The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 6

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

**Chapter 6**

**Gemma**

I keep telling myself that my heart isn’t burdened, that the collapse of my marriage—a mere arrangement—doesn’t sting as much as it does.

But deep down, I know Cassian feels differently.

With a sense of urgency, I slip into my car and drive aimlessly. The familiar roads blur past me, a haze of memories and unfulfilled dreams. My eyes are stinging, yet I refuse to let the tears spill over. In an attempt to drown my thoughts, I crank up the volume of my music, letting the rhythm wash over me like a wave, hoping it will sweep away the sorrow clinging to my heart.

Perhaps that’s why I find myself on these well-trodden paths. It’s almost as if my subconscious is guiding me, leading me to a place I thought I had left behind. Before I can fully comprehend what I’m doing, I’m parked outside a building that holds echoes of my past. The moment I step out of the car, the weight of nostalgia settles heavily on my shoulders.

I knock on the door, and it swings open to reveal a life I had vowed to escape.

“BITCH!” Zina screams with unabashed delight, “IT’S YOU!”

My grip falters, and the boxes I’m carrying nearly slip from my hands as I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of cotton candy pink hair, vibrant clothing, and an energy that’s nothing short of electrifying.

Zina Patel may only reach my shoulder, but she has a way of making me feel as though I’ve been tackled by a freight train. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tightly, and I can hardly breathe.

When she finally pulls back, I gaze down into her large, expressive brown eyes, framed by perfectly arched black brows that only seem to amplify her vibrant personality.

Zina is stunning, and I never know what color her hair will be from one day to the next. Today, it’s a bright, eye-catching pink.

She surveys me with a critical eye, then grips my biceps and shakes me with enthusiasm. “Oh, shit! Boxes! You finally ditched that asshole, didn’t you?! This is incredible! Get inside. You’re mine again at last!”

Without waiting for a response, she ushers me into her apartment and slams the door behind us, sealing off the outside world.

Everything about Zina is larger than life—her voice, her presence, and most importantly, her personality.

I’m thrilled to see her, but after three long years of living with my emotionally distant husband, her exuberance feels almost overwhelming.

She takes my boxes from me and pushes me into the kitchen, where the inviting aroma of delicious food and warm spices envelops me like a comforting blanket.

Despite her overwhelming energy, I let out a sigh of gratitude and sink into a chair, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me.

Zina hands me a steaming cup of chai, and I cradle it in both hands, hoping its warmth can seep into my bones and thaw the chill that has settled in my heart.

“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Shut up,” she replies, flopping down into the chair opposite mine. “Shit, I can’t believe it took you this long to get rid of him. I thought you’d be free two years and eleven months ago, and…”

Her voice trails off as she finally takes a good look at my face, noticing the weariness and sadness etched into my features. Her expression shifts to one of concern. “Damn it. You’re still head over heels for him, aren’t you?”

I clench my jaw, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. As the prickling behind my eyes subsides, I admit, “You were right. You said he’d choose Reyna over me, and he did.”

“Damn!” Zina curses again, her words flowing like a second nature to her. “That slut is back?”

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