The winter sun in Utah was doing its best impression of warmth when Meghan Markle and Prince Harry walked into Sundance this January: matching smiles, coordinated neutrals, a carefully curated picture of unity. They were there to promote Cookie Queens, the feel‑good documentary they executive-produced through Archewell. The photos did what they were meant to do—flooded Instagram, reassured fans, reminded Hollywood they still exist as a double act.
But several thousand miles away, in the quieter corridors of Buckingham Palace, people were apparently gaming out a very different picture: Meghan Markle walking away, Prince Harry alone, and two royal children whose futures would need to be mapped out in ink.
For years, the idea that palace staff would sit down and sketch out a “Sussex divorce plan” was treated as tabloid fan fiction. Now, according to multiple reports in the UK, senior courtiers have drafted a “just in case” blueprint—covering money, titles, and who gets to decide where Archie and Lilibet go to school.
That planning doesn’t mean a split is imminent. It does, however, speak volumes about how vulnerable the marriage is perceived to be inside the royal machine and among people close to the couple.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle blew up the royal script in 2020 when they stepped back from official duties and moved to California. Back then, the story was simple and romantic: “us against the world,” a couple choosing mental health and autonomy over duty. Six years on, sources quoted in the British magazine Heat UK describe something grittier.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s latest Archewell Productions venture may be their last chance to win over Hollywood.
Read more: https://t.co/0CXVCCVJkr pic.twitter.com/PJDJMqQHb8
— Wonderwall (@Wonderwall) February 11, 2026
“They are still publicly pushing the ‘us against the world’ narrative, but their professional lives have split in two,” one insider said. “They’re on very different schedules now and spending lots of time apart. They come together for the occasional one-off appearance to keep up the image of being a team, but most of the time, they’re operating individually.”
That is the unglamorous heart of this: not some explosive fight at a Montecito mansion, but the slow, familiar drift that sinks a lot of forty‑something marriages. Kids. Work. Money. And the unsettling realization that you no longer move through the same world.
Friends say Meghan Markle, now 44, is all‑in on building her lifestyle brand, American‑style networking, and keeping a foothold in Hollywood. Prince Harry, 41, reportedly finds that scene boring at best and fake at worst. His energy, according to those same sources, has gone back into Invictus—the sports and rehabilitation project for wounded service members that is still his most respected legacy—and into high‑paid speaking gigs.
“They’re also moving in very different social circles,” the insider added. For a marriage that was sold as a modern fairy tale, there is something quietly brutal about the suggestion that what’s really corroding it is boredom and incompatible calendars, not palace intrigue.
Layered on top of that very human mess is the cold logic of an institution that has been burned before. The royal family still carries scars from King Charles and Princess Diana’s implosion, from Andrew and Fergie, from watching private misery play out in tabloid headlines for years. No one in the palace wants a repeat—especially not involving the couple who were supposed to be the shiny, diverse reboot.
This is what Harry has reduced himself to. Hawking overpriced chocolates to prop-up his wife’s latest vanity project. Oh how the mighty have fallen! #MeghanMarkle #PrinceHarry#RoyalFamily #CelebNews pic.twitter.com/JNdbukHlVc
— Harry, Meghan’s Spare (@ViQueenie) February 6, 2026
According to reporting from last fall, courtiers have prepared a contingency plan—an emergency exit route should Prince Harry and Meghan Markle ever decide they are done. The outline, as described to Heat UK, is telling.
First, money. Any settlement would reportedly involve a “golden handshake”: generous enough to avoid a public brawl, but “heavily structured,” which is royal‑speak for strings attached.
Second, titles. Under the alleged plan, Meghan Markle would keep “Duchess of Sussex” as a face‑saving measure. That detail is almost absurdly on‑brand for the Windsors: a title as both consolation prize and leverage. You can still be Duchess, the subtext goes, as long as you play by the rules we’re about to hand you.
And then there are the children. Palace aides, the reports claim, want Archie, now 6, and Lilibet, 4, “pre‑mapped in meticulous detail” until they turn 18. Where they live. Who holds legal custody. Which schools do they attend. What travel is allowed, and who has to sign off on it. All of that was drafted in advance so there would be no replay of the Charles‑Diana custody wars.
On a practical level, it isn’t hard to see the logic. If your job is to protect the crown, you plan for every nightmare scenario, especially when two American‑based royals have proved they are willing to go fully off‑script. But there is something undeniably chilling about civil servants in London drawing up the next decade of life for two U.S.‑born kids on the off‑chance their parents’ marriage disintegrates.
Dear Royal Family,
Please do Prince Harry and Meghan Markle the ultimate favour and finally remove them from the burden of any connection with the royal family.
They have spent years publicly criticising the institution across interviews, documentaries, books, & commercial… pic.twitter.com/MGHuDAcSly
— Queen Esther (@XOQueenEsther) February 5, 2026
It also underlines something Sussex loyalists have been saying since day one: whatever “freedom” Prince Harry thought he bought with that Netflix money and the Montecito compound, the monarchy’s grip on his life—and on his children’s options—has never really gone away.
Complicating the emotional geometry is Prince Harry’s reported desire to rebuild ties with his family. Friends say he wants to spend more time back in the U.K. and “build on the truce” with King Charles. Meghan Markle, who has been open about feeling targeted and unprotected during her time as a working royal, is said to have far less interest in returning to Britain beyond the occasional obligation.
The compromise, according to Heat UK‘s source, is a kind of commuter marriage: Harry blocking out regular trips to the U.K. for work and reconciliation, Meghan Markle staying in California but “supportive” of the plan in theory. “This career arrangement isn’t doing them any favors as a couple,” the insider said, drily. Anyone who has tried living on planes and FaceTime with a partner in another city knows how fast “temporary” can harden into a new normal.
And then there is the money. Prince Harry’s memoir Spare reportedly earned close to £20 million (about $25 million), but their expenses are eye‑watering even by California standards. British outlets report that the couple put their private security at up to £2.2 million a year, on top of a reported £7 million mortgage on their Montecito home, household staff, and professional teams. The Spotify deal is over. Several high‑profile Netflix projects have stalled.
Meghan Markle’s lifestyle show, With Love, Meghan, was canceled after two seasons. A touted documentary about Africa for Harry never materialized. Their glossy reality series, Polo, ran for one season. The one big project still technically alive is a film adaptation of Jasmine Guillory’s romance novel The Wedding Date.
Prince Harry’s world is full of sweetness, two beautiful children, a stunning wife, chocolate made by wife Meghan’s As Ever, flowers, great foods, a beautiful home with a gorgeous garden w/ the greatest views, etc
And over there dark scandals and destructive attempts at coverup. pic.twitter.com/u43XiPsx0X
— Carmella (@Sussex5525) February 5, 2026
It is not hard to connect those dots: financial pressure, diverging careers, geography, unresolved trauma with “The Firm,” and two small kids in the middle. It’s the stuff any good couples therapist would flag in a heartbeat.
To be clear, there is no solid evidence that Meghan Markle and Prince Harry are about to announce a divorce. They say they are fine. Friends insist they are committed. But perception matters—especially in a royal ecosystem obsessed with optics. When even sympathetic commentators are talking openly about a palace divorce playbook, when the public work is mostly solo, and the joint appearances feel like brand management more than glimpses of a shared life, “divorce looming” stops reading like sheer fantasy.
The more interesting story here may not be the state of one marriage, but what the palace’s alleged contingency planning betrays about itself: this is still an institution traumatized by the 1990s, instinctively defensive, and quietly convinced that even its most love‑bombed, modern couple might not be built to last.
For all the talk about mental health, modern values, and “service,” Buckingham Palace ultimately behaves like what it has always been—a self‑protective machine. If that means pre‑mapping a hypothetical Meghan Markle and Prince Harry divorce down to the kids’ school runs, it seems fully prepared to do exactly that.
