Page 11 of The Yoga Teacher

The yoga studio was only fifteen minutes from her office. If she left now, she would catch him just as class was ending. They could grab dinner at that little Thai place nearby—the one with the outdoor seating and string lights that made everything feel romantic, even on a random weeknight.

In the elevator, she pulled out her compact mirror, freshening her lipstick and fluffing her hair. It was silly, really,getting this excited about seeing her own husband. But seeing him still gave her that little flutter. That warmth. That sense that she was exactly where she belonged.

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The parking lot was nearly deserted when Hannah pulled in, her headlights flashing over only a handful of cars. That was odd.

Daniel’s car was here—she recognized the familiar curve of it in the dim light—but there weren’t many others. She had expected more people lingering, chatting after class, maybe stretching outside before heading home. But the lot was still, almost eerily quiet.

Maybe class had ended early. Or maybe this evening session just wasn’t as popular as the weekend ones.

Inside, the studio was silent. The lobby was dimly lit, the soft scent of eucalyptus still lingering in the air. The usual post-class chatter, the sound of mats rolling up, the shuffle of people heading out—it was all absent.

Her gaze flicked to the class schedule posted on the wall.

Monday Night Flow – 6:30 PM - 7:00 PM

She stared at it, her lips pressing together.

7:00 PM.

That wasn’t right.

Daniel had told her 8:00. She was sure of it.

She pulled her phone out of her bag, scrolling up to his last message.Heading to yoga, see you later.Nothing about a time.

Maybe she had misunderstood. Maybe she had assumed the wrong thing.

His car was still here though. If the class ended at 7, he should have left a while ago. Maybe he had stayed behind to talk to Sienna or do a few extra stretches.

With a shake of her head, she stepped further inside, heading toward the yoga rooms. She loved this new yoga-loving side of her husband.

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The hallway was dark and quiet. Maybe Danielwasn’there. Maybe he’d run across the road to grab a smoothie and would be coming back for his car.

Hannah was about to text him when she heard his voice.

Muffled, but unmistakable, slipping through the thick doors of the studio.

Her smile softened. She’d caught him. Maybe she could tease him about this later, tell him he was the real yogi in the relationship now.

She stepped closer, hand reaching for the door—

She pushed it open.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint, then expanded into horrific clarity. Every detail sharpened, as if her brain were determined to burn this moment into her memory forever.

There was no class. No lines of yoga practitioners to block her view.

Just Daniel and Sienna.

Not stretching. Not in child’s pose.

Fucking.

Hannah's body froze, caught between the impulse to flee and the paralysis of shock.

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