Chapter 7: School, shift survival

Chapter 7 : School, Shift, Survival

(Zara POV)

The next morning felt like any other, at least on the surface. I got dressed, packed my bag, and went to lectures like nothing had shifted inside me. I sat in the back row, opened my notebook, and wrote down everything the lecturer said, even though my mind kept drifting somewhere else entirely. It was easier to keep my head down and follow a routine than to sit still long enough to actually think about everything that had happened.

Jane found me between classes, exactly where she expected me to be.

“How was last night?” she asked, falling into step beside me.

“Fine,” I said, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

She gave me a look that clearly said she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push. That was one of the things I appreciated about her. She knew when to stop asking.

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “If you say so.”

I nodded, grateful for the silence that followed.

By the time classes ended, I already felt drained, but going home wasn’t an option I wanted to consider, so I headed straight to work instead. The bar was the one place where things still made sense. Orders, customers, routine, it was predictable, and right now, that was exactly what I needed.

The evening started normally. Music played low in the background, glasses clinked, conversations overlapped, and I moved from table to table like I always did. For a while, I managed to lose myself in it completely.

Until the door opened.

I didn’t even need to look up immediately to feel it. When I finally glanced toward the entrance, my chest tightened.

Ryan.

His friends trailed behind him, loud and careless, and Keisha walked in beside him like she belonged there, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She was smiling, laughing at something one of his friends said, completely at ease, like nothing had happened.

Like I had never existed.

For a second, I just stood there, gripping the tray in my hand a little tighter than necessary. Then I exhaled slowly and straightened my shoulders.

Work.

That was all this was. Just work. I walked toward their table with the same calm expression I used for every customer.

“Good evening,” I said evenly. “What can I get for you?”

Ryan’s friends exchanged looks, and one of them leaned closer to him, not bothering to lower his voice enough.

“Isn’t that your girlfriend?”

Ryan didn’t even hesitate. “No,” he said casually. “I’m done with her.”

Something in my chest shifted, but I didn’t let it show.

“Thanks to her, I met the love of my life,” he continued, his arm sliding more firmly around Keisha. “And now we’re expecting.”

Laughter followed. Light. Thoughtless. I kept my face neutral, like I hadn’t heard a single word.

“What are you having?” I asked, pen ready.

They placed their orders, and I wrote everything down carefully, repeating it back to avoid mistakes. My voice didn’t shake. My hands didn’t betray me. If anything, I sounded more professional than usual.

When I walked away, I could feel their eyes on my back, but I didn’t turn around.

I delivered their drinks a few minutes later, setting each glass down with precision.

“Here you go.”

I was about to step back when Keisha picked up her glass, took a small sip, and frowned slightly.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” she said, tilting her head.

I glanced at the drink. “It is,” I replied calmly. “You asked for...”

Before I could finish, she tipped the glass.

The liquid spilled directly onto my lap, soaking through the fabric of my clothes instantly.

A few people nearby gasped. Others leaned in closer.

“Oh,” Keisha said, her tone dripping with fake concern. “I’m so sorry. You brought the wrong order.”

For a second, I just stood there, the cold spreading against my skin.

“I didn’t,” I said quietly.

She shrugged. “Well, something must have gone wrong.”

I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay composed.

“I’ll fix it,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Of course you are,” she replied sweetly.

I turned to leave, but before I could take more than a step, she spoke again, louder this time.

“Honestly, I don’t know how she still works here,” she said to the table. “Accuracy isn’t really her strong point.”

Laughter followed, and I could feel the attention of the entire section shifting toward us.

That was when my manager appeared.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, looking between us.

“She got our order wrong,” Keisha said smoothly. “And then spilled it on herself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. I could already feel the weight of the situation tipping in a direction I didn’t control.

“I’ll redo the drinks,” I said instead.

My manager nodded, but his expression had already changed slightly, more cautious than before.

As I turned again, I noticed a few people holding up their phones.

Recording.

Of course they were.

I barely made it two steps before I felt a sharp force against my face.

The sound came a second later.

Keisha’s hand.

The impact snapped my head to the side, and for a brief moment, everything blurred. The bar fell into a stunned silence.

I turned back slowly, my cheek burning, my heartbeat loud in my ears. She stood there, looking at me with that same composed expression, like she had been waiting for this moment.

“You should learn how to do your job properly,” she said coldly.

Something inside me shifted, not loudly, not dramatically.

Just… enough.

I set the tray down carefully on the table beside me.

Then I stepped forward and slapped her.

The sound echoed louder than hers had.

Her head turned sharply, her hand flying to her face as shock finally broke through her composure.

For a second, no one moved. Then everything happened at once.

Ryan stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. His friends started talking all at once, voices overlapping, confusion and excitement mixing together. My manager rushed forward, his face tight with anger.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

Keisha recovered quickly, lowering her hand slowly as she looked at me, her expression no longer soft or performative.

Now it was something else.

“Enjoy unemployment,” she said quietly.

I didn’t respond. I reached behind me, untied my apron, and placed it on the counter without rushing.

“I quit,” I said simply.

My manager started to say something, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I turned and walked toward the door, aware of every eye on me, every whisper, every phone still pointed in my direction.

This time, I didn’t stop.

I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night air, the noise of the bar fading behind me as the door closed.

I didn’t look back.

But as I walked away, my hands trembled slightly at my sides, and deep down, I already knew that whatever waited for me next—

It wasn’t going to be easier.