The truth About cypher ✓

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A faint scent of cinnamon apples filled up Laila's nostrils as she stepped closer to the canteen. The first days are either, extremely tiring and long or productively short. For Laila, it had been the latter case. Mila however was still clinging onto her sheets of anatomy notes.

She had always been the slow friend, unable to pack her stuff on time, the one to walk behind a group because they couldn't wait till she tied her shoelace. Mila always thought her skills of patience were useless, that is till she joined the varsity basketball as a shooter during her first year in college. Being a part of something big and important filled her with a sense of achievement.

After meeting Laila, she got comfortable with the idea of trying something new. Her school in Ukraine was definitely not the place where people just tried new things. Her teachers were judgmental, the classmates maintained a status quo and there was no way the fifteen-year-old possessed the balls to break them.

Laila's motherly instincts immediately decided to adopt this lost duckling. There was something innocent in Mila's eyes that was worth protecting. Not that Laila was unaware of the perversions that brunette possessed. No, Mila was a pro when it came to flirting and hooking up. At one point the girl had offered Laila to participate in a foursome which she ludicrously denied, something Mila doesn't understand to date.

The pair walked into the canteen eyeing the platters displayed.

Autumn meant Miss Olga's epic pirozhki was for lunch hours. The flakey pastry was filled with beef and caramelized onions. You could taste the hint of garlic butter which she spread on top before broiling it in the oven. Kazan was generous with the facilities it provided to its students (no doubt considering the donations it received in the name of simple favors.)

"Could you save us a seat? I see Maria sitting in the center." Laila spoke softly pointing in the direction of her classmates.

Mila just nodded her head in agreement while cursing under her breath. The classmates were called: lunchbox friends. They loved to mooch off Laila every opportunity they got.

A lot of Kazan students inhabited the cozy dormitories. A few who worked part-time found studio apartments around the campus and shared them with their fellow mates. But then there were the rich brats who lived with their parents in their lavish mansions and villas.

Laila belonged to the privileged lot and her lunchbox friends loved it.

They tagged along during her Parisian tours, or when her godfather gifted her a trip for making it in the top twenty. They kept her engaged in classes if they knew Mila wasn't around and Mila wholeheartedly hated them.

Suppressing her inner emotions, she plastered a smile and approached the lunchbox friends. Laila soon returned back to her best friend with warm pirozhki. Mila submersed all her senses into the flavoring and feeling of the crumbling delicacy in her hand while Laila discussed her summer break with her 'friends'. They complained about how she lost weight and looked a shade tanner, probably from a trip to the seaside.

"You did not even call us in early July. I felt heartbroken dearie."

"I am so sorry, I thought you'd need some space with your new boyfriend. Besides, I couldn't call you in front of Mila; he was her boyfriend before yours." Laila muttered while taking a bite of her ravioli. The girl was aware of the fact that her classmates used her for clout, but her godfather taught her to be respectful.

Of course, that didn't stop her from being sassy every once in a while.

Mila smirked sensing the group stiffen up and the air around turning extremely thick. It wasn't until Maria was elbowed by her boyfriend that she realized she had been dumbstruck. She immediately started laughing to cover up her flustered face.