thought bitterly.
He made quick work of smoothing his blonde hair, straightening the feather pinned in place behind his ear, its sleek curve adding a touch of flair that would have been impressive on anyone else.
He rifled through his bag until his fingers closed around a familiar glass cylinder. He despised makeup, even if it did make him look prettier.
It wasn't vanity. It was necessity.
To hide the marks of his rocky past was the least he could do, and now he used it to trace the bags beneath his eyes. He dabbed and blended until the redness faded into pale perfection. Kaveh set the concealer aside and tilted his head.
The exhaustion was still there, lingering in the shadows of his gaze, but no one else would see it now. He pushed the mirror back into place, his lips tightening into a thin line.
' Not tonight,' he thought.
He adjusted the sage-green blouse he had painstakingly chosen, its pearl-beaded fabric irritating against his skin. He ran a hand over the pleather pants that clung to his legs, the gold of his heeled boots catching the soft glow of the dashboard light.
If he was going to endure this humiliation, he would do it beautifully.
With one last breath, Kaveh grabbed his coat and slung it over his shoulders. The cigarette was crushed under his heel as he stepped out into the rain, the cold soaking through his coat almost immediately.
A young couple brushed past him, holding the door to the restaurant open with cheery smiles. Newlyweds, he guessed, from the way their hands lingered on each other. Kaveh offered them a gracious nod, but as they walked towards a bright red SUV, a pang of bitterness pierced his chest.
They were so carefree… He longed for that feeling again.
The warmth inside felt suffocating. The clash of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional high-pitched squeal of a child rang out like a cacophony that made Kaveh's temples throb. The air smelled of roasted meats and fresh bread, yet it was cloying, too heavy, threatening to choke him.
And there he was, sitting right in the center of the restaurant as if he owned the place. Well, he probably did. To have such a talk in a place his husband owned was a tad bit ironic, and this made Kaveh's blood boil.
Alhaitham looked calm, maddeningly so, reclining at the table like he hadn't just summoned Kaveh into a lion's den. No, his posture was poised—legs crossed, one hand tucked lazily into his suit pocket while the other held a cigarette between his fingers.
Kaveh's jaw tightened. ' So, this is how you want to play it? '
He sauntered forward, his heels clicking against the marble floor. Every step was measured, designed to draw attention. Heads turned as he passed, though he barely noticed. A waiter appeared as if by magic, pulling a chair out for him before he even reached the table.
"Thank you," Kaveh murmured with a gracious smile, shedding his coat and draping it over the back of the chair. The waiter handed him a wine menu, but Kaveh barely glanced at it.
"Just a Coke with a slice of lemon, please," he said, his tone honeyed, though his smile was more blade than balm. His eyes darted across the table.
Those silver eyes—cold and calculating—once held warmth for him, a flicker of something real. Now, they were as unreadable as ever. Kaveh clenched his hands beneath the table.
Alhaitham's lips, set in a firm line, parted as the waiter walked away. "Kaveh."
"Alhaitham."
The man before him, world-renowned businessman and archaeologist, had an aura of effortless authority that grated on Kaveh's every nerve. Even more so, was catching a glimpse of his husband's chosen outfit.
That god-awful black suit, paired with that hideous red tie, screamed practicality over taste. Kaveh wanted to laugh, to sneer, to tear apart the image Alhaitham presented so flawlessly.
But he didn't. He couldn't.
"Weather's dreadful," Kaveh sighed, glancing out at the streaked, frosted glass windows. The rain poured relentlessly. "What did you—"
"Cut the shit, Kaveh."
Alhaitham closed his eyes briefly, knocking the ash from his cigarette into the tray beside his plate full of half eaten potatoes and sticky honey roast, with a casual flick of his wrist. "Do you really think this is a time for small talk?"
Kaveh froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. It took everything in his power not to leap across the table and claw at the infuriating face before him. Instead, he straightened his spine.
"Of course not, Alhaitham," he said through gritted teeth, his voice laced with a sweetness so thin it might as well have been venom. "I was merely—"
A sudden thud on the table sent a jolt through his body, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sound was loud enough to draw curious glances of nearby diners, though Alhaitham seemed unfazed.
Kaveh's gaze flicked down, trailing the length of Alhaitham's impeccably tailored suit to the offending object: a stack of manila folders. The papers inside were askew, sticking out at odd angles, but it was the emblem on the cover that sent a river of ice through his veins.
Oh.
"What are—"
"I filed them this morning." Alhaitham's eyes pinned Kaveh to his seat like a predator cornering its prey. "I want all of your stuff packed and out by tomorrow morning. I've already called a moving company, so you won't have to worry about paying for help."
Kaveh stared at him, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob, though he refused to let either escape. He couldn't find the right words to describe what he felt. Dumbfounded? Astonished? Appalled?
"As far as the rest is concerned," Alhaitham continued, completely detached from the situation as if he's rehearsed this a thousand times, "you'll get fifty thousand. That's it. Clean cut, no strings attached."
Kaveh's mouth opened, but no words came out. His throat burned.
Alhaitham's expression didn't change. No anger, no regret. Just frost.
"Ah," the sound slipped out of Kaveh before he could stop it.
His hand trembled slightly as he grabbed the folder and began flipping through the pages. The lines blurred before his eyes, his chest tightening as his breath grew shallow, though he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus.
Then, something caught his eye.
"You're selling the house?"
"A buddy of mine wants to build a new lot there," he said in a plume of smoke. He stubbed out the cigarette and immediately lit another, the motion so practiced it was almost elegant. "I certainly don't need four acres of land once you're—"
"I built that house," Kaveh interjected, which made Alhaitham pause. "It's in my name. You can't just—"
"We changed it two years ago, remember? When you couldn't keep up with the mortgage?"
"Only because you wanted to control my finances-"
Alhaitham rolled his eyes. "Ohhh, here we go."
"So let me get this straight," Kaveh sat up straighter in his chair. His pointer finger traced the lines of the document as if doing so would help him make sense of things. "I get no eviction notice for a house that's in my name, that I built as our forever home, and on top of that, I only get fifty thousand dollars? In this economy? That's barely enough to buy a house—let alone rent a decent apartment in the city!"
"I hear Nilou knows a couple of places," Alhaitham said coolly, leaning back in his chair as he took another drag from his cigarette.
"Oh, right," Kaveh hissed, his lips curling into a humorless smile. "I forgot—she just opened that homeless shelter."
Kaveh closed the folder with a SNAP and shoved it across the table.
"I can't believe this. Fifty thousand? That's all I'm worth? That we are worth, to you?"
Kaveh's chest heaved as he waited for a response, for anything that could justify the cruelty of it all. But as the seconds dragged on, it became painfully clear—there was no justification.
None that Alhaitham cared to give.
"As I said, I want this to be a clean cut—"
"Of course you do." Kaveh's voice dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing defensively. "After all, your image matters so much to you, doesn't it? God forbid anyone sees the great Alhaitham with a little dirt under his nails."
"You're one to talk," Alhaitham shot back, his silver eyes darkening. "You look like a pimped-out whore in that get-up."
Kaveh flinched, his lips parting in a sharp intake of breath. "At least I don't pretend to be all calm, cool, and collected while in reality, you're just a scumbag who doesn't give a rat's ass about anybody but himself!"
His voice was rising, drawing subtle glances from nearby tables. Kaveh didn't care.
"Your husband of three years gets a measly fifty thousand," Kaveh continued, "while that skank inherits everything else? Everything, Alhaitham? Even the dog? MY dog? It's ridiculous!"
Alhaitham didn't flinch, but ash crumbled to the table as his fingertips gripped the butt of his cigarette. His gaze bore into Kaveh's, hard and unrelenting. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long, slow breath through his nose, and stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
"You're being dramatic as always."
"You think I'm being dramatic ? How about ungrateful ? How about selfish ? All of those flavorful words you threw at me when I caught you with your pants down, huh? Because that's what you are, Alhaitham. A selfish, ungrateful bastard who takes and takes until there's nothing left!"
"Keep your voice down. You're embarrassing yourself."
"I'm embarrassing myself?" Kaveh repeated, his voice breaking with another laugh in disbelief that sent a chill through the air. "You drained me dry, Alhaitham! You took my love, my trust, everything I gave you—and for what? To toss me aside when I stopped being convenient for you? When I wasn't that pretty boy you first met back in college? Or was it after I became your housewife and you got sick of the sex?"
His hands trembled as he gestured toward himself. "Oh, because I got a few years on me, all of a sudden I'm old baggage ? Something you couldn't stand to look at anymore?"
The corners of Alhaitham's mouth pulled into a tight frown. "If you're done screaming for an audience, Kaveh, maybe we can have a rational discussion. Or is that too much to ask of you?"
Kaveh laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it made Alhaitham's stomach twist, though he would never admit it. "Rational discussion? Oh my fucking God…You lost the right to anything rational the moment you decided to fuck your colleague in our bed."
"I'm not going to sit here and let you—"
"Let me what? Tell the truth? Call you out for the coward you are? You used me, Alhaitham. And now, you want me to quietly pack up and disappear, like none of it ever mattered?"
Alhaitham opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. For once, he was at a loss. No snarky comeback, no way to rile up the blonde…nothing.
The restaurant seemed to collectively hold its breath. The clinking of silverware slowed to an awkward halt, and the soft murmur of conversations turned into a stifled silence. Nearby diners shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting anywhere but at the two.
Kaveh leaned forward, his voice dropping. "How old is she, Alhaitham? Hm? Eighteen? Nineteen? Fresh outta' highschool, looking for a millionaire to bed? I always knew you liked them young. When did this all start? Was it during that excavation you so graciously invited yourself on to the desert two months ago?"
Alhaitham's hand resting on the table twitched, and he lit a third cigarette. The ember glowed faintly as he brought it to his lips in a futile attempt to calm himself. He took a slow drag, his eyes narrowing as he exhaled the smoke in a thin stream, refusing to meet Kaveh's searing gaze.
However, Kaveh didn't wait for a response.
"Was it when I called you late at night, worried sick because you didn't answer my texts? Was she there then, Alhaitham? Was she laughing at me behind your back while I stayed up, pacing the floors of our home , wondering if you were okay?"
"That's enough, Kaveh."
"Oh, it's enough now? Now that I've pulled back the curtain and revealed the big, shiny fraud that you are? God forbid anyone sees the great Alhaitham, the perfect husband, as the absolute bastard he's always been. If you have nothing to hide now, then answer the damn questions! Were you fucking her when Zaria passed away from choking on that damn pacifier you swear was too big for her? "
Alhaitham slammed his cigarette into the ashtray, breaking it instantly, the sharp crack making several patrons flinch. He locked eyes with Kaveh as anger swirled within him. "If you're going to act like a child and continue throwing accusations, then there's no point in continuing this conversation."
"No, you don't get to walk away from this! You also don't get to sit there, all high and mighty, while you throw away everything we had like it was nothing. Like I was nothing!"
"You…" Alhaitham began, his voice hoarse, strained, as if the air itself had thickened to water. He stopped, his fingers twitching as if grasping for something—anything. "Kaveh, that's—"
"Answer me! Were you with her while I was burying our child? While I was holding Zaria on the bathroom floor, wondering where the hell you were? Were you with her then, Alhaitham? Did she make it easier for you to forget me? Forget us?"
"I…"
The words fell like stones striking Alhaitham again and again. His eyes shut tight for a moment, and when they opened again, there was no more calmness in them—only something dark and frayed at the edges, something raw.
"I was grieving, too."
"Grieving? Grieving? " Kaveh's voice cracked, tears welling up despite his best efforts to hold them back. "You weren't grieving, Alhaitham. You were running away . You found someone else to distract you from the mess we were in."
The words Kaveh had so desperately wanted to say for months were spilling out now, and it felt like a dam breaking. "You-...You never really cared, did you? You've been too busy trying to make everything perfect —perfect for you, perfect for your business. Well, look at us now, Alhaitham. Perfect. Peachy-fucking- Perfect ."
Alhaitham opened his mouth again, but Kaveh didn't wait for him to speak. He could feel his heart cracking with every breath, but he couldn't stop. "You couldn't even be there for me. Instead, you were fucking her ."
"You knew this wasn't working, Kaveh. Don't act like you didn't see this coming."
"Oh, I saw it coming, alright. All over that bitch's pussy."
"After Zaria…I didn't change. No, you did. You closed yourself off for months. I tried to be there for you, yet you refused it. You wouldn't talk, you wouldn't eat, you wouldn't allow me to be there for you, and you certainly weren't there for me."
Alhaitham grew quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Faruzan, she…she helped me. She actually showed an ounce of compassion and care for anyone but herself-something I desperately needed from you. Zaria was my daughter too. God, I took the next flight home as soon as I got your call. But you didn't dare let me have an ounce-a moment to grieve. And it only got worse from there."
"Whenever we talked, it always resorted to this—" He gestured between them with a sharp flick of his hand. "This is what we do, Kaveh. We fight. We fuck. Then it's all better until the next time you're bitching about something I screwed up. Over and over again. It's exhausting."
"I'm exhausting to you?" Kaveh asked quietly, his voice trembling. "What about everything we built together? Was that all just… exhausting to you too?"
Alhaitham's gaze softened, but only slightly. He didn't answer right away, his eyes drifting to the scattered papers on the table. The silence stretched between them, until finally, he looked up.
"I did love you. But I can't anymore."
Kaveh stared at him, his vision blurring with unshed tears. He wanted to scream, to deny everything Alhaitham was saying, but the words wouldn't come. The ache in his chest was too overwhelming.
The waiter approached cautiously, clearing his throat as if afraid to interrupt. "Your drink, sir," he said.
"Thanks," Kaveh muttered, his voice hollow.
The waiter hesitated, glancing between the two men, before retreating silently. Kaveh picked up the glass, the condensation cool against his fingers, and took a slow sip.
"I hope this is what you wanted," Kaveh said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because once I'm gone, I'm not coming back."
Alhaitham's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—something Kaveh couldn't quite place.
"I wouldn't expect you to," Alhaitham said, his voice steady but tinged with something that almost sounded like regret.
Kaveh set the glass down, the sound of it hitting the table far louder than it should have been. Without another word, he stood, grabbing his coat and throwing it over his shoulder.
"You win," Kaveh said bitterly, his voice breaking. "Enjoy your clean cut."
Alhaitham's hand reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small leather-bound pocketbook, the edges worn from use. He flipped it open and clicked his pen, beginning to scribble on a pristine check, but Kaveh held up a hand.
"Keep your fifty grand," he sniffled. "Your perfect little life... I hope she keeps you warm at night. I hope she buys you black coffee with two sugars, relishes in all your deviant sexual fantasies and be the prettiest arm candy you've ever had, because God knows you won't have anything else. So keep your damn money. I don't want a dime. You'll need it for your—your new baby ."
The words stung, harsher than anything he'd ever said before. His throat constricted, his chest tightening with each syllable, but Kaveh pushed forward, desperate to inflict just a little bit of the hurt he felt.
"Kaveh—" he extended a hand, a futile attempt to reach him, to stop him, but Kaveh didn't wait. He didn't need to hear more of Alhaitham's empty justifications. It was bullshit. It was meaningless.
With a final, angry swipe at his tears, Kaveh turned swiftly on his heel, his coat swirling behind him as he marched toward the door. His steps were hurried, unsteady, but he didn't care. The sobs tore through him.
Memories flood his mind as he left everything behind at that table-years and years of love with a man he thought knew him inside and out, now stripped away. His heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, leaving him gasping for breath.
Alhaitham's voice reached him one last time, but Kaveh couldn't bring himself to stop. He pushed open the door, the cold air biting at his skin, but it felt almost soothing against the fire of his emotions. He always felt things so strongly, and he hated it.
If he only bit his tongue, maybe they would be in bed right about now with a bottle of wine, embracing each other's bodies with soft whispers and sweet kisses. But all that was gone now.
Three years; down the drain.
Inside, Alhaitham sat motionless as he stared at the empty chair across from him. He gathered the papers Kaveh had left scattered across the table.
He half-expected Kaveh to come back like he always did after arguments like these. Sobbing, blubbering like a baby and clutching to his chest. Kaveh was so cute when his face would get all red and puffy. It made Alhaitham smile-not in a creepy way. More like a protector caring for their little one who got lost.
And so, he waited.
Minutes ticked by.
Then hours.
He wasn't coming back.
Without thinking, he dropped his head into his hands, the tears coming as a shock—he hadn't allowed himself to feel in so long. He hadn't allowed himself to care, not truly. And now, as Kaveh's absence echoed in his mind, he could no longer deny it.
The tears fell, quiet at first, but then heavier, faster, as if the floodgates had been opened. His shoulders trembled with each shuddering breath, and for the first time in years, Alhaitham allowed himself to grieve—not just for the loss of Kaveh, but for everything he had thrown away in his pursuit of perfection, of control, of selfish desire.
He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the empty chair, his chest aching with every breath. All he could think of was Kaveh—his anger, his pain. And he knew, deep down, that no amount of money could fix it.
The sharp scent of smoke was the only thing that seemed real.