MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat - Chapter 564

Chapter 564: Chapter 564: A mother and a father I
Time dragged in the maternity wing.

Damon sat with his elbows on his knees, hands together, looking straight ahead at the double doors.

His face was calm, but the tension in his shoulders hadn’t left since they arrived. He had paced earlier, now he was still. His knee bounced slightly.

Joey leaned on the wall to Damon’s right, arms crossed. He kept glancing between his phone and the hallway.

Ashley sat next to Macey, legs tucked under her, phone in hand but not really using it. Victor stood near the corner, back straight, watching everything quietly.

Aoife was beside Macey, her legs crossed, one hand on her chin. No one spoke much.

A nurse passed once, then again, but neither stopped or said anything. The muted TV in the waiting room played something no one cared about. The screen showed a forest scene, but no one was watching.

Damon stood and walked to the water dispenser. He poured a small cup, took a sip, then tossed the rest. He didn’t really want it. He rubbed his eyes and sat back down.

The clock above the hallway door ticked in slow rhythm. It wasn’t late, but it felt like hours had passed.

Joey spoke first.

“You good?”

Damon nodded once. “Yeah. Just waiting.”

Ashley looked over. “It’s always like this. The slow part before the real part.”

Aoife nodded. “They’ll let us know. These things take time.”

Damon leaned back into the chair and rested his head against the wall. He took a slow breath. The kind you don’t notice until it’s the only thing happening. The room was warm. His hands were on his lap, but his mind was in the delivery room, behind those closed doors.

He thought about her, Svetlana.

He hoped she was okay. He didn’t like not knowing. He didn’t like not being next to her.

He glanced at the doors again.

Still closed.

Another ten minutes passed. The waiting room stayed quiet, everyone just listening for movement.

Damon kept shifting in his seat, glancing at the hallway every few seconds. He had barely finished his second bottle of water when a nurse stepped in, different from the one before. She was younger, focused.

“Mr. Cross?” she asked.

Damon stood up immediately.

“She’s getting close,” the nurse said. “We’ll be moving her soon. She asked for you to be there.”

Damon nodded, but before he could step forward, Aoife raised a hand from her seat.

“Just him,” she said, firm but calm. “It’s better that way.”

Macey agreed. “You’ll be all she needs in there. Trust me. Let us handle everything else.”

Ashley was holding Theo and gave a quiet smile. “Go. You don’t want to miss anything.”

Damon looked at each of them and gave a short nod. “Alright.”

Victor walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Steady breaths, champ. This part’s tougher than any fight you’ve had.”

Joey let out a small laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

Damon managed a half-smile, but his heart was pounding. He followed the nurse, heading down the corridor. It smelled clean, sharp—like every hospital did. They passed a few rooms, turned a corner, and stopped at a pair of double doors.

“She’s prepped,” the nurse said, pushing them open.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. It was bright, cold, and clinical, but not chaotic. Nurses moved with calm speed. Machines beeped rhythmically.

Svetlana was lying on the hospital bed, slightly propped up. Her hair was tied back loosely, and her face looked tense, eyes slightly closed.

She opened them when she heard him.

“There you are,” she said, her voice low and slightly hoarse. “Took your sweet time.”

Damon walked straight to her, taking her hand. “Blame the water cooler.”

She let out a small breath, which was as close to a laugh as she could manage.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she muttered. “But it’s happening. And you’re not leaving.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

The doctor stood near the foot of the bed, reviewing something on a monitor. A nurse handed Damon a clean gown and gloves. “Put these on. We’ll be ready soon.”

As he changed, he glanced at Svetlana’s stomach, the rise and fall quick and shallow. Her breathing was sharp, controlled, but strained.

He returned to her side, fully suited, and grabbed her hand again. She held onto it tight.

One of the nurses adjusted the monitor, and the doctor stepped closer. “She’s almost fully dilated. When I tell you to push, you push. But we’re not there yet. For now, breathe. Conserve your strength.”

Damon leaned in. “We’re doing this.”

She gave him a quick look, a mix of pain, fear, and love. “You better name them if I pass out.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The doctor nodded to the nurse. The countdown had begun.

Svetlana gritted her teeth, her grip on Damon’s hand tightening until her knuckles turned white. The doctor glanced at the monitor again and gave a small nod.

“Alright. Contractions are peaking. We’re going to start. Svetlana, when I tell you to push, you push as hard as you can. Damon, stay with her.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quickly.

The nurse to the side counted down. “Next contraction… here it comes. Ready? Push!”

Svetlana inhaled sharply, then bared down with everything she had. Her face scrunched up from the pain. Damon held her hand tighter, his other hand brushing her damp forehead.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, steady but focused. “Just breathe with me.”

The nurse counted. “And… stop.”

Svetlana let out a breath, her body sagging back against the bed. Her face was red, breathing rapid. Her legs shook slightly under the sheets.

“Again soon,” the doctor warned. “You’re moving fast.”

Damon leaned closer, speaking just low enough for her to hear. “You’re tougher than anyone I’ve fought. You got this.”

Svetlana managed a quick, half-tired smirk before her face tensed again.

The nurse nodded once more. “And push!”

Svetlana cried out, a sharp sound, more from frustration than pain. Her muscles tensed, her eyes clenched shut. Damon didn’t speak this time, he just stayed with her, holding steady.

The room wasn’t loud, but it felt heavy. Focused. Every second mattered. Monitors beeped steadily. The doctor gave clear instructions while the nurses worked efficiently.

Another round of pushes. Then another.

Svetlana was sweating now, her body drained but refusing to quit. Damon was right there, shoulder to shoulder with her, hand in hand, breathing with her, never flinching.

Then the doctor suddenly said, “Okay. I see the head. One more, Svetlana. One good push.”

Svetlana shook her head, barely breathing. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Damon said, firm now. “One more. Let’s go.”

The nurse steadied her. “Last one. Let’s finish this.”

She gathered whatever strength she had left, pulled Damon’s hand toward her chest, and pushed with everything she had. A scream tore from her throat, not fear, not panic, just effort.

Then—

A cry.