Page 100 of The Yoga Teacher

Marla made a note and didn’t look up. “And if she asks for more?”

“Then give her that too.”

Now she looked at him.

Her expression was unreadable. Not surprised, not impressed—just wary, like she was watching a man deliberately walk into traffic.

“I want to make sure we’re being clear,” she said, voice even. “You’re not contesting anything? Not the retirement accounts,not the investment portfolio, not the intellectual property shares from your former agency?”

“As long as I have enough to live on, I don’t need the rest.”

Marla blinked slowly. “You’re walking away from a lot of money.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

A pause. “Why?”

He met her eyes. “Because I never deserved her.”

She stared at him for a beat longer than was strictly professional. Then, slowly, she sat back, folding her hands in front of her.

“You’re transferring the deed on the house.”

Daniel nodded once. “It’s already in motion.”

Marla’s tone sharpened, a little too close to personal.

“Daniel,” she said. “Are you trying to punish yourself?”

He gave a bitter smile. “I think we’re a little past that.”

Marla exhaled, carefully closing the folder. “This kind of settlement—uncontested, full transfer, immediate payout—it’ll look like guilt.”

“It is guilt.”

She raised an eyebrow, just barely.

There was a pause.

“I want her to have peace. Freedom. Stability. I want her to wake up and feel like the future is hers to shape, not something she has to survive.”

His voice thickened.

“If I can make that easier for her—by giving her the house, the money, the clean break—then why wouldn’t I?”

Marla leaned back slowly, watching him like he might fall apart right there in the chair.

“You think this is justice,” she said, not unkindly.

He shook his head. “No. Justice would be if I could take it all back.” His chest tightened. “This is the closest I’ll ever get.”

Marla closed the folder gently. “One might think you’re trying to buy forgiveness.”

“I’m not,” Daniel said. “She’ll never forgive me. I know that.”

He looked down at his hands. His nails still had dirt beneath them from the morning’s volunteer shift.

“But I still get to love her,” he said quietly. “Even if it’s from far away. Even if she never sees me again.”

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