Page 80 of The Yoga Teacher

Because he deserved to hurt. He deserved the late nights, the loneliness, the silence.

But she didn’t.

She deserved everything good and light and beautiful. A job that mattered. A city that welcomed her. A kitchen with laughter in it. A man—God, hopefully—a man who held her heart gently, not like something owed, but somethinghonored.

Daniel would never be that man.

But he could clear the way.

He could tear himself down and build something solid beneath her feet.

And that would be enough.

Ithadto be.

He pressed his palms against his eyes, hard.

Then leaned back in the chair and let the grief curl around him like smoke.

She would never know.

That was the beauty of it.

That was the punishment.

And the gift.

He would always be her husband.

Not in life. Not in law.

But in what he gave up.

And what he gave away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Hannah

HANNAH DIDN’T FEEL scorned or discarded.

She didn’t feel broken.

She just felt good.

Her palm skimmed warm skin, steady and sure, pressing until he shifted beneath her. She moved how she wanted—slow, deliberate, in control. She set the rhythm. Chose the pace.

When she leaned forward, bracing herself above him, it wasn’t about trust. It wasn’t about emotion. It was about feeling.

Everything about this was easy.

There was no weight to it. No expectations. No unspoken history curling between their breaths.

Just sensation.

When he slid into her, her breath caught—not from tenderness, but from pressure and heat. The stretch. The slide. The low hum of pleasure as her body responded.

It felt good.

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