The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 139

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 139**

Gemma

As the door creaks open, I catch sight of Cassian entering the room. The moment he steps in, a wave of realization washes over him, and it’s evident he’s regretting his earlier impulsiveness. He inhales deeply, clearly attempting to steady himself before taking another step inside, as if preparing for a confrontation he knows is inevitable.

“When did you get back?” he inquires, his voice a mix of curiosity and underlying tension.

I barely lift my gaze from the screen of my laptop, my fingers still dancing over the keys. “Right after you took Reyna to the hospital. I grabbed a cab and came straight home,” I reply, my tone casual, but my heart races with the weight of unspoken truths.

“You’re lying,” he shoots back, the accusation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

My fingers freeze mid-typing, the words I was crafting evaporating into thin air. Slowly, I turn to meet his gaze, feeling the tension crackle between us.

“I wanted to give you a chance,” he states, his voice firm but edged with vulnerability. “If you had just told me the truth—whatever your reasons—I was prepared to let it go. I would have acted as if none of it ever happened.”

With a swift motion, he retrieves his phone and thrusts it toward me, the screen illuminating a few photos of me and Jace. The angles are misleading, and I can see how they could easily be misconstrued—it appears as though we are sharing a kiss.

“Then tell me this,” he demands, his tone sharp. “Why were you with Jace after lunch?”

If only he had approached me in a calmer manner, perhaps I would have felt inclined to share the reality of the situation. But once again, Cassian jumps to conclusions, already casting judgment in his mind. The thought of explaining myself feels futile, especially with these photos—clearly taken by Angela, and I wouldn’t be shocked if Reyna had orchestrated it all.

“What? You think there’s something between me and him? Reyna gave you those photos, didn’t she?” I challenge, my anger bubbling to the surface.

“You were practically all over him. And you expect me to believe there’s nothing going on?” he retorts, disbelief etched across his features.

His incredulous look sends a sharp pang through my chest.

“That’s just the angle of the camera! Someone wanted to mislead you. Isn’t that obvious?” I fire back, frustration lacing my words.

“If you weren’t so close to him, they wouldn’t have had that angle to begin with,” he snaps, the thoughtless remark striking me like a slap.

I stare at him, stunned. “Seriously? Is this your idea of logic? You’re blaming me for being followed? For being photographed in a way that can be twisted?” My voice turns icy, each word deliberately measured.

“Jace is just a friend. I’ve told you that time and again. If you refuse to believe me, that’s on you.”

The tension in the room feels suffocating, and I can’t bear it any longer. I gather my laptop, rising to my feet, and turn toward the door, intent on escaping to the guest room for some semblance of peace.

However, as I step through the threshold, Cassian’s hand wraps around my arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Don’t walk away. Say what you mean,” he growls, his voice low and intense. “What you’re doing now—how is it any different from how I used to treat you? Didn’t you despise that about me?”

A soft, incredulous laugh escapes my lips despite the situation. He still doesn’t understand.

He can’t handle it when I mirror the treatment he once dished out to me.

“Cassian, let me clarify—there’s nothing left between us. We’re getting divorced when the year is up, and you need to accept that. I’m not here because I want to be.”

With a swift motion, I yank my arm free, striding away without a glance back.

It’s clear that work is out of the question tonight.

I make my way downstairs, craving fresh air, and the thought of a walk through the garden feels inviting.

Donovan has always had a passion for his flowers, but age is catching up with him, and he can no longer tend to the garden alone. Thankfully, the estate’s groundskeeper manages to keep everything flourishing, the flowers and trees vibrant and alive.

We settle onto a nearby bench, the night air wrapping around us like a comforting blanket.

“Do you think the cereus is beautiful?” he asks, his gaze fixed on the flower.

Without hesitation, I respond, “Of course. It’s stunning.”

This is my first time witnessing such a bloom.

Before this moment, I never truly understood why anyone would cultivate something so ephemeral.

“It’s a shame it doesn’t last very long,” I sigh, contemplating its fleeting existence.

Like fireworks—brilliant and blinding for a moment, then gone.

Donovan chuckles softly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“But,” he interjects, “even if it only lasts a moment, that moment is its most perfect, most beautiful self.”

His words linger in the air, and I find myself pondering their meaning.

“Every flower has its season,” he continues, his voice steady. “Some bloom for months, while others only grace the world for a few fleeting moments. But can you truly say that the longer a flower lasts, the more beautiful it is?”

I shake my head, understanding dawning. “No, of course not.”

“People are like flowers too,” he muses. “Everyone has their own time to bloom. Sometimes, you wonder why a flower hasn’t opened yet, but it’s simply waiting for the right moment. Until then, it’s building up strength in silence.”

I press my lips together, beginning to grasp why Donovan chose tonight to share this wisdom with me.