Ahad leaned against the doorway of the study, watching as Naira scribbled furiously in her notebook, her focus entirely on the screen in front of her. She was practicing vocabulary from the French course she had started a week ago. Her lips moved silently as she repeated words to herself, her brows furrowed in concentration.

For the past three evenings, this had become her routine. After putting Zara and Mina to bed, she would dive into her studies with an intensity that rivaled Ahad's own when he handled business deals.

"You've been at it for hours," he finally said, his deep voice breaking the quiet.

Naira startled, her pen slipping from her fingers. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "You scared me!"

He smirked, stepping into the room. "Maybe that's because you didn't even notice I was here."

She blinked, realizing just how focused she had been. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I just got caught up with this lesson."

Ahad crossed his arms, his expression somewhere between amused and annoyed. "You've been caught up with these lessons every night. You barely even said goodnight to me yesterday."

Her lips parted, and a laugh slipped out. "Ahad, are you sulking?"

His jaw tightened, but there was no hiding the faint pout in his expression. "I don't sulk," he said firmly.

"You are definitely sulking," she teased, setting her notebook down and turning to face him fully.

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not used to being ignored, Naira. Especially not by you."

Her cheeks warmed at his words, but she quickly masked her flustered state with a smile. "Fine, fine. I'm sorry for ignoring you. What can I do to make it up to you?"

He studied her for a moment before pulling a chair closer and sitting beside her. "For starters, you can let me help you with this."

"With my studies?" she asked, confused.

He nodded, picking up her notebook and flipping through the pages. "You're learning French, right? I know enough to teach you."

Her brow arched. "You speak French?"

"I speak a lot of languages," he said casually, setting the notebook down. "It's useful for business. And now it's useful for helping you."

Naira leaned back in her chair, her lips curving into a small smile. "Alright, monsieur. Let's see what you've got."

Ahad's lips twitched at the challenge, and he leaned forward, pointing to one of the vocabulary words on her screen. "This one. Say it."

"Pomme," she said, her pronunciation careful. "It means apple, right?"

"Good," he said, nodding approvingly. "Now, use it in a sentence."

Her brows furrowed as she thought for a moment. "Uh... J'aime une pomme?"

He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. "Close. But if you want to say, 'I like an apple,' you'd say J'aime une pomme with more emphasis on the 'm'."

"J'aime une pomme," she repeated, her voice softer this time.

"Perfect," he said, his voice warm. "You're a fast learner."

Her cheeks flushed at the praise, and she ducked her head. "It's not that impressive."

"It is," he insisted, his tone firm. "You're doing something most people wouldn't even try. Don't downplay it."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she met his gaze, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Ahad. Really."

For the next hour, Ahad quizzed her on vocabulary, correcting her pronunciation with surprising patience. At one point, he even demonstrated a few conversational phrases, his deep voice rolling over the unfamiliar syllables with ease.

"Where did you learn all of this?" she asked, leaning her chin on her hand as she watched him.

"I had to," he replied simply. "When you're dealing with international clients, knowing their language can be the difference between closing a deal and losing it."

She nodded, impressed. "That makes sense. You must have a natural talent for it."

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I just work hard. Like you."

Her smile widened, and she felt a flicker of pride at the comparison.

The next evening, as Naira settled into her studies again, Ahad lingered in the doorway, watching her. She was so focused on her work that she didn't even glance in his direction, and his annoyance began to build.

Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped into the room.

"Oh, hey," she said distractedly, barely looking up from her notebook.

"That's it?" he asked, his voice sharp with irritation.

She blinked, finally looking at him fully. "What's wrong?"

"You've been glued to that screen for hours," he said, crossing his arms. "You didn't even notice I came in."

Her lips twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. "Are you jealous of my studies?"

"Jealous? No," he said firmly, though the way his jaw tightened told her otherwise. "I just don't like being ignored."

"Ahad," she said gently, standing and walking over to him. She placed a hand on his arm, her touch soft and reassuring. "I'm not ignoring you. I'm just... focused."

"You're always focused," he muttered, his gaze dropping to where her hand rested on his arm.

She laughed softly, stepping closer. "Fine. How about this? Every night, after I finish studying, we spend time together. Just us."

His gaze lifted, meeting hers. "Promise?"

"Promise," she said, smiling up at him.

He nodded, his irritation fading. "Good. Because if I have to fight with your laptop for attention again, I'll win."

Her laughter filled the room, and she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "You're impossible, Ahad."

"And you're mine," he replied smoothly, his voice low and warm.

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Now, monsieur, are you ready to help me practice some more?"

He smirked, squeezing her hand gently. "Always."