The Divorce Clause

Chapter 3: A Year Apart, Together

The door clicked softly as Hannah stepped into the house, the faint scent of lavender and freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. The familiarity of it was comforting, yet now tinged with a strange undercurrent of uncertainty. It had been weeks since she and Mark finalized the divorce. Despite the legal papers and the sudden shift in their relationship, the prenuptial agreement had bound them differently. For the next twelve months, they would live together as housemates rather than as spouses.

No longer tethered by the title of husband and wife, Hannah felt an odd sense of freedom… but also a deep understanding of loss. The house felt the same; their routines were still intertwined, yet everything had changed. They were both trying to figure out what it meant to be together without being "together."

As Hannah hung her coat by the door, she noticed Mark’s jacket casually thrown over the back of the living room couch—just like old times. She could hear the faint clinking of dishes in the kitchen. Mark was home, and the realization sent a familiar, bittersweet pang through her chest.

Walking toward the kitchen, she paused momentarily, listening to him moving about. There was no longer a need to converse about the mundane details of their days or check in with each other out of obligation. They were simply two people who happened to share a space. Yet, the memories of what they once were hovered like ghosts.

As she entered the kitchen, Mark glanced up from washing a mug, his eyes briefly meeting hers. "Hey," he greeted her, his tone neutral.

"Hey," Hannah replied, her voice softer than she intended.

They stood in a brief, awkward silence before Mark cleared his throat. "I made coffee," he said, nodding toward the fresh pot on the counter.

"Thanks," she replied, feeling a bit unsure. Was it still okay to accept such gestures from him? Were these the petite, polite interactions they would share for the next twelve months?

Mark rinsed his hands and stepped aside, allowing her to pour herself a cup. He seemed more at ease than she did, but Hannah knew that he, too, must be adjusting to their new reality.

“So… how was your day?” Mark asked casually, leaning against the counter.

Hannah almost smiled at the normalcy of the question. They had asked this same question for years—sometimes out of genuine interest, other times out of habit. But now it felt different. “It was fine,” she answered, stirring milk into her coffee. “Busy.”

Mark nodded. “Mine too. Work’s been hectic. But you know, keeps my mind off things.”

The unspoken “things” lingered between them—things like the divorce, the months of tension that had led them here, and the uncertainty of their future. They weren’t talking about it directly, but it was looming large and ever-present.

For the next several minutes, they sipped their coffee in relative silence. It wasn’t the easy, comfortable silence they used to share. This one was filled with the weight of unsaid words and unresolved emotions.

Finally, Hannah spoke again, breaking the tension. “I guess we’ll need to figure out some ground rules, huh?”

Mark looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. I mean, we should probably talk about that. What works for both of us.”

“Right,” Hannah agreed. “Like, maybe we need to set some boundaries. I don’t know… to make things easier while we’re living here together.”

Mark set his mug down, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter. “That makes sense. What kind of boundaries are you thinking?”

Hannah paused, considering her words carefully. She didn’t want to sound harsh or unkind, but they had to be clear about this if they were going to make it work. “Well, for one… Let's keep things separate. Like our rooms, for example.”

Mark nodded. “Agreed. Separate rooms. No crossing those lines.”

“And… maybe we don’t need to do everything together, you know? We don’t have to eat meals together or… or pretend like we’re still—” She stopped, not wanting to finish the thought.

Mark’s expression softened. “Yeah, I get it. We don’t need to act like a couple anymore. It’s okay.”

Hannah let out a small sigh of relief. “Okay. So, separate rooms, separate routines. But we’re still here, living under the same roof. We can… coexist.”

Mark smiled a little sadly. “Yeah, we can do that.”

They stood silently again, but it wasn’t as heavy this time. The boundaries were starting to form, the lines being drawn. It was strange to think about sharing the same house and space but leading houses and spaces but leading lives that were no longer intertwined in the way they once were.

The First Month

The first few weeks after the divorce felt like a tentative dance around each other. Hannah and Mark were careful not to overstep, falling into a new rhythm of coexistence without the pressures of marriage hanging over their heads. They’d established their boundaries: Hannah had moved her belongings into the guest room, which had quickly become her sanctuary. Mark stayed in the main bedroom, the space they used to share, but now it felt like a distant memory.

Meals were usually separate unless they happened to cross paths in the kitchen at the same time. They rarely spoke beyond pleasantries—there was no need to discuss finances, work schedules, or weekend plans anymore. Yet, despite their distance, there was an odd sense of calm.

Without the pressure to “fix” their marriage, Hannah felt herself slowly starting to breathe again. The tension that had built up over the past few years was beginning to lift. She didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or pushing Mark’s buttons. They were simply two people sharing a space; strangely, it was a relief.

But of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. There were still moments when Hannah felt the pang of loss—the realization that they were no longer husband and wife, that the bond they once shared had been severed. Sometimes, she would catch a glimpse of Mark in the hallway or the living room, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like nothing had changed. But then she would remember, and the weight of everything would come crashing down.

Mark, too, was going through his process of adjustment. He wasn’t much for talking about his feelings—he never had been. But Hannah could tell he was feeling the distance as much as she was. There were nights when she could hear him moving around in the kitchen after she had gone to bed, the quiet clinking of dishes echoing through the house as he stayed up late, restless.

An Unexpected Moment

It was a Thursday evening when something shifted between them. When Mark walked into the room, Hannah was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. He hesitated momentarily, then sat on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a respectful distance between them.

They hadn’t spent much time together like this—just sitting in the same space. Usually, they would retreat to their respective rooms or go about their routines in silence. But tonight, there was something different in the air. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the house, the comfort of being near someone who knew you so well, even if things had changed.

“I was thinking,” Mark said suddenly, breaking the silence. “We don’t have to avoid each other, you know.”

Hannah glanced at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for weeks. But it doesn’t have to be that way.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We’re still… us. We don’t have to act like strangers.”

Hannah considered this for a moment. He was right—they had been avoiding each other, trying so hard to create distance that they forgot the years they had spent together. They had shared a life and a home, and even though the dynamic had changed, they didn’t need to pretend like none of it had ever happened.

“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted quietly. “We don’t have to keep avoiding each other. It’s just… hard to know where we stand sometimes.”

Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know. But I don’t want to spend the next year walking on eggshells. We can still be… friends, can’t we?”

Friends. The word felt strange in this context. Could they be friends after everything they had been through? After a failed marriage and a divorce, was friendship even possible?

“I guess we could try,” Hannah said, though she wasn’t entirely convinced.

They sat silently for a while, the tension easing just a little. It wasn’t a perfect resolution but a step toward something better than the awkward limbo they had been living in.

The Realization

As the first month came to an end, Hannah found herself reflecting on the strange new normal they had created. In a way, living together without the marriage title had given them room to breathe. There was no longer the pressure to fulfill specific roles or meet expectations. They could exist, side by side, without the constant strain of trying to make a marriage work.

One evening, as Hannah sat in the living room with a glass of wine, she realized something unexpected. She missed Mark—not the version of him that had been caught up in the turmoil of their failing marriage, but the person he had been before things got complicated. The person she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Hannah could see glimpses of that person again without the weight of marriage pressing down on them. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new to grow between them.

But as that thought crossed her mind, she quickly pushed it away. They had agreed to divorce, and the prenuptial agreement was unambiguous. They were living together for a year, nothing more. Yet, the unexpected realization that living without the pressure of marriage might be precisely what they needed lingered in the back of her mind.

For now, they would navigate this year apart, together. Whatever that meant.