The Divorce Clause

Chapter 4: Initial Adjustment

The morning sunlight streamed through the half-open curtains, casting soft golden rays across the bedroom. Hannah stirred, her body instinctively reaching for the other side of the bed before she remembered—he wasn’t there anymore. Or, instead, he wasn’t supposed to be. The space next to her had become foreign after months of emotional and physical distance. Yet, the sounds of Mark moving around in the kitchen reminded her that, despite their divorce, they were still bound together in this unusual arrangement.

They had officially divorced a month ago, yet the peculiar prenuptial agreement they had signed years before kept them under the same roof. For a year, they would coexist as roommates, not spouses. There would be no romantic ties, no obligations to each other. It was supposed to be a way to ease their separation, a way to make the transition easier. But, in reality, it was proving far more complicated than either of them had anticipated.

Hannah sighed, pushing back the covers and sitting up. Living with Mark again was disorienting. Their marriage had crumbled under the weight of unmet expectations, emotional distance, and unspoken resentment. But now, without the label of "husband and wife," things felt…different. Lighter, somehow. Yet, old habits and feelings continued lurking in the shadows, threatening to resurface.

She padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Mark stood at the counter, his broad back to her as he worked on something. It was almost too easy to imagine this was a typical day in their old life—him making breakfast while she lingered in the hallway, preparing to greet him with a soft kiss. But that was no longer their reality.

“Morning,” Hannah greeted cautiously, pulling a mug from the cupboard.

Mark turned, his face betraying a hint of surprise. "Morning," he replied, his voice measured. She realized they were both trying too hard to be civil. Politeness had replaced the easy familiarity they once shared.

“I made coffee,” he said, gesturing toward the pot. “And, uh, some eggs.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, pouring herself a cup and settling at the small kitchen table. The silence between them felt charged, as though they were tiptoeing around landmines, and neither wanted to set off.

“So,” Mark started after a long pause, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “How are things at work?”

The question was casual, but the awkwardness made it feel loaded. It was the first time in days they had spoken beyond the basics of sharing a living space—groceries, bills, the odd comment about the weather.

“Busy,” Hannah replied, blowing on her coffee before siping. “We have a big project coming up, so it’s been nonstop.”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding. “Keeps you occupied, I guess.”

She glanced at him, wondering if there was an undercurrent to his words, but his face was unreadable. “Yeah. It does.”

The conversation died as quickly as it had started, both retreating into their thoughts. This was how it had been for weeks now: civil but distant. They were navigating the murky waters of post-divorce living, struggling to balance their past and present.

Mark cleared his throat. “I was thinking… maybe we should set some ground rules. You know, to make this arrangement easier.”

Hannah arched an eyebrow. “Ground rules?”

“Yeah, like…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Like, we should respect each other’s space. You know, make sure we don’t fall into old habits.”

Old habits. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. They both knew what he meant. The casual touches, the shared glances, the unspoken understanding that had once been the foundation of their marriage—it was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. But they were no longer married, and those things could no longer exist between them.

“Right,” Hannah agreed, though her chest tightened. “We should…avoid that.”

Mark nodded, though his eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place. “And no crossing boundaries. We’re roommates now. Nothing more.”

His words were firm, but they felt like a challenge. Hannah swallowed, trying to ignore the sting. This was what they had agreed to, after all. They had signed the divorce papers. They had chosen this path. But why did it feel like they were walking on eggshells, afraid of setting off something they both claimed to be over?

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said finally, her voice steady even as her emotions wavered. “We need to keep things clear.”

“Right.” Mark’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary before he returned to the counter, busying himself with his breakfast.

The rest of the morning passed in a tense, uneasy quiet. Hannah retreated to her office, attempting to bury herself in work, but her mind kept drifting back to their conversation. Living together was supposed to make things easier, but instead, it was stirring up all the emotions they had tried to bury when they signed the divorce papers. She had hoped that the absence of marriage would free them from their past mistakes, but in reality, it forced them to confront the unresolved feelings they had both tried to ignore.

That evening, the rain poured in thick sheets, drumming against the windows and creating a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound. Hannah curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, as the storm outside echoed the turmoil within her. She heard the front door open, and moments later, Mark appeared, soaked from the rain. His shirt clung to his chest, his hair dripping onto the floor as he shook off his jacket.

“Rough day?” she asked, her eyes flicking to him.

“Something like that,” he muttered, running a hand through his wet hair. “Got caught in the rain on my way back.”

He hesitated for a moment, then moved toward the couch. “Mind if I sit?”

Hannah shook her head, and he settled next to her, the space between them feeling simultaneously too broad and too close.

They sat silently, listening to the rain, neither willing to break the fragile peace. But the unspoken tension between them was palpable, growing heavier with each passing moment.

“This isn’t how I thought it would be,” Mark said, his voice low.

Hannah glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I thought it would be easier, living together without…everything else. But it’s not. It’s just…” He trailed off, his jaw tight. “It’s harder than I expected.”

She didn’t know what to say because it was the truth. Living together again forced them to face everything they hadn’t dealt with during their marriage. The love, the hurt, the unresolved tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rain. “I didn’t expect this either.”

Mark’s gaze met hers, and for a brief moment, the wall they had built between them seemed to crack. But then, just as quickly, it was back, more vital than ever.

“Boundaries,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “We need boundaries.”

Hannah nodded, but the ache in her chest told her that boundaries might not be enough to keep their old feelings at bay.