MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The visit became more fun than planned. Damon couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun laughing with his mom, and having Svetlana there made it even better. It felt like the past, or at least how the past should have felt.

But the heavy feeling on Damon's chest wouldn't go away. Even though he smiled and joined in the talk, he felt worried about having to share some bad news.

He kept overthinking, rehearsing words in his head that didn't feel right. Every time he tried to start, the timing seemed off. Maybe later, he kept telling himself. Maybe when there's a better moment.

But Svetlana, ever the one to sense Damon's hesitations, decided there was no better moment than now.

She set down her cup of tea, looked straight at Aoife, and said with a small, knowing smile, "Aoife, Damon has something important to tell you."

Damon froze mid-sip, nearly choking on his coffee. His head snapped toward Svetlana, his eyes wide with betrayal. "Seriously?" he muttered under his breath.

Aoife looked between the two of them, her brows furrowing. "What is it, Damon? What's going on?"

Damon exhaled sharply, setting his mug down as he leaned back in his chair.

He rubbed the back of his neck, shooting a brief glare at Svetlana, who simply raised her eyebrows at him as if daring him to stall any longer.

Aoife watched Damon fumbling with his words, her expression shifting from concern to a teasing smirk.

She folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Oh, I see what this is," she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Damon frowned, momentarily distracted. "What are you talking about?"

Aoife leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. "You're taking all this time to tell me you've proposed to Svetlana, aren't you? And here I was, thinking my son might finally grow up and have the decency to tell me first."

Damon blinked in surprise, his jaw hanging slightly. "Wait, what? No, that's not—"

Svetlana, seated beside him, immediately burst into laughter, choking on the tea she'd been sipping. She coughed, waving a hand apologetically before managing to speak through the giggles. "No, no, no, Aoife, it's nothing like that."

Aoife raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she looked at Damon. "Really? Because he's acting like someone with a big secret. I thought this was the big moment!"

Svetlana shook her head, her cheeks still flushed from laughter. "I promise you, it's not a proposal. Not yet, anyway."

Damon groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can we not do this right now? You're making this so much harder than it needs to be."

Aoife leaned forward, a sly smile still playing on her lips. "Alright then, out with it. If it's not a proposal, what is it?"

Damon shot Svetlana a look, silently blaming her for the situation, before taking a deep breath and trying again.

Damon took a big breath and looked away from Aoife. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

His hands moved restlessly, brushing through his hair as he tried to come up with the right words. The fun mood was gone, and an awkward silence took its place.

Even Svetlana, who had been smiling just moments before, now sat quietly, watching him with kind support.

"Ma..." Damon started, his voice low, unsteady. He paused, inhaling sharply before continuing. "It's about... my father."

Aoife tilted her head slightly, her expression softening but also growing wary. "What do you mean? About him?"

Damon's jaw tightened. He couldn't bring himself to say the word outright just yet, but he refused to skirt around it any longer. He stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I found out… a while ago," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's… gone."

Aoife blinked, her expression unreadable. She sat back slightly, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. "Gone?" she repeated softly, almost as if she didn't understand, or didn't want to.

Damon nodded, still not meeting her gaze. "Yeah. He's dead. I don't know the details, and honestly, I didn't ask. But... it happened."

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

Aoife's grip on the armrests tightened, her knuckles turning white.

Her face remained neutral, but Damon could see the subtle tremor in her lips, the way her eyes darted to the side as if she were trying to process the information.

Svetlana glanced between them, her usual confidence replaced by quiet concern.

She reached out, gently resting a hand on Aoife's shoulder, but Aoife didn't react.

Damon finally forced himself to look up, his chest tightening at the sight of his mother's face. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "I didn't even know if I should. I just... I thought you had a right to know."

Aoife inhaled sharply through her nose, closing her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, they glistened with unshed tears, but her expression remained steady. "Well," she said quietly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her emotions. "I suppose it was bound to happen."

Damon frowned slightly, unsure of what to say. "Ma…"

Aoife shook her head, cutting him off gently. "Don't. I don't want pity, Damon. Not for him. Not for me." Her voice grew firmer, though there was still a trace of sadness in it. "You did the right thing by telling me. Thank you." Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire

Damon nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He had expected anger, tears, maybe even denial, but this... this quiet acceptance was almost harder to handle.

Aoife glanced toward the window, her gaze distant. "He wasn't always… the way he was. I want you to know that, Damon. Before everything went wrong, there was a time when he was…" She trailed off, her words catching in her throat. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Damon swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to tell her she didn't need to justify anything, but the words wouldn't come.

Instead, Svetlana, ever the anchor in moments like this, spoke up softly. "It's okay to feel conflicted, Aoife. It's okay to feel whatever you feel."

Aoife's lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. "Thank you, Svetlana. I appreciate that." She turned her gaze back to Damon, her eyes softer now. "And thank you, Damon. I know this wasn't easy for you."

Damon nodded, the tension in his chest easing slightly. "You're my mom," he said simply. "You deserved to know."