The Wellness Divorce

The vitamin bottles lined up on the counter like tiny soldiers in a war neither of them wanted to fight. Vitamin D for his seasonal depression, B-complex for her anxiety, magnesium for sleep they weren't getting together anymore. Three years of careful wellness routines, now being divided like assets in a particularly petty divorce.

"You take the dog," Mark said, not looking up from his phone. "I can't do the walks anymore anyway."

"That's because you never did them," Sarah said, her voice flat. "Barnaby was my dog from before us. You just happened to live here."

The cat – Sophie, named after a philosopher neither had actually read – jumped onto the counter and knocked over the omega-3 supplements. The gel capsules rolled across the granite like panicked insects.

"She hates tension," Sarah said, watching the capsules scatter. "She's always known before I did."

"Before you did what?" Mark finally looked up. His eyes were tired, the kind of tired that comes from slowly realizing something important.

"Before I knew we were done."

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the refrigerator's hum and the dog's rhythmic thumping of his tail against the sliding glass door. Barnaby, sensing something, let out a soft whine.

"I started taking your vitamins," Mark said suddenly. "The ones for focus and energy. I wanted to be better. For us."

"And they didn't work?" Sarah asked, though she already knew the answer.

"They worked too well. I finally had the energy to see what was actually happening."

Sarah nodded, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "Then we're both taking the wrong things."

She began gathering the vitamin bottles, placing half in a cardboard box marked with Sharpie: HIS. The omega-3 capsules remained scattered on the floor, a small reminder of what couldn't be divided. Sophie curled around Sarah's legs, purring, while Mark stood and walked to the door, where Barnaby waited.

"I'll come back next weekend for the rest," he said, hand on the doorknob. "For the dog."

"No," Sarah said. "Take him now. It's better that way."

Mark nodded, opened the door, and called the dog's name. Barnaby didn't hesitate. Sophie watched them go, then jumped back on the counter and began methodically knocking over the remaining bottles, one by one.