[ kaveh can feel it, the way alhaitham sucks in his breath. the way that breath punctures his mouth, his lungs, his body, as if it were a spear, a knife, a sword. the breath is sharp the way that pain is sharp, the way that grief is sharp. kaveh knows its meaning. he is once again asking alhaitham to do something cruel. the young man in his grief will experience something crueler. kaveh is not a kind man, or a good man, or a decent man. he is only kaveh. and the story has made it so that this is the only way forward.

slowly, kaveh shakes his head. ]

Not once. [ kaveh says, softly. ] Not where it counts.

[ because there had been another script that had run its course. of course there had been. ]

And I am not glad to make Alhaitham hold my blood and heart in his hands. But I will give them to you. I would have done so even if this weren't a storybook. Not as a sacrifice. But as a prayer. A prayer that you will come to know that you are not alone.