Page 172 of The Yoga Teacher

She stared at him, heart thudding.

God.

He thought this was casual.

He thought she’d invited him into her bed, but not into her life.

She reached down and cupped his face in both hands.

“Daniel” she whispered. “Yes.”

He looked stunned. Like the floor had dropped out from under him and he was still floating.

“I wantus,” she said. “Not the old us. Not the broken version. This one. The one where we mean it.”

A sob clawed out of him. He didn’t fight it.

“And I want to start the new usnow.”

She lent down and kissed him.

Slow. Fierce. Certain.

And then again, softer. A kiss that felt like a promise with no deadline.

They undressed each other piece by piece. Not rushed. Not frantic. Just reverent. Like rediscovering something you never thought you'd see again.

The bed welcomed them like it remembered, but neither of them moved like they used to. There was no muscle memory left to fall back on. They had to learn each other again, from scratch.

And that made it real.

His hands were trembling when he touched her. She held them steady.

She was breathless when he whispered her name like it was an apology and a prayer all in one.

They made love like two people who knew the cost.

Every kiss. Every gasp. Every time he whispered,Is this okay?and she said,Yes, yes, please—yes.

It wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t even just emotional.

It was reclamation.

It was rewriting.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Daniel

HE WOKE UP to sunlight and her breathing.

For a second—just one—he thought it was a dream. Then she shifted under the covers, and her bare leg brushed his. And he remembered.

It was real.

His heart clenched so hard he thought it might bruise.

Hannah. In his arms. Not distant. Not gone. Here.

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