The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 251

**TITLE: Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 251**

**Gemma’s POV**

Charles’s smirk is immediate, a knowing expression that suggests he has been eagerly awaiting a moment of hesitation from me. “If you’re feeling scared, you know you don’t have to push yourself. With the time you just had, you could still join the club. You just can’t—”

I cut him off, my voice firm. “I want to use one hand.”

A wave of curiosity ripples through the crowd, their eyes glued to me, skepticism and intrigue mingling in the air. The girl who had first approached me leans in, her brow furrowed. “One hand? That’s significantly harder. Are you really sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” I affirm, my resolve strengthening with each word.

Charles raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my determination, yet he doesn’t relent. “Alright then. But don’t come crying to me later. I’ll use one hand too.”

The boy with the timer swallows audibly, his voice shaky as he counts down. “On three. One… two… three!”

We both launch into action simultaneously.

The Rubik’s cube feels heavier in my grasp, and my wrist protests slightly, but muscle memory kicks in. My fingers flick and twist, the movements smooth and practiced. The cube seems to surrender to my will.

Around us, the chatter quiets down. No one anticipated that I would actually take on this challenge.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Charles working swiftly beside me. There’s no denying his skill; his fingers dance over the cube with remarkable speed, his expression intense and focused. Yet, every few seconds, he sneaks a glance in my direction, as if he can’t help himself.

I keep my focus locked on my cube, my breaths measured and steady. After what feels like an eternity, I begin to feel that familiar spark—the thrill I used to experience when I played just for fun, before I had tucked that passion away as if it were something to be ashamed of.

Click!

With a final twist, the cube snaps into place, a satisfying sound that reverberates in my ears. I place it down firmly on the table, a sense of triumph washing over me.

The boy with the timer quickly presses the stop button. Almost simultaneously, Charles slams his cube down as well, but his timer clicks just a fraction of a second after mine.

The crowd holds its breath, eyes glued to the numbers. My time reads forty-five point seven seconds. Charles’s shows forty-five point seventy-three.

Only 0.03 seconds apart.

The crowd erupts into whispers, a mix of disbelief and awe hanging thick in the air.

“But Charles is the best in the whole club!” someone exclaims.

I barely register their words, my gaze fixed on the timer. Forty-five seconds feels disappointingly slow compared to my previous records. A soft sigh escapes my lips, disappointment tugging at my heart. I’ve definitely lost my edge.

Suddenly, a small, round badge comes into my line of sight. I look up to see Charles holding it out, his jaw set tight. “This is the president’s badge. I promised I’d surrender it if you beat me.”

He inhales sharply, the weight of his words palpable. “The position is yours.”

I stare at the badge, my mind racing. Being the president of a club isn’t just about skill; it involves managing people, organizing events, handling responsibilities. It requires a whole set of talents that I’m not sure I possess.

And I—well, I only came here seeking a bit of fun, a fleeting moment of nostalgia.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, pushing the badge back toward him. “I only joined on a whim. I don’t want to be president.”

His expression darkens immediately, a flash of disappointment crossing his features. “Why? Do you look down on our club?”

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