Chapter Three - Daniel
CHAPTER THREE
Daniel
DANIEL TWIRLED THE glass of whiskey between his fingers, watching the way the amber liquid caught the light. His father had insisted on this lunch, and Daniel knew from experience that refusing an invitation wasn’t worth the headache that would follow.
So here he was, sitting across from his father and Isabella in one of those restaurants that lived on social media—overbooked, overpriced, and aggressively aesthetic.
It was just two blocks from the office where he worked. He'd need to head back for a 2:30 client presentation—some athleisure brand targeting Gen Z with their new industry “disruption”.
Across the table, Isabella lifted her glass of white wine, her expression open and earnest. There was something unguarded about her.
She smiled at Daniel. “I was sorry to miss your birthday dinner.”
He forced a smile. “Yeah, it was great. Hannah put it all together.”
His father’s eyes flickered to Daniel’s agency badge, still clipped to his belt. “Still working your magic in advertising, huh?” He smirked. “Smart industry. It’s all about the youth, right? You’re in the perfect place to stay ahead of the curve.”
"The agency's doing well," Daniel said, his voice even. "We just signed that sports drink company you like."
His father nodded approvingly. “Now that is where the money is. Health, energy, longevity.” He took a sip of his drink, then added, “But you know how these things go. One day, you’re the guy calling the shots. The next? You’re the guy trying to convince some kid in sneakers why you still belong in the room.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened, remembering the new creative director they’d hired last month. Twenty-six and already featured in AdWeek's "30 Under 30."
His father leaned back in his chair, swirling the last of his drink. “Gotta stay current. Keep the right company. Say, the four of us should double date.” He turned to Isabella. “Something trendy. Show the world we’re still in the game.”
Daniel fought the urge to roll his eyes. His father acted like this sometimes, like they were just a couple of guys in their twenties rather than father and son. Like the twenty-five-year age gap between them didn’t exist.
Isabella beamed. “Oh! What about next week? I know this amazing pasta-making class—super intimate, very hands-on.”
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 tapped Book.
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 touching him .
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 have great energy 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 felt good to 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.
This was self-improvement. Exactly what she’d wanted.
Sienna laughed again, slow and warm, giving his arm another squeeze. “Whatever it is… it looks good on you.”