2025-12-05 18:23:30
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Chapter 88 The Spotlight
The structured routine of school, quiet channel work, and the occasional, manageable modeling session had lulled Zaid into a sense of normalcy. The attention from the Summit Athletics campaign was contained, he thought, to the glossy pages of a catalog and the brand’s social media feed. It was a separate, professional compartment of his life. That illusion was shattered by a simple call from Bassam.“Hey, Mr Model. You’re not at a photo shoot today, are you?” Bassam’s cheerful voice came through the phone after school.“No, I just finished studying. Why?”“I’m starving. Let’s go eat. My treat. A celebration.”“Celebration for what?” Zaid asked, packing his books into his bag.“You’ll see. Meet me at the shwarma place near the dorms in twenty.”The familiar, greasy restaurant was a welcome sight, a world away from studio lighting. Bassam was already there, saving a small table in the corner. He had a look of barely-contained excitement on his face. They ordered their usual—two chicken
Chapter 87 The First Session
The email from Saeed sat in their inboxes like a gleaming, unopened gift box. The standard contract was attached, a PDF of dense legal language that felt both intimidating and legitimizing. They printed two copies, the ink still smelling of possibility and fine print.Their first stop was Zaid’s home. His mother was in the kitchen, the familiar, comforting scent of onions sautéing in ghee filling the air. She wiped her hands on her apron as they approached, her eyes immediately catching the serious, expectant looks on their faces.“Mama, we need to ask you something important,” Zaid began, his voice tighter than he intended. He placed the printed contract on the small kitchen table, smoothing out a curl in the paper.His mother sat down, pulling her reading glasses from the pocket of her apron. She read in silence for a long time, her finger tracing the lines. Zaid and Khamees stood like nervous petitioners, watching her face for a flicker of disapproval or worry. She asked a few clar
Chapter 86 A Clear Image
The sleek, glass-fronted office of Summit Athletics felt a world away from a school hall or a cluttered bedroom studio. Zaid fidgeted in the plush waiting area chair, his good jeans feeling stiff and his collar too tight. Khamees, sitting beside him, was the picture of studied calm, but Zaid could see the subtle tap-tap of his fingers on his knee. They were both playing a role, pretending to be older, more assured than they felt.“Mr. Zaid? Mr. Khamees?” A man in his late forties, with a kind, crinkled face and a head of neat, silver-flecked hair, approached them. He wore a smart but relaxed blazer over a polo shirt bearing the Summit logo. “I’m Saeed, the brand manager for the regional youth line. Please, come in.”His office was warm and cluttered with mood boards, fabric swatches, and prototype sneakers. He gestured for them to sit. “First of all, thank you for coming. That photo,” he said, nodding at Zaid, “it had a certain… authenticity. It’s what we’re trying to capture. Not jus
Chapter 85 A Twist Of Faith
The peace that followed the reconciliation was not the fiery, ambitious drive of before, but something slower and more deliberate. Zaid’s world, which had been spinning wildly around the axis of the channel, finally stabilized, allowing him to see the other pillars of his life that had been neglected.He immersed himself in his studies with a monastic focus. The numbers and theories in his textbooks were a refuge—their problems had clear solutions, unlike the messy equations of his personal life. He spent long hours in the library, his phone buried in his bag, and slowly, his grades began the arduous climb back from the brink. He knew good marks were a currency, a different kind of capital he needed for a future he couldn’t yet define.Beyond the classroom, he became a whirlwind of pragmatic activity. He joined the school’s tennis club, not out of any great love for the sport, but because he’d heard it looked good on university applications for leadership and teamwork. He swung the ra
Chapter 84 The Lock Opens
The world after the interview had shrunk to the four walls of Zaid’s room. The humiliating, obedient walk back into that studio, the cold exchange with Amina Al-Fiqhi, it had extinguished something in him. He felt fossilized. He stopped going to classes. He silenced his phone, letting the notifications from the now-released interview (a bland, heavily edited segment where he looked shell-shocked) pile up unread. He existed in a state of suspended animation, floating in the shame of his own compliance.A soft, persistent knock on his door finally pierced the fog on the third afternoon. He ignored it. It came again, more insistent.“Zaid? Cone on, open the door. It’s Bassam.”Zaid didn’t move. The kindness in Bassam’s voice felt like an accusation.“I know you’re in there. I brought kunafa.” A pause. “And Khamees is with me.”That got a reaction. A jolt of something, anger shot through Zaid’s numbness. He didn’t want to see Khamees. He couldn’t face the evidence of his own failure and t
Chapter 83 The Trauma Merchant
The night was a flat, endless desert of dread. Zaid didn’t sleep. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the producer’s ultimatum and Khamees’s final, cold words echoing on a loop. Liability. Lawsuit. Alone. The words morphed into his mother’s anxious face, into the shame of explaining he’d brought legal trouble upon them. By 4 AM, the fight had bled out of him completely, leaving only a cold, numb obedience. He had no cards left to play. He sent a terse email to the producer’s assistant: “I will be there tomorrow. I apologize for my unprofessional behavior.”The return to the studio the next afternoon was a walk to the gallows. Everything was the same, the coiled cables, the buzzing lights, the hurried crew, but the atmosphere was different. A frosty, contemptuous silence hung in the air. Where there had been polite, if hurried, professionalism before, now there were only curt instructions and averted eyes. He was a problem to be managed, a piece of difficult cargo to be shippe
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