HIS ROOM, OUR ROOM

The next morning, reality fully set in.

We had spent the previous day preparing the house, setting up my new room, and handling logistics. But now came the part we had been avoiding—the thing that neither of us seemed eager to address.

Figuring out how to act like a real married couple.

Mark and I sat across from each other in the home office, cups of coffee in hand. The quiet hum of the heating system filled the room, an odd contrast to the weighty conversation that loomed between us.

Mark exhaled and tapped his fingers against his mug. "Alright," he started. "We need a plan."

I nodded, mirroring his no-nonsense tone. "We do."

His gaze flicked to mine. "We need to be comfortable touching each other."

I felt my stomach tighten—not out of discomfort, necessarily, but out of awareness.

"We've done that before," I pointed out, shifting in my seat. "Holding hands, leaning in close, the occasional hand on the back."