The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 522

Chapter 522

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Gemma’s POV

Inside my bedroom, Zina immediately makes herself at home, which means attacking my closet. She flings the doors open, her eyes scanning the rows of clothes with the strategic intensity of a general surveying a battlefield. She’s contemplating our fishing trip tomorrow, already plotting our outfits.

I watch her from the bathroom doorway, drying my hair with a towel. I can practically see the thought bubble over her head: Gemma and I are as different as night and day, but our body types are strikingly similar. The only thing that set us apart… Her gaze flicks to me, taking in my towel–clad form. A slow, knowing grin spreads across her face. Yep, the boobs. That’s the big difference right there.

“Gemma, what are you planning to wear for fishing tomorrow?” she asks, pulling out a sensible pair of linen trousers and

wrinkling her nose.

Slightly puzzled, I shrug. “I guess just some workout gear? Isn’t that practical?” It’s comfortable, it moves, it’s designed for activity. It makes perfect sense.

Workout gear?” Zina groans, as if I’ve suggested wearmg’a 10:45

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want to look a little cute?“chte?” Her

force in the room.room.

one hand automationtically resting on elly. “I’m a mom num now. What’s the he statement feelst feels true. My focus has

e growing and glansh the survival of us both. oth

cern from anothanother lifetime.

means you sawu can’t look fabulous?” Zinazina ips. “Tomorromorrow, I’ll style you up. Impl se guys specs speechless!” Her eyes sparklekle

dila different, more practical worry orry push aside the fashion debate bate

ng out two extra blankets. Iets. I nton neon sheets, the crisp cotton a small,mall,

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bthis blanket!” I say, handing her one of thef the

les.

her eyes. She wants to tell me it’se it’s

ildn’t be so uptight. But she’s smartnart. She

my jaw, knows that if she arguesgües, I’ll

night. She swallows her reasseassurance

anding nod.nod.

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and miles wide.

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and Jeremy

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10 10:45

long. The fe

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< Chapter 522

and miles wide. Zina is fidgety, wide awake.

“So, Gemma,” her voice cuts through the quiet, ripe with gossip. “Between Mikhail and Cassian, who do you feel more drawn to these days?” I can hear the unspoken thought in her tone: How many people get to live with two handsome guys? Gemma should totally explore this!

I haven’t given it any thought. Not with the specter of a blood test hanging over every minute. “What are you talking about? Don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious!” she insists, rolling onto her side to face me, a dark silhouette. “Do you really want to be a single mom forever? Sure, we don’t need a man to survive, but it’s not like we’re completely against having one around.”

I raise an eyebrow in the darkness. “What’s the difference?”

She gives a light, playful cough. “Think of this pillow as a man,” she says, patting her own. “It’s nice to lean on something, right?”

The analogy is so perfectly, ridiculously Zina. I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. “Right now, I just want to lean on my pillow, not on men.” I turn the tables, curious. “What about you and Jeremy? Are things heating up?”

The energy shifts. I’ve never seen her stick with someone this long. The feelings are real. Marriage is the logical, looping nex45

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< Chapter 522

hundredth–day celebration, there might be an extra gift to collect from a new uncle.

But as soon as the spotlight swings to her, her brightness dims. She flops onto her back, staring at the shadowed ceiling. “Marriage? That’s way too soon.” Her voice is smaller. I can hear her internal monologue: I’m not even thirty yet! If I get married now, I’ll spend half my life doing laundry, cooking, and raising kids! I don’t want to become a tired old woman just yet.

“Jeremy is doing well for himself. Doesn’t he have staff at home? You won’t be stuck doing everything yourself,” I point out, trying to soothe the sudden fear.

“I… I don’t know. We haven’t even talked about it yet.” She flips over, burying her head under the covers, a clear signal that the conversation is over. “I guess I’ll just let things unfold naturally.”

The next morning, my internal clock–now impeccably tuned by pregnancy–wakes me at dawn. By the time I’m washed and dressed in simple clothes, Zina is already awake and has resumed her mission. Two outfits are laid out triumphantly on the bed.

I look at them, then at her, my eyebrow arching. “You’re planning to wear this to go fishing?”

She beams, gesturing like a game show hostess. “Aren hese0:45

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