Page 7 of The Yoga Teacher

His father let out a sharp laugh. “Cooking classes? God, no. That’s what people do when they’ve given up.” The smile dropped off Isabella’s face.

He turned to Daniel, grinning. “I hope you and your wife aren’t sliding into—what do they call it? Domestic decay?”

Daniel forced a grim smile, reaching for his whiskey. “Not yet.”

His phone buzzed with a text from Tristan: "Tweaking the presentation. Client wants more 'youth culture' elements. Any ideas?"

Daniel didn’t reply. He just stared at the message, Tristan’s words a reminder of everything his father had just said—about youth, about staying relevant, about being the guy in the room who still mattered.

He set his phone down. Picked it back up again. Opened the yoga app.

The class Hannah had dragged him to was listed. An evening session. One spot left.

He hesitated for half a second. Then tappedBook.

A confirmation banner appeared:You’re booked for the 7pm class.

Daniel stared at it for a second, then locked his phone and reached for his drink.

He wasn’t sliding into any sort of decay.

Not yet.

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Daniel rolled out his shoulders in the warm, dimly lit studio.

Unlike the Sunday morning class, where older couples and professionals tried to squeeze in self-care, this evening crowd was different—youthful, full of energy.

Daniel settled into his mat, glancing around, trying to gauge people’s ages. Most of the class looked mid-twenties, early twenties, even. His crowd.

Age was just a number. It was all about state of mind.

Sienna was already at the front of the room, adjusting the straps of her tank top, her dark blonde hair twisted up in a casual bun. When she spotted him, her face broke into a smile.

“I was hoping you’d come to an evening class.” She crossed the room, her energy as languid as ever. “How are you feeling?”

Daniel grinned, stretching his arms behind his back. “Like I could run a marathon.” He flexed slightly, just enough to make it seem natural. “Or at least do a solid handstand.”

Sienna let out a low laugh, her gaze flicking down his frame. “That’s the attitude.”

She reached out, trailing her fingers over his forearm, a slow, deliberate touch before squeezing his arm. “I knew you had it in you.”

Daniel felt a quiet, electric thrill. Out of all the guys here, the twenty-somethings with their easy flexibility and boundless energy, Sienna was touchinghim.

It was a heady antidote to the feeling of slipping—like he was one birthday away from becoming invisible.

A slow warmth spread through his chest, settling somewhere deep. Daniel chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Gotta keep up with the pros, right? I hear yoga’s about longevity. Mobility. Staying sharp.” He met her eyes. “And I plan on staying sharp for a long time.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You havegreatenergy tonight.”

Her fingers lingered on his arm, and Daniel felt the familiar flicker of attention tighten low in his gut.

He shifted his stance, letting the grin stay easy, casual.

It feltgoodto have Sienna’s attention. “Must be the yoga,” he said, his voice deeper than before.

He wasn’t flirting with her, not really. Besides, Hannah wanted him to come to yoga.

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