Page 59 of The Yoga Teacher

Daniel felt it—the disgust, the exhaustion, the cold, creeping realization that he had been running in that same direction.

He hadhatedthe idea of aging. Had convinced himself that staying desirable, staying wanted, was the same thing as stayingvaluable.

And because of that, he had betrayed the best thing in his life.

Because of that, he had losther.

His father picked up his drink, swirling the liquid lazily before taking another sip. “When you marry again, she’ll be thesame age as the first one was on day one. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six, max."

Daniel felt his stomach turn.

"Jesus Christ."

The words left Daniel before he could stop them, sharp and disgusted.

His father raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Hannahisn’t some replaceable thing," he said, voice sharper now. "She’s the best fucking person I have ever known. And you know what?” His throat tightened. “She’s growingmoreperfect every year."

His father let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus. You sound like you’re going to go crawling back to her, begging her to take you back.”

Daniel wanted to.

If Hannah gave him the chance—hewouldbeg her. He’d crawl for her for the rest of his life if she let him.

And he’d do ithappily.

Daniel exhaled slowly, then pushed his chair back. He wouldn’t be able to sit through lunch.

His father arched an eyebrow. "What, you’re leaving?"

Daniel reached for his wallet, pulling out a few crisp bills and tossing them onto the table.

"I don’t expect you to understand," he said, voice calm now. "But I’m not going to be like you."

His father looked up, face mostly unreadable—too much Botox, too little emotion—but Daniel saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes.

Daniel shook his head. “I can change. Iwillchange.”

As he stepped onto the busy street, he thought—if she lets me…

If sheeverlets me, I would happily crawl for her.

And I would never stop.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Hannah

BETWEEN WORK, WEIGHT training, and pretending her life wasn’t still in pieces, Hannah hadn’t had a proper night out with friends in what felt like forever.

She wanted fun. Lightness. A few drinks, a few laughs—something easy. Something that didn’t feel like grief wearing lipstick.

She spotted him before he saw her.

Daniel. At the end of the table.

Her breath caught.

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