Page 57 of The Yoga Teacher

“Tired,” he admitted.

Dr. Ellis nodded, waiting.

He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. “I don’t know,” he said after a beat. “I guess I thought… the more I did this, the easier it would get.”

“And it hasn’t?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “No. It’s worse.”

Her head tilted slightly. “In what way?”

Daniel swallowed, his throat dry. He had been peeling himself open, layer by layer, week after week, and it wasn’t getting easier. It was like digging up an old wound only to find the infection still rotting underneath.

But that was the point, wasn’t it?

If this was easy, he wouldn’t be changing.

He exhaled, voice tight. “I keep thinking about all the things I didn’t see. About Hannah.”

Dr. Ellis nodded, flipping her pen between her fingers. “Like what?”

His chest tightened. He hadn’t been ready to see it before—all the moments he had taken her for granted, the small kindnesses she had given him that he never fully recognized until they were gone.

“She always made my coffee first,” he said quietly, surprising himself. “Before she even made her own.”

Dr. Ellis didn’t respond, just let him keep going.

“She used to rub my shoulders when I was stressed. Even when I didn’t ask.” A breath. “She listened to me. She remembered the names of all my coworkers, even the ones I barely talked about.”

It was endless, the list of things she had given him without expectation, without hesitation.

He had let her carry all of it. The weight of their life together. The emotional labor of their relationship.

Dr. Ellis finally spoke. “And how does it feel to realize that now?”

Daniel laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Like I’m the biggest piece of shit on earth.”

She gave him a small nod, like she wasn’t disagreeing with him—but she wasn’t condemning him either. “It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

He clenched his jaw. “That’s an understatement.”

“But it’s necessary.”

Daniel let out a slow breath. He knew that. He knew that. But it didn’t make it feel any less like he was being skinned alive.

“Daniel,” Dr. Ellis said, voice steady. “We’ve talked about guilt before.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. I have plenty of it.”

“But guilt is about what you’ve done,” she said. “Shame is about who you are.” She paused, watching him carefully. “Which do you feel more?”

Daniel blinked. His stomach twisted.

“I don’t know,” he said. But it wasn’t true. He knew. He fucking knew.

Dr. Ellis waited.

Daniel’s fingers curled into his thighs.

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