Page 146 of The Yoga Teacher

The nonprofit office was buzzing to life—emails pinging, phones ringing, the comforting shuffle of papers and coffee mugs.

She stood by the window, steaming mug in hand, watching the morning sun cast soft light across the garden just beyond the glass.

Kids were already out there—laughing, kneeling in the dirt, holding up earthworms like trophies. A retired teacher crouched nearby, gently guiding their hands.

Everything she had envisioned when this place was just a grant proposal and a stubborn dream—it was right there.

She sat at her desk and opened the folder labeledYouth Garden Initiative – Pilot Locations.Inside were photos, budget outlines, letters from parents and partner schools, all bound together by ink-stained late nights and hope.

She picked up the phone.

It only rang twice before Marcus Calloway answered.

“Hannah,” he said warmly. “I was hoping to hear from you.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Denver,” she said, eyes on the garden. “About what that job means. And what it costs.”

A pause. He didn’t interrupt.

“I believe in the mission,” she continued. “But I don’t want to leave everything I’ve built to prove I’m worthy of the next thing.”

She let the words settle.

“I want to lead expansion—from here. I want a Denver partnership, the national scope, the strategic planning. But I want to do it from here.”

Marcus didn’t speak for a second. “Now that,” he said slowly, “is a pitch.”

Hannah smiled. A slow, quiet thing.

“I’d be overseeing regional leads,” she added, voice steadier now. “Building out our youth programs nationwide. You’d get your Denver visibility—but you’d also get a hub here. A real flagship. And you want that. Because this place works.”

Marcus laughed softly. “You just closed the deal before I even asked the opening question.”

“I didn’t want to stay out of fear,” she said. “But I’m not. I just needed to know I didn’t have to run to grow.”

There was a warmth in Marcus’s voice when he replied. “Let’s draft a new title, Hannah. One that reflects what you’re really doing here.”

She blinked, a breath catching in her chest.

A new title.

A bigger role.

Not a compromise. A redefinition.

Her power. Her terms.

They wrapped the call with plans to meet next week to finalize details.

Hannah stayed at her desk a moment longer, one hand resting on the edge of the folder like it was an anchor.

She hadn’t taken a job to run away.

She had created a new job that let her rise on her own terms.

And now?

Now she could finally ask herself what she wanted—not just professionally, butpersonally.

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