Page 78 of The Yoga Teacher

Hannah leaving.

Packing up her life, starting fresh, building something new. Without him.

He had already lost her. But this?

A distance so wide that he would become just another memory in her rearview mirror.

He forced himself to keep his voice level. “She wants this?”

Steve snorted. “Who wouldn’t?” He took a sip of his drink. “She’s got competition, though. There’s some other guy in the running. What’s his name…” He snapped his fingers. “Greg? Grant?”

Daniel barely heard him.

His mind was spinning.

Hannah gave everything to her work—to building these programs, to connecting people, to making the world better.

And if this was what she wanted—if this was what would make her happy—

Then what the hell was he doing sitting here, worrying about himself?

Steve shot him a look. “Dude, you okay?”

Daniel swallowed hard. Nodded.

“She deserves it.”

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His inbox was full, his Slack unread. A meeting invite pinged in the corner of his screen.

He didn’t care.

Daniel sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Around him, the hum of productivity buzzed, phones ringing, chairs wheeling, muted laughter from the kitchen. Coworkers passed by his glassed-in office with nods and distracted waves.

He didn’t see any of it.

His screen was open—not to the deck he was supposed to revise, not to the branding brief on his calendar—but to a blank document.

He started building the case.

This step forward, this clean slate, this new life—it was hers. Or it should be. If there was any justice in the world. If effort and goodness and selflessness ever actually got rewarded.

So he made sure it would be. He knew Hannah would be incredible in this job, and he knew he could help her get it.

He compiled everything. Her track record. Her press mentions. The testimonials that people had written and forgotten—he found them, curated them, gave them shape. Pulled numbers, data, narrative. It was the best work he’d done in years. Maybe ever.

And it didn’t matter that she’d never know.

This wasn’t about being seen. This was about beingsmall. Invisible.

It felt right, finally, to do something for her that cost him everything and gave him nothing in return.

He packaged the file with precision. Wrote a brief, clipped note. Attached the deck. Sent it.

Then he sat there.

The cursor blinked on the now-empty screen. His hands were shaking.

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