Page 38 of The Yoga Teacher

She was supposed to beupset. Sad. Processing.

Notthriving.Notglowing.Not walking through the parking lot with a confidence that hadnothingto do with him anymore.

Daniel felt somethingtwistinside him.

Because she was fine.

Andhewasn’t.

His chest felt tight.

He had told himself—over and over again—that he just needed to talk to her, that once she calmed down, once she had time to process, she wouldunderstand.

But looking at her now, seeing the way she carried herself, the way she existed so easily in a space that hadnothingto do with him, he realized something sickening.

She was leaving him behind.

She got into her car, rolling her shoulders back before pulling her seatbelt across her chest.

She wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t hesitating.

She wasn’t looking like shemissedsomething.

And as she pulled out of the parking lot without so much as a glance in his direction, Daniel felt a sinking, crushing weight.

Hannah was moving on.

And he was still stuck in the wreckage.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Hannah

HANNAH STARED AT the email.

The subject line was blank. The body of the message was half-written—a mess of sentences she kept rewording, deleting, retyping.

Hello, I’d like to schedule a consultation.

I need advice about the next steps for divorce.

How do I even start this process?

She shouldn’t be struggling with this. She had already done the hardest part.

She had walked out.

She had left.

But this? Putting it into writing? Making it official?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Sheneededto send it.

Her office felt too quiet, too still. Outside, she could hear the usual chatter of coworkers, the soft clatter of keyboards, the rhythmic tap of heels against the tile floor.

Normal sounds. Sounds that made it feel like she was living in a completely different reality than everyone else.

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