The pitch report arrived first.
Dry surface. Abrasive top. Square boundaries long. Weather stable.
England liked predictability.
The problem was that the match refused to follow the script.
It was the second ODI. The series was level. The surface at Bristol looked flat on television, but by the time the toss happened, cracks were already visible under the paint.
England batted first.
They were 112 for 2 after twenty overs, cruising, when the slowdown came. The ball stopped gripping cleanly. Stroke-makers overhit. Singles dried up.
Then the first injury.
A seamer felt his hamstring tighten mid-over. He finished it. He didn't bowl again.
The captain glanced at the bench.
Zayn was already moving.
He hadn't been named in the XI that morning. He wasn't even dressed. Just training kit, spikes by the boundary.
The team manager intercepted him.
"Stay ready," he said. Nothing else.
England finished with 247. Competitive. Not commanding.
The opposition started brightly. Too brightly. England's seamers hit the deck hard, but the ball slid on. No movement. No threat.
By the fifteenth over, the over-rate was slowing and the field was spreading.
That was when the second problem arrived.
The off-spinner rolled his ankle chasing a drive. Walked it off. Bowled one more over.
Then stopped.
Two bowlers down.
The captain stood at mid-off, hands on hips, staring at the surface.
He looked to the boundary.
Zayn was putting on pads.
The fourth umpire approached. Paperwork. Quiet conversation.
Zayn crossed the rope.
No announcement. No applause. Just a substitution notice flashed briefly on the screen.
England – Concussion / Injury Substitute Activated
Utility.
He took the ball without ceremony.
Off-spin.
Not because he was the best option.
Because he was the only one.
First ball: flat. Middle and leg. Turned just enough to clip the pad.
Appeal half-hearted. Turn present.
Second ball: slower. Wider. Cut attempted.
Missed.
The batter frowned.
Zayn didn't look at him.
He bowled six overs straight. Changed pace, not angle. Used the crease sparingly. Gave nothing to hit.
Figures: 6–0–22–1.
Not match-winning.
Match-holding.
The crowd murmured, confused. The commentators scrambled for context.
"Zayn Rahman… primarily a seamer… part-time spin option…"
Part-time didn't feel accurate.
The pressure told.
A run-out. A miscue. Another wicket fell to seam at the other end.
England won with nine balls left.
In the handshake line, the captain gripped Zayn's shoulder.
"Exactly what we needed," he said.
No superlatives.
That night, the squad WhatsApp pinged.
Selection Update – Next Match Squad
Zayn's name was no longer bracketed.
No asterisk. No reserve tag.
Just listed.
The system updated.
[International Debut: Recorded]
[Role Validation: Crisis Utility Confirmed]
[Trust Index: Increased]
Zayn lay back on the hotel bed, phone resting on his chest. Outside, the city hummed.
Lauren messaged.
You bowled spin???
He replied.
Only when things break.
She sent back a smile.
So… welcome to England?
Zayn stared at the ceiling.
Not yet, he thought.
But close enough to matter.
End of Chapter 10