MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat-Chapter 541: The Final Stretch

Four months.

Four months passed.

For most people, it flew by.

For Damon and Svetlana, it moved with weight, every week marked by change, discomfort, and subtle emotional pressure that built and built.

This wasn't fight camp pressure. This was different. Real life pressure. The kind that followed you home, lay beside you at night, and whispered in your ear even when everything looked fine.

Svetlana was seven months pregnant now. And while she was healthy and strong, it didn't mean things were easy.

Damon had never loved her more, and he told her often, even when he felt like a broken record repeating the same three words.

But no amount of love stopped the worries from creeping in. Not when he saw her wince just trying to roll out of bed. Not when he noticed how swollen her ankles were, or how she tried to act like she wasn't in pain when she stood too long.

He tried his best to help. To be there.

But that didn't erase his doubts.

There were nights when he'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was doing enough. If he was saying the right things. If rubbing her back the way she asked once still worked, or if it was just annoying now.

He worried about saying something stupid, asking if she was okay too often, or not asking when he should've.

He worried about training too much, or too little.

He worried about the future.

And it wasn't just emotional stress either. There were real, physical adjustments. Sleeping had become unpredictable.

If Svetlana wasn't tossing and turning, then Damon was lying awake listening to her breathe heavy, or shift, or sigh. He started sleeping lighter. Always alert, ready in case she needed anything.

Their grocery runs changed. Their routines changed. Her cravings made no damn sense sometimes, and Damon found himself driving out at 11pm to get some very specific brand of pickles that didn't even taste different to him.

He didn't complain, though.

That was part of it.

Part of being the man.

He wasn't scared anymore, but he was learning.

Learning how to be present in ways that weren't just about providing or fighting.

It was a different kind of endurance.

And in its own way, it was harder than anything he'd faced in a cage.

But even in the middle of his stress, Damon reminded himself, what he was carrying was nothing compared to what Svetlana was going through.

She was the one with a life growing inside her.

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Her body ached in places she didn't even realize could ache. Her hormones ran wild some days. She'd get irritated by the smallest things, a commercial, a blanket being folded wrong, Damon leaving the fridge open too long, and he understood.

Truly. If he were carrying a child and waking up every day more exhausted than the last, he'd be pissy too.

But despite all of that, she held herself with grace. She didn't whine. She didn't complain too often. She smiled more than he expected.

And sometimes, in those quiet moments where she'd place his hand on her belly to feel a kick, Damon felt a kind of awe that was hard to put into words.

Thankfully, they weren't alone.

His mother, Aoife, had been visiting regularly. She was calm, steady, and knew exactly what Svetlana needed before anyone had to ask. Damon was grateful for that.

He didn't need to ask questions or search the internet in a panic, his mom had been through it. She knew the signs, the moods, the quiet things that weren't said out loud.

Macey had been around often too. Between her and Aoife, Svetlana was surrounded by the kind of energy she needed, supportive, nurturing, experienced.

And it made a difference.

Damon could train. He could focus. Because even if he felt stretched thin some days, he knew Svetlana was being looked after by people who truly loved her.

Still, it didn't stop him from trying to do more.

He was a fighter. But right now, he wasn't fighting opponents.

He was just trying to be a good man.

And every day he tried, a little more of the fear faded, and a little more of the pride grew.

But the fight… it was right around the corner.

Two weeks.

That was it.

After months of buildup, after the tapes, the simulations, the press, the waiting, it was almost here.

Luckily for Damon, the event wasn't overseas or across the country. It was happening right in California. Close to home. Close enough that he didn't have to deal with long travel, jet lag, or adjusting to a new time zone. He could sleep in his bed. Eat food he trusted. Keep his routine untouched.

But Svetlana wouldn't be attending.

At seven months pregnant, it just wasn't an option. Not for something this intense. Damon understood, even though it tugged at him. He'd wanted her there. He always felt calm when she was close, and a part of him imagined raising that belt in front of her, hearing the roar while she smiled from the front row.

But that wasn't happening.

And that was okay.

Because he also knew, if he did what he came to do, if he became the champion, there would be more.

She could be there when he defended it.

And maybe one day, when their kid was older, they'd sit front row too, watching him walk to the cage like a storm, watching him defend his throne or even chase a second title.

Middleweight was home. But if Damon ever decided to jump to light heavyweight?

He'd win there too.

Because that's who he was now.

So while his mother wouldn't be there… and Svetlana wouldn't be there…

They'd still be watching.

That was all he needed.

His body felt right. His mind was sharp. His team was tight. The strategy was solid. All the drills, the tape.

He felt more ready than ever.