ZAIN
Taking a deep, trembling breath, he finally opened the letter.
"Zain, my son… if you are reading this, it means I have long left this world...Because I know my death will be unbearable for you, I fear you may not read this letter any sooner… That is why I have sealed it with my will, so that even in my absence, my words will still reach you.
I know that surviving my death will be the most difficult phase of your life. But Zain, I did not raise you to be weak. I raised you to be strong....not only in body, but in heart and spirit. You will endure this pain, because you must… and because life will demand it of you."
Zain's eyes blurred with tears. His chest tightened.
"Baba… I am still surviving the pain. This agony has become a part of me ....woven into my very being."
He brushed away the moisture clouding his vision and forced himself to continue reading.
"Zain, from the moment I first held you in my arms, I forgot myself. Every joy, every dream I ever carried became tied to you. Perhaps a parent's truest duty is only this....to support their child, to help them stand tall, and to guide them toward the right path. And sooner or later, we must leave… leaving behind nothing but our prayers, and the strength we nurtured within you.
But Zain, perhaps I am the only father who needs his child's help even after his death. I need you, Zain…"
The words cut into him like a blade. Before he could read further, the door creaked open and Mr. Alam stepped in, his voice gentle but firm.
"Zain…" a voice broke through his thoughts. "Maybe you can finish it later. The meeting is about to begin."
Reluctantly, Zain folded the letter, pressing it against his chest for a fleeting moment before tucking it into a drawer. Then, with a heavy heart, he followed Mr. Alam down the corridor, each step feeling heavier than the last.
The conference room buzzed with activity, every chair occupied by staff, when the heavy doors swung open. Adam Macros....the towering CEO of LTA....entered, moving with the commanding presence of a man who seemed to own every inch of the room. Instantly, the staff rose to their feet, Zain among them. Macros was a man in his mid-fifties, his sharp features framed by a face that radiated both authority and wisdom.
"Oh, sit down, sit down," Adam waved, dismissing the formality. But his sharp eyes quickly locked on Zain.
"Zain Farooq," he said with a smile, extending his hand.
His grip was firm, almost crushing. "I must say, I'm impressed....and proud....that a player like you belongs to the LTA."
"Thank you, sir. The pleasure is mine." Zain returned the smile, though it felt heavy, painted on for courtesy's sake.
"Zain, I won't waste your time....or mine. Normally, my managers handle all contracts. But for you… I came personally." Adam's tone was polished, professional, and calculated.
Zain inclined his head respectfully. "That is an honor, sir."
Adam's lips curved. "Zain, you will be glad to know that I've doubled your salary. Here is the new contract."
But this wasn't new for Zain...last year, his salary had already been increased twice to match his performance.
At his signal, a manager placed two thick files on the table in front of Zain and Mr. Alam.
"Go through it carefully before signing." Adam leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes unblinking as he watched them.
Mr. Alam flipped page after page, his brows furrowing until his finger stopped at one line. His voice dropped, heavy with warning.
"Zain… check clause forty-one."
Zain read it ....and immediately caught what Alam meant.
"The contract binds him for three years," Alam spoke aloud.
"For three years, Zain will belong to the LTA. He may only leave London for official matches." His tone carried objection, but also challenge.
Adam's smile stiffened. "Why do you have an issue with the term length, Mr. Alam?" His words, polite on the surface, carried an undertone of irritation.
"Because the LTA usually signs players on yearly contracts," Alam replied, unflinching. "Zain has always signed one-year agreements with you. Why change it now?"
He knew the truth: Adam was trying to tighten his hold. With Zain's popularity soaring, his name rising rapidly in the world rankings, Adam wanted to cage him securely inside the LTA.
"Mr. Alam, the LTA makes special contracts for its special players." Adam's manager jumped in smoothly. "Zain is the only one offered a three-year deal. With it come more privileges, more benefits. We're protecting him as much as we're investing in him."
"But....." Alam began, unwilling to yield.
Zain raised a hand, silencing him. His voice was steady, his eyes firm.
"It's fine, Mr. Alam. I have no plans to leave LTA. My late father chose this place for me. Whether the contract is for one year or three, it makes no difference to me."
The words hung in the air, final and unshakable.
The manager slid a pen across the table. Zain picked it up without hesitation and signed wherever the lawyer directed. His signature flowed onto the paper, sealing his future.
When it was done, Zain quietly gestured for Mr. Alam to leave with him.
As the doors closed behind them, Adam Macros leaned back in his chair. Slowly, a triumphant smile curved across his lips....like a predator who had just secured his prey.
As soon as he reached the room, he stepped toward the drawer where the letter was kept.
As usual, Mrs. Staford brought his coffee.
"Mrs Staford, make sure nobody disturbs me ... not even Mr. Alam," Zain instructed Mrs. Staford, because he knew Mr. Alam would definitely come after him arguing about acceptance of the contract. He needed full privacy to read the letter.