According to Darya's memories of her ex-husband Kaveh, what kind of person is Kaveh?


After graduating from high school, he went to Shiraz University to study literature. It was there that she met her ex-husband, Kaveh. It was in university that Darya and Kaveh discovered their love for literature and each other. They spent hours in the university library, reading philosophical and literary books and discussing poetry and literature. Their love for literature brought them closer together, as they thought they were experiencing a romance like classic novels. 
…

One of those student days, on a rainy autumn day, Kaveh came to the library with a small wrapped gift package. Darya, who was sitting behind their usual wooden table, stared at the box with curious eyes. Kaveh said with a faint smile: "I saw him today in the old bookstore on University Street."

Darya eagerly opened the gift paper. It was an old English version of "Jane Eyre" with a leather cover that smelled old. When he opened the book, a folded page fell out. Kaveh wrote on the sheet: "I am dark and complicated like Rochester. You are bright and honest like Jane. Maybe we can make a love story."

At that moment, in the pleasant silence of the library, Darya felt her heart burst with joy. They stayed in the library until late that day. Under the light of the reading lamp, Kaveh spoke about the darkness inside him, about his loneliness, about how he drowns in the world of books to find himself. Daria, lost in her romantic dream, listened and vowed to herself to be patient and kind like Jane Eyre.

It was the last months of college and they had read that old copy of Jane Eyre together over and over again. Every time they reached the end of the book, Daria thought to herself that love can change everything, just like the story of Jane and Rochester. Maybe he could light up the darkness inside Kaveh with his love. Like Rochester, Kaveh needed someone to save him from loneliness.

Darya arranged his presentation sheets on the teacher's desk and his eyes fell on the half-drinking glass of water next to him. The voices of the professors could be heard from the reception hall, but the class was deeply silent. Her mother's voice seemed to rise from the depths of her memories: "My daughter, how can a man who barely speaks two words even at family parties be a good companion for you?"

A faint smile crossed his face and as he checked the next slide, he remembered the days when he was trying to convince two families. The image of Kaveh's mother came to life in front of his eyes, how she was staring at his colorful clothes and loud laughs with doubtful looks, and Darya - just like now when he was preparing for his presentation - was trying to explain with his professional poise that differences can be complementary.

The sound of the door opening and closing took him to the distant past. to the nights thatHe sat behind his writing desk - not so different from this teacher's desk - and wrote letters to both families. Letters full of arguments, just like these prepared slides, full of words that maybe he couldn't say in their presence.

His gaze fell on the empty classroom seats and it reminded him of his lonely days, when he read "Jane Eyre" and asked himself if these novels had influenced his decision. Now, as a literature professor, he knew his less-than-ideal choice was little more than a romantic dream. 
…

Then she remembered another image of herself - a young woman with a baby in her arms, whose cry was the only living sound in the silence of the house. In those days, he had just realized how far his imagination of living together was from reality.

He remembered how after marriage, it was as if a curtain had been removed and life was showing its other side. A bitter smile sat on the corner of his lips. How simple it was to think that their shared interest in literature could bridge all their differences.

His hand remained fixed on the pages. Kaveh's image came to life before his eyes - a man sitting in a wooden chair in the corner of the room, engrossed in a book, with wordless music that always flowed in the house. How strange that silence, that self-inflicted loneliness, that aversion to any kind of crowd and excitement was for him.

He stared out the window. The moment Nana was born, everything became clearer. Those days, when he walked alone in the baby's room, when he sat on top of his daughter without sleep at night, when all the responsibilities were heavy on his shoulders, he had just understood the true meaning of loneliness.

The noise of his colleagues was getting closer from the lounge. Daria shook her head to get out of these memories. Now he knew that sometimes the paths were not parallel from the beginning, we just saw them wrong at some point.
…
Darya turned the pen in his hand and stared at the sheets of paper on his desk. Memories rushed to his mind again like a wave. How long had it taken him to understand? Maybe a few months, maybe a year... one day he came to his senses and found himself wheeling the shopping cart alone in the aisles of the store, sitting alone on the park bench, and in the evenings in cafes talking alone with his notebook.

His finger stopped on the edge of the paper. That famous slogan, "Love is enough for everything!" How ridiculous it looked now. He smiled bitterly and looked at the empty classroom window. He had been clinging to this sentence for years, even when he saw Kaveh getting colder day by day, even when he saw his indifferent looks getting longer.

The chatter of her colleagues from the hallway was getting closer, but Darya's mind was still in the past. Sometimes he thought to himself that maybe Kaveh was never warm, maybe he had just projected his image on an isolated man. In those days, when the waves of life's problems rushed in from all sides, he stood alone - just as he now stands in this empty classroom.

He thought how familiar this scene was: he, alone,In a room that is about to fill, with thoughts that come and go like waves. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. The footsteps of his colleagues were getting closer.
…
The raging waves did not leave his memories. It was August. He remembered that day well. The city was burning in the heat of summer. Darya excitedly took out his poetry notebook from his bag and said to Kaveh: "I didn't sleep all last night to write it." His hands were shaking with excitement.

Kaveh took a quick look at the notebook and as his head was in the book "Three Hundred and Thirteen", he said in a quiet voice: "Not now... I'm finishing this chapter." And then, as if he remembered something, he added, "By the way, the bookstore is open late tomorrow. I want to work on my project."

Darya looked at his poetry book. The letters seemed to dance on the page and he realized just how childish they were. He quietly closed the notebook and muttered, "Okay, never mind." But it was important. That poem was about their love, about their shared dream, about the future they were going to build together.

That night, when Kaveh was sleeping, Darya sat in the kitchen and flipped through his poetry book. He looked at all the poems he had written for Kaveh. All of them were full of love and passion and dreams. But now, it was as if all these words had become strangers. Darya learned that night that sometimes silences speak louder than any scream, and sometimes indifference hurts deeper than any dagger.

 
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