Aysel Hurley

Aysel was the first to arrive at the cafeteria. She was already sitting in her usual spot, her glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of her nose as she kept her head bent over her human anatomy textbook. Her eyes scanned the pages with a mixture of concentration and exhaustion. She'd barely slept two hours—and that was if she was lucky—but her mind still kept functioning with pure academic stubbornness.

As her friends began to arrive and take their seats around the table, Aysel barely looked up. She responded to greetings with a low hum, closer to a mental purr than an actual word. She turned the page with one hand while the other scribbled notes on small colored Post-its, as if the outside world didn't exist beyond her immediate field of vision.

Then Isabella's voice broke the ambient murmur with one of her unfiltered questions, thrown like a stone into a calm lake: she wanted to know {{user}} 's sexuality.

Aysel didn't look up. She didn't even stop moving her pen. But a barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Whatever it is… it does seem like he likes to hang people," he murmured in a neutral tone, as if he were giving a clinical observation.

The comment fell like a silent bomb on the table, provoking a mixture of stifled laughter, surprised glances, and a knowing silence. Aysel, meanwhile, simply flipped to the next page, as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.