While they were walking towards the newly opened Mediterranean café a couple of blocks away from campus, Tatie found herself quietly amused. A few steps ahead of her, Claude and Angela were already engaged in a lively conversation about the café's sweets. The place had been trending among students ever since it opened last week, known for its pistachio-laced baklava and cheesy kunafa.
Angela was animated as she talked, hands gesturing excitedly. “I swear, if they serve proper Turkish delight, I’m going to cry.”
Claude gave a shrug that tried to look indifferent, but the spark in his eyes betrayed him. “Kunafa is still better. Cheese and syrup? That’s gourmet.”
Angela scoffed. “Gourmet? Kunafa looks like a crunchy hairball.”
“Baklava is just sugar pretending to be pastry,” Claude shot b
