Page 151 of The Yoga Teacher

It would mean choosing, consciously and with eyes wide open, to create something new. Something that honored both the pain and the possibility.

This wasn't about what he deserved. It was about what she wanted.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Daniel

DANIEL STEPPED OUT of the elevator and into the ghost of his old life.

Same office plants. Same exposed brick. Same scent of coffee and stale ambition. But none of it felt familiar anymore. It all felt like walking through the echo of a person he used to be.

People looked up. A few nods. No one said welcome back.

He didn’t expect them to.

His office was still there—cleaner than he left it. Smaller than it looked in his memory. He sat. Logged in. His inbox had been triaged, thinned out, declawed. No one trusted him with fire yet.

He wasn’t coming back to lead.

He already knew that.

A voice cut through the office, warm and amused.

He didn’t need to turn. He knew what he’d see: that stupidly skinny tie, that stupidly perfect hair, that smile like life had never made him bleed for anything.

Tristan.

Daniel’s spine went stiff.

Tristan walked out of the kitchen laughing, a coffee mug in hand. And then he saw Daniel.

“Yo!” He lit up. “Didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Daniel forced a nod. “First day back.”

Tristan clapped him on the shoulder like they were equals. Like he hadn’t climbed into Daniel’s former life like it was a waiting Uber.

“Good to see you, man,” Tristan said, easy. “Actually—hey, meant to ask you something.”

Daniel didn’t look up.

“I, uh—bumped into Hannah the other week. That rooftop bar near the water tower? Crazy night.”

Daniel felt his fists clench.

Tristan kept going, oblivious. “Didn’t recognize her at first. She looked—” He whistled under his breath. “Good. Strong. Like she could kill a man with her thighs.”

Daniel’s stomach turned.

Because heknewher thighs. Had gripped them while her breath stuttered. Had clung to them the night he came too fast—humiliated himself—spilling inside her before she could even finish a gasp.

And now this boy—this child in business attire—was talking about her like she was a fuckable stranger. Like she wasn’t the only home Daniel had ever known.

His hand curled around the chain at his neck, like instinct. The gold of her ring was warm against his chest.

Tristan leaned against the edge of Daniel’s desk. “Anyway. We talked for a while. She’s amazing.”

Daniel could feel the shape of her ring under his shirt. Could feel it against his skin like a brand.

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