Page 90 of The Yoga Teacher

She focused on the bed of seedlings in front of her, gently pressing a lavender plant into the dirt. The soil was cool beneath her fingers, grounding her. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake the tightness in her chest.

This didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t.

Daniel being here—Daniel getting his hands dirty, laughing with strangers, listening to an old man tell a story—it didn’t erase anything.

Not the betrayal. Not the humiliation. Not the unbearable, all-consuming ache of knowing what he had done to her.

He didn’t get to change just because he wanted to.

A shadow fell across the ground beside her.

“You okay?”

Hannah blinked and turned to see Morgan crouching beside her, a knowing look in her warm brown eyes.

“I’m fine,” Hannah lied, shoving her trowel into the dirt.

Morgan followed her gaze, eyebrows lifting slightly when she spotted Daniel. “Huh.”

Hannah scoffed. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

Morgan plucked a small tomato seedling from its tray and started digging a hole for it. “Did you know he was coming?”

“He asked if it was okay.”

Morgan hummed. “And he’s… just volunteering?”

“Apparently.” Hannah shook her head, still not quite believing it herself. “Not talking to me. Not trying to make a scene. Just… here.”

Morgan didn’t say anything for a moment. “That’s kind of a big deal, Han.”

Hannah shot her a sharp look. “No, it’s not.”

Morgan sighed, wiping her hands on her jeans. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe—”

“Don’t.” Hannah cut her off, voice taut.

Morgan frowned. “He never showed up to this kind of thing before. And now he is.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Hannah said firmly.

Morgan hesitated, then exhaled. “Okay.”

Hannah turned back to her work, shoving another plant into the soil. She could feel Morgan still watching her.

She sighed. “It’s just… he’s not supposed to be here. He doesn’t get to suddenly care about the things I care about now.”

Morgan’s voice was softer now. “But what if he does?”

Hannah’s hands stilled.

For a brief, terrible moment, she let herself consider it.

If that was true—if he had really changed, really grown, really become someone who deserved to be here—then what the hell was she supposed to do with that?

She shook her head. “It doesn’t change anything.”

---