Page 84 of The Yoga Teacher

The sun had started to dip, the late afternoon light stretching shadows across the sidewalk. Through the large windows, he could see volunteers moving inside, setting up for the evening’s event. A mix of young and old, people who had been brought together because ofher. Because of what Hannah built here.

She belonged to this place.

And he no longer belonged anywhere near her.

Daniel exhaled slowly, running his thumb along the edge of the envelope. Inside was everything he’d been working on for the past two weeks—a fully developed outreach campaign, ready to be implemented. Flyers, social media strategies, targeted sponsorship pitches.

He’d done what he always did—analyzed the market, crafted a campaign, built a network of the right people.

Except this time, the “product” wasn’t some luxury brand trying to stay relevant. It was Hannah.

It was her work. Her mission. The thing that mattered most to her.

Daniel stepped forward, his heartbeat a steady, controlled drum in his chest. He entered the lobby, immediately spotting a young woman at the front desk.

Morgan.

Hannah’s right hand. Someone who had every reason to hate him.

Her gaze flickered to his, eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you want?”

Daniel lifted the envelope. “This is for Hannah.”

Morgan crossed her arms. “Why?”

His jaw tightened, but he kept his voice level. “Because it’s what I can do.”

Morgan didn’t reach for it. “And you think she needsyourhelp?”

“No.” The word came out quickly, firmly. “She doesn’t need me. But she deserves every advantage. And I can give her that.”

Morgan studied him for a long moment, like she was looking for an angle, a selfish motive.

She wouldn’t find one.

Finally, with a slow exhale, she took the envelope from his hands. “She won’t want this.”

Daniel swallowed hard. “Don’t tell her it came from me.”

Morgan hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before nodding toward the door. “You should go.”

Daniel didn’t argue. He turned, pushing open the glass door, stepping back into the cooling evening air.

And as he walked away, he didn’t look back.

Hannah would never know where the strategy came from.

She would never have to.

That was love now.

Not demanding. Not asking. Not hoping.

Just giving.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Hannah

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