Page 119 of The Yoga Teacher

Her phone buzzed beside her.

She glanced down.

It was from Marcus Calloway.

Looking forward to your final interview, Hannah. Can’t wait to have you in Denver. Let me know if you need anything before the flight.

She stared at the screen.

That job was everything she'd once said she wanted. Bigger reach. National funding. A chance to scale programs like this one, to bring intergenerational work to dozens of cities.

And yet.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated. The message sat unread.

The job was the dream. But… whose dream was it now?

Her eyes lifted to the garden. The hose left coiled beside the gate. The rows of baby herbs planted just last week. The chipped mosaic tile on the compost bin—a volunteer project with three second-graders and two grandmothers. Carmen’s voice laughing near the shed. Mia rolling her eyes. Daniel steadying an old man’s elbow as he lowered into the dirt.

She’d built this.

She hadn’t realized until now how much of herself lived here—in the soil, the structure, the people. Not just her labor. Her story.

Maybe it had never been about Denver. Not really. Maybe it had always been about proving something.

That shecouldgo.

That she wasn’t stuck. That she wasn’t Daniel’s shadow. That she had momentum.

But did she want to leave? Or just… prove that she could?

Was ambition about growing, or just about running?

She picked up her phone again, slowly this time. Looked at Marcus’s message once more.

Can’t wait to have you in Denver.

She didn’t open the text.

Instead, she set the phone down and looked back at the garden.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Daniel

DANIEL SAT ON the edge of the rooftop planter, sleeves rolled up, tie yanked loose. The city stretched around him—sharp-edged and glittering, indifferent.

He’d worked his entire adult life to earn respect in this industry. The title. The office with a view. The corner booth at industry dinners. The paycheck that made it all worth swallowing.

But now?

Now he understood what Hannah had known all along.

His work didn’t matter.

Not really.

He wasn’t building anything. He wasn’t helping anyone. He was shuffling pixels and peddling image while Hannah—God,Hannah—was out there changing actual lives. Creating places where kids and seniors could plant seeds together, where people could feel safe, seen, whole.

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