My marriage was faltering long before the pandemic hit. On Valentine’s Day 2020, my partner and I made the decision to separate. He packed his belongings, and I poured myself a glass of wine, staring blankly at the vacant side of our closet. I had already informed my parents about our separation and shed tears over my crumbling marriage. I had subtly hinted to our five children that things were tough between us, saying, “Mom and Dad are taking some time apart.” A conversation with my therapist led me to believe I was ready to start anew. Meanwhile, I found myself at a hotel bar, watching news about a virus spreading across the globe, with a man I was involved with on the side. By then, I thought my marriage was beyond repair, so I sipped my Manhattan and envisioned a future without my husband.
Then COVID-19 arrived in the United States.
In light of the situation, we agreed it would be best for him to return home, with the stipulation that he would sleep in one of the vacant bedrooms in the basement. We established unspoken boundaries, avoiding each other during the day but gathering for quick family dinners to provide some stability for the kids. We sat at opposite ends of the table and spoke little, skipping any goodnight kisses. Instead, I retreated to the master bedroom while he settled in the basement. I cherished my solitude, monopolizing the TV remote and texting my new partner until the early hours of the morning.
Long before any formal social distancing measures were enacted, my husband and I had already built emotional walls between us.
As stay-at-home orders took hold, workplaces closed, colleges shut their doors, and classrooms emptied. Our adult and college-aged children returned home one by one. Reluctantly, I conceded my personal space and allowed my husband to share the bed with me once more. His clothes found their way back into the closet, and the covers enveloped us at night. Yet, we still kept a safe distance—six feet apart in the spaciousness of our king-sized bed.
One night, I lay awake, gazing at my husband’s back as he slept, trying to recall the moment our relationship began to decline. Perhaps it was when I discovered I was pregnant just a few years after we fell in love during senior year. Maybe it was when we made the heart-wrenching choice to place that child for adoption, leaving me with a heavy burden of guilt. Or maybe it was when we had child after child, and I devoted myself to motherhood while he focused on climbing the corporate ladder. The strain continued as we adopted our fourth child, and then later, when we re-adopted our biological daughter at eighteen due to her fractured relationship with her adoptive parents.
Regardless of when it started, the affection between us faded, replaced by stress. The passion we once had vanished, leaving me feeling drained. With my husband in bed next to me, clutching his pillow instead of me, I felt intensely alone.
To my surprise, our marriage began to heal in a way that was far less dramatic than the chaos of the pandemic. As my husband transitioned to working from home, I realized there was nowhere to escape—to him or to anyone else. Initially, I missed the sound of his car keys as he left for work. I reluctantly made an effort to include him in daily life. I made coffee and poured him a cup, invited him on my afternoon jogs, and offered him bites of my lunch. During happy hour, we clinked glasses of wine and shared laughter. At night, we binge-watched shows together. Gradually, I began to depend on these small yet meaningful moments.
Our conversations grew, our hands intertwined, arguments faded, and our friendship rekindled. Before long, my husband and I began to function as a team once again, united against the world. Quarantine unexpectedly became our saving grace.
I can’t predict whether our marriage will endure beyond this pandemic. What I do know is that even in the most chaotic times, relationships can heal. Hope can be found amid dire circumstances. So far, a divorce lawyer hasn’t knocked on our door, and perhaps one never will. Only time will reveal our fate.
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Summary
This article chronicles a woman’s journey through a troubled marriage that seemed destined for divorce before the pandemic. As COVID-19 forced them into close quarters, subtle moments of connection helped mend their fractured relationship. Ultimately, it highlights that love can be revived in unexpected circumstances.