Page 126 of The Yoga Teacher

She chased the high until she had it, until it crashed through her in waves—bittersweet and burning.

She didn’t collapse into his arms. She didn’t reach for comfort or closeness. She rolled onto her side, pulling the sheet up with one hand and resting the other against the center of her own chest, where her heart still thudded hard.

He touched her back, a warm, lingering gesture. And for a second, it felt like tenderness.

But when he looked at her—when their eyes met—there was noknowingthere.

No weight of history. No shared laughter or language. No scar tissue shaped like forgiveness.

It was anonymous. Intentional.

And that anonymity, for all its freedom, left a hollow echo behind.

Daniel had known every version of her body. Her scent after a run. Her voice in the middle of the night. The weight of her grief in silence. The joy that made her laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe.

This?

This was surface.

But for tonight, that was enough.

As he fell asleep beside her—splayed out and snoring softly—she stared at the ceiling.

She thought of Daniel advocating for her job without ever taking credit. She thought of the way they used to be a team. How good that had once felt. She had loved that part of marriage—being chosen, beingpartnered. Being seen.

She turned her head toward the man next to her.

Tristan was beautiful. Youthful. Easy.

But he wasn’t Daniel.

He didn’t love her.

And she didn’t love him.

Tomorrow, he would be gone.

And she would still be here.

In her house.

In her body.

In her power.

Alone, yes.

But hers.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Daniel

MARCUS WOULD BE an idiot if he didn’t offer her the position. And Hannah would leave, she would go to Denver.

Daniel wanted to be happy for her.

Marcus had texted him late:She aced it. Just wanted you to know.

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