Page 128 of The Yoga Teacher

Howdarehe be allowed this—this softness, this closeness, this body, this laugh?

Daniel’s lungs burned. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw ached.

And then—

The rage collapsed.

Fell in on itself like a wave hitting a wall of stone, breaking, falling back into the sea.

All at once, there was only grief.

Raw. Staggering.

She’d moved on. She was allowed to. She had every right to fuck whoever she wanted, to laugh with someone younger, someone new, someone who hadn’t betrayed her in the worst possible way.

He stood, slowly, forcing his limbs to move. Set the screwdriver back in the box. Closed the lid.

His limbs didn’t feel like his. Every movement was delayed, like he was a second behind his own body.

He didn’t finish fixing the gate.

Didn’t even try.

The air around him felt too still. Like the world had stopped moving and no one had told his body.

He just turned, walked out the way he came, and got into his car. His hands shook on the steering wheel. He didn’t start the engine.

He just sat there, staring at the house he used to call home, and let the silence hollow him out.

There was nothing under his skin now—just static and empty space where a heart used to live.

Because this wasn’t jealousy.

This was the cost.

And he’d paid for it in full.

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Daniel didn’t remember driving back to the motel.

One second, he was gripping the wheel so tightly his fingernails had dug into his palms, humiliation writhing like acid beneath his skin. The next, he was parked, the engine still running.

His hands wouldn’t move.

His body wouldn’t move.

He just sat there, motionless, staring through the windshield, the sound of his own breath too shallow, too unsteady.

His mind was blank. Or maybe it was too full.

Too full ofHannah.

Hannah.

His wife.

His wife, who had let another man touch her.

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