Chapter Eight - Hannah
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hannah
"DANIEL."
It came out barely above a whisper, but Hannah could see that he’d heard her.
Daniel’s head turned toward her, his face still hazy with pleasure—until it wasn’t. Until his gaze met hers, and everything drained from his expression at once. His mouth fell open slightly, his chest heaving, his entire body locked in place.
His body went rigid, his grip on Sienna’s hair tightening before he suddenly let go. Sienna let out a surprised gasp as she tumbled forward onto the bench.
Daniel pulled away, pulled out .
His cock was still hard—still wet—and she watched, numb and horrified.
Her husband.
The man she loved.
The man who had just been inside someone else.
She wasn’t supposed to see this.
But it was too late.
Hannah had already seen everything.
A choking sound clawed its way up her throat, but nothing came out. The ringing in her ears drowned out everything, everything except Daniel’s ragged, disbelieving breath.
"Hannah—"
Her name was hoarse, broken on his lips.
Sienna shifted on the bench. Unlike Daniel, she wasn’t frozen in horror. If anything, she looked vaguely annoyed—like Hannah had interrupted something. Like Hannah was the intruder here.
There was no panic in her expression. No shame.
Just... inconvenience.
"Oh. Hi, Hannah.”
Hannah’s stomach lurched.
Daniel lumbered to his feet, he took a step toward her—but then he seemed to realize he was still naked, still exposed. His erection had already begun to wither in shame. He held one hand in front of himself, trying to cover up, but it was far too late.
His eyes were wide, desperate.
"Hannah, I—"
She took a step back, her body finally responding, finally allowing her to retreat. But the movement was too slow, as if she were wading through water.
Sienna stretched, entirely unbothered, completely at ease in her own nakedness. As if this was just another moment in her day. As if this wasn’t the end of Hannah’s world.
"This is a lot of energy," Sienna mused lightly, glancing between them. "Maybe we should all take a centering breath?"
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Hannah didn’t remember how she got to the parking lot.
One moment, she was inside the yoga studio, drowning in the scent of sweat and betrayal. The next, she was outside, stumbling into the cold night air, the pavement unsteady beneath her feet.
She gasped, dragging air into her lungs. Nothing felt real. Her body wasn’t working right—her hands were shaking, she felt like she might vomit.
Daniel.
Her husband .
A ragged sound tore from her throat, not quite a sob, not quite a scream. Something between the two. Something primal and wounded.
She had just watched her husband—her Daniel—fuck another woman.
Not make love.
Fuck .
Crude, filthy, unapologetic.
Hannah stumbled toward her car, her legs unsteady, her entire body feeling disconnected from her mind. The keys in her hand seemed alien, unfamiliar. It took three attempts to fit the key into the lock, her fingers trembling so violently she could barely control them.
Behind her, the studio door slammed open. Footsteps—heavy, frantic—thudded against the pavement.
" Hannah! "
And there he was.
Shirtless. His hands yanking the drawcord of his sweatpants tight, his face flushed—not from yoga.
Hannah swallowed back bile.
Daniel kept moving toward her.
She recoiled. "Don’t." Her voice was hoarse, barely recognizable as her own.
Daniel stopped, his hands half-raised. His chest was rising and falling too fast, panic carved into every inch of him.
"Hannah," he said again, softer this time. Desperate.
His throat bobbed. "I—fuck—I didn’t mean—"
“ Fuck you !” The words came out sharp, slicing through the air between them. Hannah had never heard her voice sound like that before. "Don’t you fucking say you didn’t mean it!"
Daniel flinched.
“I saw you. I watched you.” Her voice wavered, but didn’t break.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair with more force than necessary.
"It was just—" He hesitated. "It was just sex, Hannah."
Hannah stared at him, at the man she had built her life around, at the man she had loved with every piece of herself, and felt something inside her shatter.
She let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking her head in utter disbelief. "Just sex?”
His jaw clenched. "I—"
"Just sex?” Her voice rose now. "That’s what you call blowing up our entire marriage? That’s what you call sneaking around behind my back? That’s what you call—"
She sucked in a breath, the memory of his hands gripping Sienna’s body flashing through her mind. "That’s what you call what I just saw?"
Daniel took a step forward, but she backed up instantly.
His face twisted in frustration. "It wasn’t about you .”
A sick, horrible silence stretched between them.
She blinked at him, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Daniel swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "It—it wasn’t about you,” he repeated, quieter now. "It wasn’t—" He exhaled sharply. "It wasn’t about us ”
Daniel ran a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "I just—I was in my own head, I was feeling—I don’t know, and she was just…” He hesitated, then finished weakly, “…there."
There.
Sienna had just been there.
Hannah stared at him, numb, the weight of it swallowing her whole.
Hannah had been there, too. But Hannah wasn’t Sienna.
Daniel kept talking. "It doesn’t mean anything, Hannah. It was just—"
"Just fucking," she finished for him, her voice hollow.
She felt nothing.
Numb.
Frozen.
Daniel took another step forward, reaching for her. "Hannah, please—"
She jerked away before he could touch her. She didn’t want him to touch her.
The man standing in front of her wasn’t Daniel. Not the Daniel she knew. That man didn’t exist anymore.
Hannah turned before he could say anything else.
She got into her car. She shut the door.
She didn’t look back.