The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 431

Chapter 431
Zina's POV

The grass is cool under my legs, the sky is screaming with light, but I’m not looking up. I’m looking at Jace. The flash of a peony firework illuminates his profile, and it breaks my heart.

It’s a mask of pure dejection. I know that look. I’ve seen it for years. He’d been gathering his courage all week, I could tell. Tonight, under this romantic, fake-festival sky, was supposed to be his moment. A final, desperate confession before Gemma slips away.

Then Cassian Blackwell materialized from the shadows like the damn billionaire ghost he is, and Jace’s chance evaporated. Just… poof. Gone. I see the exact second his hope dies, crushed under the weight of that man’s mere presence. He sighs, a deep, heavy sound that gets lost in the boom-crack of the next explosion.

Jessica, sitting on his other side, leans in. Her voice is almost a whisper, meant only for him. “Jace, don’t lose hope. There will be a chance. You’ll get your moment with Gemma.”

But her words are swallowed by the roaring spectacle. He doesn’t even seem to hear her. He just stares at the two figures silhouetted against the relentless light—Gemma, mesmerized by the sky, and the man who only ever has to exist to eclipse everyone else. I want to shake him. I want to yell that some moments you just have to take. But I don’t. I just sit here in the roaring dark, watching my friend’s heart quietly shatter.

Gemma's POV 

The sky is like a canvas of gold and indigo, the fireworks painting it with fleeting, violent beauty. 

My neck is starting to ache from looking up, but I’m determined to drink it all in. Just then, a softer, more intimate glow catches my eye. 

A vendor, set up at the edge of the plaza, is selling sparklers. A dozen small, hopeful suns are being lit and extinguished, clutched in the hands of laughing children who trace frantic, luminous circles in the damp air.

The colored lights from the main stage wash over the cobblestones, turning the scene dreamlike.

“Zina!” I say, tugging on her sleeve, my voice bright. “Let’s go get some sparklers!”

Her eyes light up, mirroring the ones in the children’s hands. 

 “Absolutely!”

In a flurry of giggles, our group of girls peels away from our grassy spot, heading toward the vendor’s cart, leaving Cassian and Jace standing abruptly alone.

We reach the cart, the smell of gunpowder and Zina apples thick in the air. “I’d like some sparklers,” I say, reaching for my wallet.

Another voice speaks at the same instant. “One bunch of sparklers!”

I look up, surprised. It’s Mikhail.

He’s here, in the middle of this odd, private-public spectacle. “You’re… also into this?” 

I ask, genuinely surprised. 

He doesn’t answer me directly. He pays the vendor, takes the bundle of sparklers, and without a word, offers it to a little boy sniffling nearby, his face streaked with angry tears. 

The boy’s cries cut off mid-sob. He stares at the offered treasure, then snatches it, his misery instantly forgotten as he runs off to join his friends.

I watch, utterly perplexed. It was a strangely kind gesture from a man not known for them.

Mikhail finally turns back, catching my bewildered look. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says, his tone dry. “I made him cry. Bought the sparklers to get him to shut up.”

Zina, never one to let a mystery lie, pounces. “And how exactly did you make him cry?”

“He stepped on my shoe.”

A beat of stunned silence hangs between us all. We hadn’t pegged Mikhail for a clean freak. 

A laugh bubbles up in my chest. I take half of my own purchased sparklers and extend them toward him. “Here. Have some.”

He looks at my offering, then at my face, half-lit by a starburst firework overhead. He hesitates, a rare moment of uncertainty crossing his features, before finally accepting them. Our fingers brush briefly.

I feel, more than see, the shift in the air behind me. Cassian is suddenly there at my shoulder. Jace, not wanting to be left out, has followed. We are now a strange, tense constellation around the sparkler cart.

And we are no longer alone on the field. More people are trickling in, small groups and couples, drawn by the relentless, expensive spectacle in the sky. Cassian’s gaze sweeps over the growing crowd, and I see a flicker of intense irritation cross his face. 

I also wonder, how are there suddenly so many people here?

The answer comes in a shriek from Zina. “Oh no!” 

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