Page 157 of The Yoga Teacher

She swallowed hard. It burned all the way down.

“I gave you every piece of me. My body. My secrets. I trusted you to grow old with me. I trusted you to get slower and softer and braver with me. I thought we were still becoming something.”

Daniel looked wrecked. But she didn’t stop.

“I was planning gray hair and lazy mornings and creaky knees and matching pill organizers with you. And the whole time—you were dreading the life I was looking forward to.”

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard.

No tears. Not yet.

Dr. Ellis didn’t interrupt. Just watched. Present but unobtrusive. A witness, not a referee.

Hannah looked back at Daniel.

“Youbrokesomething,” she said.

He looked like he might shatter under it. But still—he didn’t speak.

She had wanted him to interrupt. To fight her. To defend it. Todenyit.

To say itwasn’ttrue. That he didn’t stop loving her. That he didn’t mean to destroy the life they’d built.

But he didn’t.

Because itwastrue.

And hehad.

She exhaled sharply. Wiped at one eye before anything could fall.

“You broke something I didn’t know could break.”

And this time, she let the tears come.

Not a sob. Not hysteria.

Just quiet, wrecking tears.

She didn’t look at Dr. Ellis. Didn’t look at Daniel.

She just folded into herself.

And waited.

For what, she didn’t even know.

The silence held. It stretched and shifted, settling between them like fog.

Then Daniel’s voice came—soft, low, like he was afraid anything louder might split her open further.

“I know.”

He didn’t rush to fill the space. Didn’t scramble to patch over what she’d just said. His voice stayed even. Tired. Devastated.

“But I need to say something,” he added, a little stronger now. “And I’m not saying it to fix anything. Or ask for anything. I just… need you to know.”

Her shoulders curled tighter, but she didn’t stop him.

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