The Quantum Gift

Layla finally dragged herself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and opened her bedroom door. Standing outside were her mom, Elif, and her best friend, Asma.

"I heard you flipping through pages last night," Elif said, concern in her eyes. "You slept really late. Don't overdo it, Layla. Studying is good, but your health comes first."

In the living room, Mr. Yılmaz—Asma's father—was delighted. Hearing that Layla was taking her studies so seriously eased his worries. With a girl like Layla studying beside Asma, there's nothing to worry about, he thought with relief.

"You don't have to worry, Mom. I know when to stop," Layla replied, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Alright, your friend Asma is here. Help her with her luggage and be good to her," Elif instructed.

Layla groaned. "Mom, seriously? Am I your daughter or is she? Shouldn't you be telling her to be good to me?"

"Oh, whatever. I'm going to the living room to speak with Mr. Yılmaz. Asma, feel at home and settle in," Elif said, walking away.

"Thanks, Aunt Elif! I'll get comfortable," Asma replied cheerfully.

As soon as Elif disappeared down the hallway, Asma marched into the room and dropped her bag with a loud thud. Her eyes scanned Layla from head to toe.

"Girl, you're stinking like hell. Did you just go through puberty overnight or something? Go wash up, seriously," Asma teased, waving her hand in front of her nose dramatically.

Layla rolled her eyes. "You're the one stinking like hell—fuck you," she snapped, half-amused, half-grumpy.

"No, fuck you!" Asma shot back with a grin.

Grumbling under her breath, Layla grabbed her towel and headed to the bathroom. "Whatever, I'm going to shower before you start scrubbing me like a maid."

"Good. Please disinfect yourself while you're at it," Asma shouted behind her.

Layla slammed the bathroom door, muttering something unintelligible, and turned on the water.

Meanwhile, Asma started unpacking and straightening up the room as if it were her own, humming a random tune. Downstairs, Elif and Mr. Yılmaz continued their pleasant conversation over tea. Emre had already left earlier that morning to play football with his friends.

13:30 PM

Layla and Asma had just finished washing the lunch dishes, wiping their hands dry.

"We're heading out to grab some sweet-for-nothing snacks," Layla called as she slipped on her shoes.

"Alright, girls. Be careful and come back early," Elif reminded them from the living room.

"Don't worry, Mom. We will, Auntie," both girls replied in sync, laughing as they walked out.

As they strolled down the road, Asma elbowed Layla. "So… what's the game plan for Sarah tomorrow at school?"

Layla's lips curled into a half-smile. "To make her regret being born. The kind of regret that makes death look like a vacation."

"Damn, girl. You're a girl, remember? You can't be that savage," Asma teased.

"She didn't remember she was a girl when she hired thugs to scar my face," Layla replied coldly. "So why should I care?"

"I get it, but stooping to her level won't fix anything," Asma said.

"Maybe not. But she needs a reminder that she messed with the wrong girl," Layla said, brushing it off.

Their banter continued as they caught a bus to their favorite garden-market—a colorful place filled with food stalls, music, and teens hanging out. The girls sampled sweets, grilled snacks, and icy drinks, snapping selfies and laughing at each other's poses.

"Look around," Asma said, scanning the crowd. "Every girl has a boyfriend. We're the only single dogs here."

Layla rolled her eyes. "You keep rejecting guys left and right. If you want a boyfriend, maybe let one stick around?"

"I'm still in high school, Layla! Why would I need a boyfriend?" Asma protested.

"Then stop complaining," Layla replied with a smirk.

They moved from stall to stall, stuffing themselves with all sorts of snacks. Asma, as always, kept the conversation on Layla's love life.

"So what about you? Every guy in school's basically in love with you. Have you ever thought about giving someone a chance? Like Can—he's been after you forever and he's literally the most handsome guy at school."

"Why would I need a handsome guy when I'm already the handsome one?" Layla said flatly.

Asma gave her a playful slap on the arm. "Aaaaish! Look at this bitch—zero humility."

But deep down, Asma knew Layla was probably the most attractive person they knew.

Suddenly, Asma clutched her stomach. "Oww… ugh, my stomach…"

"Told you to stop eating everything in sight, glutton," Layla said.

"Aaah, Layla, wait here—I need to find a restroom right now," Asma groaned, handed Layla her handbag, and dashed toward the public toilets located a bit away from the stalls.

15 Minutes Later

Too much time had passed.

Layla checked her phone, eyes narrowing. No Asma.

A strange unease crept in. Her gut told her something wasn't right.

Clutching the bag, she got up and made her way toward the restrooms, weaving through the crowd and around the stalls.

Then she saw it—and her instincts proved right.

Asma was being held hostage. A gun was pressed to her head. Her hands shook, her eyes wide with terror.

Several people were standing nearby—five individuals trying to talk the man down. Two of them—Meher and Rama—were silently stunned when they noticed Layla.

They had seen her once before.

That girl who'd taken down four street thugs in a matter of seconds. They hadn't forgotten.

But Layla didn't know them. To her, they were just more strangers in the scene.

"Listen, Hobo," Meher said carefully, her hands raised. "Take one of us. Let the girl go."

Hobo Alvarez laughed mockingly. "Do I look like a moron, Meher? Why would I give up a scared civilian for one of you secret-trained officers? I'm not here to die."

"You can take me," a calm, clear voice interrupted.

Hobo's head snapped around—so did everyone else's.

Layla stepped forward, her voice even, her eyes fixed on Asma. "She has a heart condition. You keep scaring her like this, she could have an attack and die. Then you'll be left with no hostage—and they'll swarm you. Take me instead."

Hobo studied her.

Meher and Rama exchanged a look, completely caught off guard. It's her. That girl.

"Are you playing games with me, little girl?" Hobo asked, surprised by her boldness.

"You and I both know you don't want her dead," Layla said. "And I'm not about to let my best friend die in a bathroom just because she ate too much and ran into a psychopath."

Hobo's grip tightened slightly on Asma—but his eyes narrowed. The girl was clearly terrified. Her knees were trembling.

Maybe she did have a heart condition. If she died, he'd be screwed.

And the one offering to trade herself? She didn't look scared. Not even a little.

Which made him nervous.

Meher and Rama thought if they really swapped places then our odds of catching Hobo will go up. Hobo Alvarez entered into deep thought then said, "Okay, but don't act smart with me, girl, if you don't want your friend to die."

"I'm just a little high school girl, I don't dare," Layla said. Then Layla went close to Hobo where Asma's held captive to swap.

"Layla," Asma called out worryingly.

"Don't worry. I'll be okay," reassured Layla. Then they swapped places.

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