Page 141 of The Yoga Teacher

Daniel didn’t respond at first. Just watched her. Chest rising, mouth parting like he had something to say—but whatever it was, he swallowed it.

Good.

She didn’t want to hear it.

She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, her hands suddenly shaking. Her jeans felt tight. Her skin too raw. Her mouth too dry.

She slipped her shoes on by the door, her fingers fumbling at the laces like they weren’t hers.

Behind her, Daniel’s voice came—quiet, almost a whisper. “I know.”

She froze.

Then nodded once, not trusting herself to look at him.

Her hand gripped the doorknob.

And then she left.

The door clicked softly behind her, like the sound of something ending.

The air outside was cooler than she expected, sharp against her flushed skin. The sky was turning purple at the edges, early evening sinking over the street. She climbed into the car, shut the door, and sat still for a moment. Her hands rested on the steering wheel.

Her thighs ached.

Her chest was too tight.

And her eyes—fuck.

Tears welled without warning. Hot. Unforgiving.

She blinked hard, gripping the wheel tighter.

She didn’t even know what she was crying for.

It wasn’t regret. Not exactly.

It wasn’t longing. Not exactly.

It was just… everything. All of it. The wreckage. The memory of what they’d been. The sharp contrast between Daniel’s face buried in her neck and the voice in her head reminding her not towantthat again.

She pressed her sleeve to her cheek, wiping roughly.

Then started the engine.

And drove away from the man she used to call home.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Daniel

DANIEL SAT SLUMPED in the armchair.

Dr. Ellis folded one leg over the other, her notepad resting quietly in her lap. She didn’t ask anything at first. Just waited.

The silence stretched. And stretched.

Then Daniel exhaled. Rough, unsteady.

---