Selection emails didn't arrive with drama.
No trumpet. No press release. Just a subject line that could be missed if you blinked.
England Lions – Squad Update
Zayn read it once. Then again.
He was named in a twelve-man squad for a four-day match against a touring side — not a Test nation's first XI, but close enough to matter. The kind of fixture where bowlers hunted proof and batters learned consequences.
Not televised.
Not forgiving.
Conditional cricket.
Lancashire's coach clapped him on the shoulder when he mentioned it.
"Different level of scrutiny," he said. "Same game."
It wasn't the same game.
The Lions camp was quieter than Loughborough, if that was possible. Fewer bodies. Sharper eyes. Conversations that stopped when someone new walked past.
Zayn noticed how quickly numbers replaced names.
Strike rates. Release points. Dismissal zones.
Everything tagged.
Everything remembered.
They trained once, lightly, then played.
The pitch was used. Beige. Slow underneath, with a hint of bite if you hit the right length. The opposition named three internationals and two players who would be soon.
Zayn was listed at six.
Not protection.
Insurance.
The top order did enough, then collapsed in sequence — not dramatically, just efficiently. Good balls. Small errors.
Zayn walked out at 148 for 5.
The ball was old. The bowlers weren't.
He took guard without fuss. Left the first ball. Nudged the second for one. No message sent.
By tea, he was 31 from 68.
The dressing room screens showed wagon wheels and false-shot percentages. His was clean.
One of the Lions coaches leaned back.
"He's killing momentum," someone said.
"No," another replied. "He's choosing it."
The hundred partnership came quietly. Zayn let the other batter take the risks. Rotated. Absorbed. Picked off anything loose.
When the second new ball came, he was on 78.
He changed gears once.
A pull — controlled, along the ground.
A drive — late, threaded.
Then he edged one.
Dropped.
No reaction. No acknowledgement.
He reached his hundred with a push into the covers and didn't raise his bat immediately. Only after the non-striker insisted.
Applause followed, delayed.
Not admiration.
Confirmation.
He was dismissed on 117.
Caught at short leg. Soft hands. Smart fielding.
Zayn nodded, walked off.
No disappointment registered.
[Conversion Rate After 50: Optimal]
[Shot Selection vs Field Sets: Advanced]
He bowled that evening.
Seven overs. Three maidens. One wicket — a leading edge, caught in the ring.
Again: no celebration.
The match ended in a draw, but the verdicts didn't wait.
Zayn sat with his kit packed when the head selector approached.
"You don't force games," he said.
"No," Zayn replied.
"Why?"
Zayn met his eyes. "They break if you do."
A pause.
Then: "You available next month?"
Zayn didn't ask for what.
"Yes."
That was enough.
Later, alone, he checked his phone.
Lauren had watched the scorecard.
Not bad.
He typed back.
Didn't feel big.
She replied.
That's usually when it is.
That night, the system updated again.
[England Selection Probability: Elevated]
[Risk Profile: Trusted]
Trusted.
Not talented. Not explosive.
Trusted.
Zayn stared at the word longer than the rest.
Trust meant expectation.
Expectation meant fewer chances to hide.
He turned the phone face down and closed his eyes.
England hadn't chosen him yet.
But they were clearing their throat.
And soon, they would ask him to speak.
End of Chapter 8