Chapter 7: ZARA’S BACKSTORY
"I mean, what's the point of being the smartest person in the room if you're too tired to even get through the door?" This was always Zara's mantra.
Zara Albright had always been the sort of person who lived on the edge—of both intellectual debate and personal defiance. From the moment she stepped foot into Columbia Law School, it was clear that she was no ordinary student. Most students struggled to keep up with the grueling workload, but not Zara. She devoured every text, every case law, every legal precedent, and yet somehow managed to stay one step ahead of her peers. Her academic prowess was undeniable, but it was her sharp tongue and relentless challenge of authority that made her notorious among the professors.
On the first day of her Constitutional Law class, Professor Harlan had made the mistake of asking a simple question about the interpretation of the First Amendment. He was expecting a textbook answer, but Zara wasn't interested in regurgitating what was already written. She raised her hand, an impish smile dancing across her lips. "Professor, with all due respect, isn't the problem with this interpretation that it assumes the framers of the Constitution knew exactly how the modern world would evolve?"
The room fell silent. Professor Harlan had adjusted his glasses and studied Zara for a moment. "Interesting point," he said, clearly caught off guard, but the challenge was only just beginning. "And what exactly would you propose as a more fitting interpretation?" He asked.
Zara leaned forward, eyes glinting. "I would argue that the Constitution is a living document, not a relic of the past. It should be viewed through the lens of contemporary society, not just historical context. The freedom of speech, for example, might have been limited to certain forms of expression in the 18th century, but in our digital age, it should encompass social media platforms and emerging technologies."
A murmur rippled through the class. This was not the type of answer Harlan was used to, nor was it the type of answer most students dared to give. But Zara wasn't most students.
Her classmates, at first in awe of her audacity, had started to respect her. But some resented the attention she garnered. Zara didn't care; she wasn't there to make friends, she was there to challenge herself, to carve a path that no one had dared to walk before and to become the best damn lawyer the world has ever seen.
Her family, particularly her older brother Marcus, didn't understand her drive. Marcus, a successful entrepreneur, often called her "idealistic" and "naive" for wanting to enter the cutthroat world of law. He believed that the law was a tool to be used for power, not to right the wrongs of society. Zara, on the other hand, believed in its potential to bring real change, even though she knew the system had its flaws.
One evening, Zara sat in the cramped living room of her apartment, a mug of cold coffee by her side, her textbooks scattered around her. Marcus had called again, his voice carrying the same frustration that always seemed to simmer beneath his words.
"Zara, you're wasting your time. You're fighting a system that's too big for anyone to change. It's rigged, and you're going to burn out if you keep going this way."
Zara rolled her eyes, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I'm not trying to change the world in one go, Marcus. But if no one's willing to challenge the system, then what's the point of learning about it at all?"
Her brother let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I just want you to be realistic. You can't take on everyone and everything at once. Look at yourself, you're already running on empty."
But Zara didn't need his approval. What she needed was to prove to herself that she could stand her ground in the face of adversity. She had always been stubborn that way. In fact, her defiance was part of what had made her an exceptional law student. She wasn't afraid to ask the tough questions or make waves. She didn't take things at face value, especially not from authority figures.
But Zara's strength wasn't without its consequences. Her grades had slipped just slightly in the first semester after she began challenging every professor. Some of her peers started whispering about how she was "too rebellious" or "too arrogant." But Zara was undeterred. She knew that real lawyers, the ones who made a difference, weren't the ones who played it safe, they were the ones who questioned the status quo.
One particularly late night, Zara was preparing for her final exam in Civil Procedure. She had barely slept in the past week, her eyes bloodshot and her body ached from the endless hours hunched over books. But the pressure didn't faze her; in fact, she thrived on it. She was on a call with her best friend, Jenny, another student at Columbia, but one who always had a more relaxed approach to academics. They'd been friends since their first year, and although they were polar opposites in many ways, they had always shared a sense of humor that kept them sane in the madness of law school.
"I swear, Zara, if you keep pulling all-nighters like this, you're going to implode," Jenny said, her voice lighthearted but filled with concern. "I mean, what's the point of being the smartest person in the room if you're too tired to even get through the door?"
Zara chuckled, despite the exhaustion weighing down on her. "I'm not trying to be the smartest. I just want to be the most prepared."
Jenny sighed dramatically. "Well, at least take a break. Go get some food. Please."
Zara glanced at the clock. It was 3 a.m. She knew she should eat, but her brain was buzzing with the legal theories she was studying. "Food is overrated," Zara muttered, flipping through her notes as she chuckled. "I'm going to ace this exam, and then I can sleep for a year."
Jenny snorted. "You're insane. But hey, if you pass this exam, we'll both go out and celebrate. I'll even let you order the most expensive thing on the menu."
"Deal, but who's paying? Zara asked, "who said anything about paying? We get to work there for a bit and we get paid with the most expensive thing on the menu" Jenny says cheekily, "the best part is, we're even the ones getting paid to eat expensive food" she laughs.
Zara scoffs and rolls her eyes before returning to her notes. "But seriously, Jenny, I'm almost done with this case. I think I'm starting to get the hang of these procedural rules. I'm not going to stop until I figure this out."
Jenny laughed. "You really do enjoy torturing yourself."
But Zara's mind was elsewhere, already diving back into the complexities of civil procedure. Her thoughts, however, began to drift, just as she heard Jenny's voice grow fainter in the background. The world was slipping into a blur, a haze of exhaustion and determination, and that's when it happened.
A few minutes after, Zara decided to drive to a store to pick up a snack while still on a call with Jenny, they did EVERYTHING together and that way, they always knew how and when to comfort each other. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft, silver glow over the empty streets. She was distracted, caught between the exhaustion of studying and the excitement of finishing her exams.
As Zara drove, with her phone and her favorite novel in the passenger's seat, she is still on a call with Jenny but they're both silent and not saying much but are enjoying the comfort that comes with the silence.
Tonight, although on the call with Jenny and the cool breeze hit her face gently, her mind was elsewhere—on the pages of The Burning Heart (Her favorite novel, the one she'd been reading for months) that lay open on the passenger seat beside her. She had done this countless times before, reading while driving, especially on late nights like this when the city felt empty.
Tonight, She was nearing the end, and the suspense had her hooked.
But then, as the words blurred together in her tired eyes, the protagonist did something that made Zara's blood boil. Something stupid that made no sense to Zara, given everything she had fought for, everything she had endured.
The woman, who had always stood her ground, gave up everything just to chase after a man who had never truly cared for her.
Zara slammed the book down in frustration, her eyes narrowing.
"This is nonsense!"
Zara's emotions were bubbling over, her hands gripping the wheel as if she could will the injustice of the novel away.
Her best friend, Jenny had was on the other end of the call, catching every moment of Zara's anger.
"Zara, what's going on?" Jenny's voice cut through the tension, a calmness in Zara's storm of frustration.
"She's just…she's just so dumb!" Zara's voice was full of disbelief. "How can she do that? After everything?"
Layla chuckled softly. "You're getting worked up over a fictional character again?"
She shifted the phone to her other ear, both hands still on the wheel. Her heart pounded in her chest, her fingers tingling with agitation as she turned the corner, too quickly, distracted by the heated conversation and her thoughts about the protagonist.
And then, everything went still.
The car swerved slightly, the tires screeching as she jerked the wheel too hard, her foot pushing down on the brake too late. The lights from an approaching vehicle blinded her in an instant, the glare overwhelming her vision.
She gasped with her eyes wide open, as she tried to correct her course, but it was no use. The road was too narrow, the speed too high. Her heart raced, the panic creeping up her throat. In a split second, everything went wrong.
The crash was inevitable.
The sound of metal crunching against metal filled her ears as the car spun out of control, the world around her was becoming a blur of lights and noise. The final thing she heard before everything went black was Jenny's panicked voice, shouting her name through the phone.
"Zara? Zara!"
But Zara didn't hear the words.
She was already gone.