The Divorce Clause

Chapter 2: The Prenuptial Agreement

The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the ceiling fan above. Hannah sat across from Mark at the dining table, and the document they had spent hours drafting was laid out between them. The thick silence seemed to weigh heavier than the words they’d just exchanged, as if every breath held the gravity of their decision.

Mark sat with his fingers drumming against the table, a nervous energy buzzing around him. The idea of a prenuptial agreement, especially one as unorthodox as the one they had conceived, still felt strange in his mind. Marriage was supposed to be about love, trust, and forever. Yet here they were, preparing for an eventuality neither wanted to face but both had to acknowledge.

“So,” Hannah said softly, her voice breaking the silence, “we’re doing this?”

Mark looked at her, his expression unreadable. “It feels like the only thing that makes sense right now.”

Hannah nodded slowly, her mind replaying the last several months— the fights, the miscommunications, the cold silences that had settled between them like uninvited guests. What was once easy between them had turned into a delicate dance of avoiding triggers and trying not to say the wrong thing. Their marriage was fragile, and they both knew that without drastic action, it wouldn’t survive much longer.

She had loved Mark deeply once, and some of her still did. But the years had changed them and burdened them with responsibilities, disappointments, and unspoken resentments. It wasn’t that they didn’t care about each other anymore—it was that caring wasn’t enough. Not for them, not anymore.

Hannah glanced down at the paper again. “If we sign this, Mark, there’s no going back. It will be official. If we divorce before the ten-year mark, we’ll be tied together for an extra year.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands before running them through his hair. “I know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But maybe that’s what we need. A way to force ourselves to figure things out—without the pressure of ‘saving the marriage’ constantly hanging over our heads.”

He had a point. The weight of marriage had become suffocating. The expectations and the need to fulfill some societal image of a perfect couple had taken a toll on them. The prenuptial agreement they were about to sign wasn’t a typical legal arrangement about finances or property. It was about time—time they might not otherwise give each other.

Hannah sighed, leaning forward, her elbows on the table as she looked him in the eyes. “I’m scared, Mark.”

His eyes softened as he reached across the table to take her hand. “I am, too.”

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, hand in hand, the enormity of their decision settling around them. There was fear, yes, but also a strange sense of relief. Finally, they acknowledged the state of their marriage, no longer pretending everything was fine.

“Let’s go over the details again,” Hannah said finally, pulling her hand back and straightening the papers before her.

The prenuptial agreement was straightforward but held significant weight in its simplicity. If they reached the point of divorce before their tenth wedding anniversary, they would remain living together for one additional year. During that year, they would no longer be married in the legal or emotional sense. No more expectations, no more pretending. They would exist in each other’s lives as companions, not bound by the title of husband and wife. At the end of that year, they would either part ways for good or—perhaps—they might find a way back to each other.

“Point one,” Hannah read aloud, “if either of us files for divorce before our tenth anniversary, we are obligated to continue living together in the same house for twelve months following the divorce.”

Mark nodded, his expression serious. “That’s to give us a chance to rebuild without the pressure of marriage. Just two people figuring out if there’s anything worth saving.”

Hannah continued. “Point two: During that year, we are not obligated to behave as a married couple in any way. No obligations to share a bedroom, no expectations of intimacy, and no joint financial responsibilities.”

This was where it got complicated. They would still live under the same roof, but their lives would be separate. It was a strange and unsettling thought for a marriage built on the idea of togetherness. Could they coexist like that without falling back into old habits or letting resentment build further?

“Point three,” she read, her voice wavering slightly. At the end of the twelve months, we will decide whether to continue our lives together or part ways permanently.”

Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “This is the hardest part. Knowing that no matter what happens, we’ll have to choose at the end of that year. Either we figure out how to make this work or walk away for good.”

Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat. “It feels like a second chance, but also a ticking clock.”

“It’s both,” Mark agreed. “It’s giving us time, but it’s also forcing us to face the reality that we might not be able to fix this.”

She looked up at him, searching his face for signs of doubt. He looked as conflicted as she felt—torn between wanting to save what they had and accepting the possibility that it might not be savable. Still, they had a sense of mutual understanding that hadn’t existed for a long time.

“We have to be honest with each other during this year,” she said firmly. “No more avoiding hard conversations. If something’s bothering us, we talk about it.”

Mark nodded, his jaw set in determination. “Agreed.”

There was a finality as Hannah picked up the pen and signed her name at the bottom of the document. The ink felt permanent, binding her to this decision in a way that terrified and relieved her. She passed the pen to Mark, who hesitated momentarily before signing his name.

The room was quiet again as they sat back, staring at the paper that now bore their signatures. It felt surreal, as though they had just crossed an invisible line in their relationship—one that would dictate their future, for better or worse.

“Well,” Hannah said softly, breaking the silence, “that’s it. The agreement officially binds us.”

Mark looked at her, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I guess we are.”

For a moment, Hannah wanted to reach out to him, to pull him into an embrace and pretend that everything would be okay. But they were past the point of pretending. The only thing they could do now was move forward, one day at a time, and see where the path would take them.

The days following their signing of the prenuptial agreement were a strange mix of normalcy and anticipation. On the surface, nothing had changed—they still went about their daily routines, went to work, shared meals, and slept under the same roof. But there was an underlying tension, a quiet acknowledgment that their relationship was now operating on borrowed time.

Hannah found herself hyper-aware of every interaction with Mark. She noticed the way he still made her coffee in the mornings and absentmindedly brushed his hand against hers when they passed each other in the hallway. Small, familiar gestures that once felt comforting now felt fragile, like remnants of a life they were no longer sure they could sustain.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch watching a movie, Hannah wondered if this was how it would be during the year they were meant to live together post-divorce. Would they still sit side by side, sharing space but no longer bound by the title of husband and wife? Would they become strangers, merely cohabiting for the sake of an agreement?

“I’ve been thinking about the year we’ll spend together after the divorce,” she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Mark glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. “What about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “I just wonder what it’s going to feel like. If it’ll be awkward, or if we’ll be able to… I don’t know, coexist without all the pressure.”

Mark leaned back, considering her words. “I guess it’ll depend on how we approach it. We have to be honest with each other, as we said. If we’re not, it’ll become another year of resentment.”

Hannah nodded, her stomach churning at the thought. Honesty had always been brutal for them, especially when their communication had broken down in recent years. Could they be honest now when so much was at stake?

“There’s something else,” Mark said after a long pause. “I’ve been thinking, too. About the future. What if… What if that year gives us what we need to make this work? What if we fall in love again?”

Hannah looked at him, her heart skipping a beat. The thought had crossed her mind, too, but she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it. Could this prenuptial agreement catalyze them to rediscover the love that had once brought them together? Or was it simply a way to prolong the inevitable?

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I want to hope for that. But I also don’t want to set myself up for disappointment.”

Mark reached for her hand, his grip warm and reassuring. “We’re doing this because we’re giving ourselves a chance. Whatever happens, at least we’ll know we tried.”

Hannah squeezed his hand, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Maybe he was right. Maybe this unconventional agreement was their way of finding a path back to each other.

Or it could be the beginning of the end.