Prenups go mainstream as younger couples embrace financial clarity before marriage

Discuss it when you still love each other, not when you want revenge.
Celine Tsoi explains why she and her fiancé chose to sign a prenup before marriage.
Mark

Why do you think prenups stopped being shameful?

Mimi

Because people started asking themselves whether love and legal protection are actually in conflict. They're not. A prenup is just a conversation you're choosing to have while you still like each other.

Mark

But doesn't it suggest you're planning for failure?

Mimi

Only if you think about it that way. Becca Gibson sees it differently—she's planning for clarity. She knows what she's bringing in, what she wants to protect, what's fair. That's not pessimism. That's respect.

Mark

The cost used to be prohibitive. What changed?

Mimi

Online platforms. Dave was quoted £5,000 by a law firm. Wenup charged him £1,600. When something becomes affordable, it stops being a luxury good. It becomes normal.

Mark

Is this really about money, or is it about something else?

Mimi

It's about control. Celine's parents went through a messy divorce. Dave built his life alone. They both want to know that if things fall apart, they understand the terms. That's not unromantic—it's honest.

Mark

Do you think this changes what marriage means?

Mimi

It might. It forces you to ask: what are we actually building together? What are we each protecting? Those conversations used to happen in lawyers' offices after things fell apart. Now they happen at the kitchen table, when you still love each other.

  • What was once a tool of the ultra-wealthy is now being adopted by PhD students, eyelash technicians, and nurses — reshaping who prenups are even for.
  • The surge is being driven not by cynicism but by lived trauma: couples who watched their parents' marriages collapse in financial warfare want a different story for themselves.
  • Online platforms like Wenup and HelloPrenup have slashed costs from thousands to hundreds, demolishing the financial barrier that once kept ordinary couples out.
  • The looming Great Wealth Transfer — parents passing down property and savings to adult children — is pushing families to demand prenups as a condition of inheritance, not just a personal choice.
  • Lawyers and advocates argue the prenup has been quietly reborn as a feminist instrument, forcing transparent conversations about money, roles, and power before vows are exchanged rather than after they collapse.

A generation shaped by witnessed divorces, inherited wealth, and the democratizing force of technology is quietly rewriting the terms of matrimony. Across the UK and United States, young couples under thirty-five are signing prenuptial agreements at rates that would have seemed remarkable a decade ago — not as a hedge against love, but as an expression of it. Where the prenup once signaled distrust or privilege, it now increasingly signals something more hopeful: a willingness to have the hard conversations while tenderness still governs the room.

Celine Tsoi was twenty-three when she got engaged to Charles Mock eight months after they met in California. When friends asked about a prenup, neither of them flinched. For Celine, the logic was simple: better to settle the hard questions while you still love each other than to negotiate them in the ruins of a marriage.

That instinct is now shared by a striking proportion of their generation. Around one in three young couples in the UK under thirty-five are signing prenuptial agreements — triple the national average. In the United States, nearly half of married millennials report having one. What was once the preserve of billionaires and celebrities has become, quietly, a middle-class norm.

Charles earns more than Celine; Celine had saved more than Charles. The financial asymmetries were modest, but they wanted them addressed early. What struck Celine most was that Charles insisted the prenup protect her claim to their home if they ever separated. The document became, for her, a character reference. The conversation itself told her who she was marrying.

In London, solicitor Mark Gilmartin has watched demand surge over the past eighteen months. His clients now include start-up founders, influencers, and couples he describes as entirely ordinary — many of them seeking to protect inheritances they expect to receive as part of the generational wealth transfer currently reshaping family finances across the Western world.

In West Sussex, Becca Gibson is days away from marrying Dave Howells. Dave earns more than three times her income; she has three children from a previous marriage that ended badly. She expects to inherit property from her parents and wants to ensure that, if this marriage fails, each of them leaves with what they arrived with. Dave, who built his home and pension independently, frames it plainly: a divorce court might redistribute what he secured before they ever met. The prenup, for him, is a record of who he already was.

Technology has made all of this possible at scale. Dave initially faced a £5,000 quote from a traditional firm before switching to the online platform Wenup and paying £1,600. In the United States, HelloPrenup cofounder Julia Rodgers notes that couples are marrying later, arriving at the altar with student debt, businesses, and property — far more at stake than previous generations carried into marriage.

Rodgers argues the prenup has also evolved into something advocates once would not have predicted: a tool that empowers women by demanding financial transparency before the wedding rather than extracting it through litigation afterward. Celine, who spent only a few hundred dollars on hers, sees it as the most important investment she made in her marriage — more meaningful, perhaps, than the wedding itself. She and Charles have not had a single argument about money.

Celine Tsoi was twenty-three when she met Charles Mock in Goleta, California. Eight months into their relationship, they were engaged. When friends asked if they were getting a prenup, the question didn't feel like an insult—it felt practical. "A lot of things could happen in a marriage and you want to discuss them when you still love each other rather than when things go bad and you want to take revenge," Celine says now.

What was once the domain of the wealthy and famous has become ordinary. Around one in three young couples in the UK are now signing prenuptial agreements, a shift that reflects something deeper than financial caution: a generation rethinking how to build a marriage on a foundation of clarity rather than assumption. In the United States, the numbers are even starker. Nearly half of married millennials and more than one in three Gen Z adults report having a prenup. Overall, one in five American married couples has one. In Britain, where courts have only recently begun to recognize prenups with greater consistency, the figure sits at one in ten across all ages—but among couples under thirty-five, it jumps to one in three.

Charles, a nurse, earns more than Celine, who is pursuing her PhD. She had saved more money than he had. The disparities were modest. Yet they wanted to address the hard questions early, when affection still governed the conversation. What moved Celine most was that Charles insisted the prenup protect her claim to the house if they ever separated. For her, the document became something else entirely: a window into his character. "Just having the conversation can show you what the person you're going to marry is like," she says.

Mark Gilmartin, a lawyer at JMW Solicitors in London, has watched demand for prenups surge in the past eighteen months. The old stereotype—billionaire marrying bartender—has given way to something far more democratic. Start-up founders, entrepreneurs, influencers, and what he calls "every-day you and I" couples are now seeking his counsel. Many are protecting inherited wealth, assets they expect to receive from parents as part of what financial planners call the Great Wealth Transfer. "It's the attempts to protect the fruits of what's going to be, rather than what is," Gilmartin says.

Becca Gibson from West Sussex is marrying Dave Howells in days. Dave earns £130,000 annually in finance—more than three times what Becca makes from her eyelash extension business. She has three children from a previous marriage; he has one. A court might award her a better settlement given the income gap and her dependent children, but Becca was drawn to the prenup for a different reason. Her first marriage "didn't end very well." She expects to inherit significant property from her parents and wants to ensure that if the marriage fails, each of them walks away with what they brought into it. "It's not an advantage for me," she says, "but it's a fair situation." Dave, forty-five, frames it more bluntly. He built his home, his pension, his future. He was independent when they met. Why should a divorce court redistribute what he had already secured? "A court of law could potentially say, hang on, this guy's earning a lot more than her, he needs to pay her," he says. "I'm no different now to when I met her, and yet she was independent."

What has made prenups accessible to ordinary couples is technology. Dave initially consulted a traditional law firm and expected to pay around £5,000. He switched instead to Wenup, a semi-automated online platform, and paid £1,600. The cost barrier that once confined prenups to the wealthy has crumbled. Julia Rodgers, cofounder of the US platform HelloPrenup, notes that couples are marrying later in life—by their mid-thirties, many have accumulated university debt, started businesses, or bought homes. They have far more to lose. Parents, watching their own children navigate these complexities, often push for prenups themselves, wanting to protect the inheritances they plan to pass down.

Lawyers point to another driver: the pain of previous divorces. Many couples have witnessed their parents' separations or endured their own. They want to avoid that wreckage. Prenups, once criticized for limiting women's rights, have evolved. Rodgers argues they now empower women by forcing transparent conversations about finances, roles, and life goals before marriage rather than in the wreckage of divorce. "We want to make sure we have the honest, open, transparent conversations about life goals, about finances, about roles and responsibilities in the home, so that we can have a long, happy marriage and not end up in that position that we saw our parents in," she says.

Celine spent only a few hundred dollars on her prenup through an online service. She considers it an investment in her marriage—more important, perhaps, than the wedding itself. Most of her friends think prenups are sensible. Best of all, she and Charles have already had the conversations that derail so many marriages. "We haven't had a single argument about finances," she says.

A lot of things could happen in a marriage and you want to discuss them when you still love each other rather than when things go bad and you want to take revenge.
— Celine Tsoi
We want to make sure we have the honest, open, transparent conversations about life goals, about finances, about roles and responsibilities in the home, so that we can have a long, happy marriage.
— Julia Rodgers, cofounder of HelloPrenup
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