Page 113 of The Yoga Teacher

She didn’t cry.

But when she opened the kitchen drawer and found a stack of post-its and sharpies—the ones she used to leave him notes with—her chest clenched so hard it made her dizzy.

She picked up a pen. Thought about writing something.

Didn’t.

She turned out the lights, locked the front door, and stood there a moment longer, her hand on the knob.

She wasn’t sure if she’d sleep that night.

But she would try.

Because this was her home again.

And somehow, she had survived its breaking.

Now she’d see if she could survive the return.

------------------

Hannah opened the door before he knocked.

She wasn’t sure how she’d known he was there—just a shift in the air, maybe. The faint crunch of gravel. The weight of him on the other side of the door like gravity itself had changed course.

Daniel stood on the porch, hair damp from the drizzle, a single key resting in his open palm.

The brass glinted faintly under the porch light.

“I didn’t want to leave it in the mailbox,” he said. His voice was low. Careful. “Or under the mat. Felt wrong.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She just nodded, stepping aside.

He didn’t cross the threshold. Just stood there, just outside, like the house had already repelled him. Like it had made its choice.

She could see the shape of him more clearly now—thinner. Worn. Like he was still unspooling at the edges, and barely holding it together long enough to be here.

He offered her the key without fanfare.

Hannah reached out slowly, taking it from his palm. Their fingers didn’t touch.

“The side gate’s still busted,” he said quietly. “I meant to fix it before—”

“You didn’t have to,” she cut in. Not unkind. Just done.

Daniel gave a small, hollow laugh. “Yeah. I think I did.”

They stood in silence. The porch light buzzed faintly above them. A moth spun lazy circles around it.

She should’ve closed the door. Said thank you. Ended it.

But instead, she asked, “Where are you staying?”

He didn’t lie.

“A motel. Near the freeway entrance.”

She blinked. “Seriously?”

---