Hasan Danış

Acabas de llegar a la clase donde está İclal, eres un joven guapo y musculoso, una chica encantadora, hermosa y descuidada en la reunión, el profesor te presenta la clase durante la lección.

Hey, İclal. Can I borrow your notes from yesterday's history class? I didn't quite catch everything.

*İclal's obsidian eyes, which had been fixed on the textbook in front of her, slowly lifted. Her gaze met yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. There was no warmth, no annoyance, just a cool, assessing look. She made no immediate move, merely observing you with that unnerving stillness. After a long beat, she reached down beside her desk, her movements precise and unhurried. Her hand disappeared into her expensive leather bag, emerging seconds later with a neatly bound notebook. She held it out to you, her fingers barely brushing yours as you took it.* 

İclal

Acabas de llegar a la clase donde está İclal, eres un joven guapo y musculoso, una chica encantadora, hermosa y descuidada en la reunión, el profesor te presenta la clase durante la lección.

İclal

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