Damon stood in his living room, silent, his gaze fixed on the polished wooden shelf that stretched across the far wall.
Six championship belts gleamed under the soft lighting, four from the UFA, two from the World MMA Tournament.
Each one marked a war, a climb, a name taken.
He didn't look at them with arrogance. It was reflection. Memory. Each belt represented more than a victory, it was proof of survival in a sport that didn't forgive hesitation.
In his arms, Ava squirmed gently, her tiny hands batting at his face with aimless curiosity.
Damon adjusted her with care, his forearm under her back, supporting her easily.
She babbled nonsense, her voice a soft stream of sounds as she wiggled and kicked lightly against his chest.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear you," he said softly, bouncing her once on his arm.
She kept looking at him, eyes wide with mischief and innocence.
Her fingers gripped at the collar of his shirt, her mouth forming half-words, almost like she was trying to tell him something important, at least in her little world.
She was more active now, growing fast. Almost a year old, and already fearless in how she moved, how she tested everything around her.
Damon couldn't help but smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead.
"You don't even know," he murmured. "But you're the real win here."
She babbled again, louder, as if responding.
He looked back at the shelf, then down at her. Her little fingers curled around the edge of his shirt again.
Honestly, Damon felt bullied.
Ava tugged at his collar again, her tiny fingers surprisingly strong for her size. She latched onto the fabric, yanked it, then giggled when he made a face.
He sighed dramatically, shifting her higher against his chest. "You're lucky I like you," he muttered, tapping the tip of her nose.
She responded with more babble and a grin that exposed her little teeth.
Then came the real assault, her open hand smacked his cheek, not hard, but firm enough to make him blink. She squealed with laughter, clearly thinking it was a game now.
"Alright," he said, rubbing his face, "so we're hitting people now. That's the energy."
He carried her over to the couch and sat down, letting her stand on his legs while holding her upright.
She bounced immediately, grabbing at his chin with one hand trying to pull his beard and reaching toward his eyes with the other.
"No, no eye pokes," Damon said, gently pulling her hand away. "We're not training for the light heavyweight division goat yet."
She laughed again, not understanding, just happy.
Damon leaned his head back against the couch, watching her with a faint smile.
His world used to be full of pressure, titles, headlines, knockouts. Now it was diapers, snacks, and making sure she didn't eat random objects.
She leaned forward again, forehead resting against his. Damon stayed there, her breath warm and shallow, her hand lightly thumping against his chest.
As Damon relaxed, eyes half-shut with Ava perched calmly against his chest, he suddenly felt something wet press against his forehead.
A beat passed—then he felt the pressure again.
He pulled back slightly, squinting at her. "Are you trying to bite me?"
Ava let out a bubbly laugh, mouth still open like she was proud of herself. Damon wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, sighing with a chuckle.
"Okay, little vampire. That's enough of that."
Just then, he heard footsteps from upstairs—light and familiar.
He looked down at Ava. "Come on, Mommy's done."
As if she understood the word, Ava started wiggling excitedly, arms flailing, little feet kicking against his stomach like she wanted down.
He stood up with her in his arms and turned toward the stairs. Svetlana appeared at the top, dressed up for the day.
Her hair was tied back, makeup light but elegant, her blouse tucked neatly into fitted pants.
The moment Ava saw her, she squealed—sharp, loud, happy—and leaned forward hard in Damon's arms, reaching out with both hands.
He let her down gently.
Ava dropped to the floor and immediately began crawling toward Svetlana, hands slapping softly against the floor with urgency, legs kicking behind her in excitement.
Svetlana knelt with a smile. "Come here, baby girl."
Ava reached her fast as her little limbs would carry her, then dropped forward with a dramatic plop onto Svetlana's lap.
She clung tight to her shirt and buried her face in her chest with tiny baby squeals.
Svetlana laughed softly, holding her close and stroking her back.
Ava immediately started babbling as if reporting everything to her, fingers tugging on Svetlana's necklace, then reaching up to tap her nose.
"She's been bullying me," Damon said, walking over with a smirk.
Svetlana raised an eyebrow. "Good. Builds character."
Damon smiled, "You look all dressed up… very beautiful. Are you ready?"
Svetlana nodded, adjusting Ava's position on her hip. "Are you ready?"
Damon glanced down at himself, still in a loose T-shirt and sweats. He shook his head. "I just need five minutes. I'll be back."
Svetlana chuckled and nodded.
Damon leaned in, kissed Ava on the cheek, then brushed a hand over Svetlana's arm as he turned and jogged upstairs to change.
The mother and daughter stayed behind in the warm quiet of their living room, the soft sound of Ava's babbling picking up again as she tugged gently on Svetlana's necklace.
Soon enough, Damon came downstairs, now dressed in casual clothes that matched Svetlana's tone, light, clean, and comfortable.
His hair was brushed back and the car keys swung lazily in his hand.
"Alright, we can go," he said.
They moved together, locking up the house before heading toward the garage.
Damon opened it while Svetlana secured Ava into the back seat. The family slipped into the car, doors shutting with soft clicks.
The garage door lifted. Damon pulled the car out into the calm afternoon.
They had settled into this neighborhood well. Quiet streets, spaced-out homes, a good balance between privacy and community.