MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Svetlana sat near the edge of her bed with her hands resting on her lap.

She'd been awake for over an hour, but she hadn't moved much.

Her hair was still tied up in a bun from the night before, and her robe was loosely wrapped around her waist.

Her dress hung nearby on a tall rack, zipped up in a garment bag, and the veil was folded over the chair beside it.

Macey stood behind her, brushing her daughter's hair gently. The room was quiet aside from the soft strokes of the brush and the faint sound of voices downstairs.

"You doing okay?" Macey asked, watching her through the mirror.

Svetlana nodded once. "I think so."

Macey kept brushing. "You don't have to be calm. Just be honest."

"I'm not scared," Svetlana said. "I just feel like… if I take a deep breath, I might cry. Not the bad kind. Just the kind you get when something big is about to happen."

Macey smiled, resting a hand on her shoulder. "That's normal."

A knock came from the door before it creaked open. Ashley stepped in, holding two mugs.

"I made tea," she said. "Because coffee will make your hands shake and ruin everything. Also, I can't be the only one losing it in here."

Svetlana stood to take a mug from her. Ashley looked her up and down.

"You look like you're about to argue with the priest," Ashley said. "Not marry someone."

Svetlana exhaled through her nose and gave a tired smile. "I feel like I'm holding a hundred thoughts at once."

Ashley sat on the edge of the bed and nodded. "Good. Means you care. If you were sitting here acting perfect, I'd be worried."

Another knock came a few minutes later. This time it was Aoife, Damon's mother, who stepped in with a garment bag over her arm and a calm look on her face.

"Morning, love," Aoife said softly. "I come bearing jewelry. Also, Damon says he's fine. Well, technically Joey texted that he's fine, but close enough."

Svetlana gave a small laugh and hugged her. "Thanks for coming early."

Aoife smiled. "Couldn't stay away. You're part of the family now."

Svetlana stepped back, brushing a hand under her eye. "Stop, you're gonna start me."

"No crying till the makeup's on," Macey warned.

The room started to fill after that. The stylist arrived. The makeup artist followed. Chairs were moved around. Lights were shifted. Her dress was unzipped and laid out. The air got warmer, and everyone started moving with more purpose.

As Svetlana sat in front of the mirror, the stylist clipped her hair section by section and the makeup artist prepared the brushes, Macey leaned in again with a quiet tone.

"I know you're not worried about him, but I'll say this anyway," Macey said. "Damon's not just a good man, he's steady. Whatever happens in your life, he won't leave."

Svetlana nodded. "I know. That's why I'm marrying him."

Ashley added, "Still can't believe you used to get nervous just texting him back in the day."

They all laughed quietly, and the tension in her shoulders eased a little.

The rest of the morning was filled with small tasks and half conversations.

Svetlana checked on Ava once through the baby monitor.

She was still asleep, thank God. The last thing she needed was a toddler climbing around during hair prep.

At one point, Ashley leaned in and asked, "Still no messages?"

Svetlana shook her head. "Nope. We agreed, no calls, no texts. First time we see each other will be at the altar."

Ashley looked impressed. "Strong willpower."

Svetlana smiled slightly. "It makes it feel real."

The makeup artist finished her last stroke and stepped back. "You're ready."

Svetlana looked at herself in the mirror. She didn't feel like a different person, just a more polished version of the one who had spent years growing up, healing, and choosing this life. She stood and walked over to the dress.

Ashley moved to help unzip the bag while Aoife held the veil. Macey was already setting the shoes in place.

"Alright," Svetlana said. "Let's do this properly."

They helped her into the dress slowly, carefully, button by button. When it was done, she turned toward the mirror again. The room went quiet for a moment.

Ashley broke it. "Yeah... he's gonna cry."

Svetlana exhaled and grinned. "Good."

She sighed, whispering something only she could hear, 'I wouldn't want to cry alone'.

.

.

.

.

The tux was on. Damon adjusted the cuffs and rolled his shoulders back once, checking the mirror.

Ty had done a good job on the fade. Clean. Sharp. Better than Damon expected, if he was honest.

Joey stood beside him fixing his own tie, eyes locked on Damon's reflection. "You alright, man?"

Damon gave a short nod. "Yeah. Just… locked in."

Victor walked over and gave him a firm pat on the back. "That's the look of a man who knows what he wants."

"Let's get to the venue," Joey said, grabbing the rings from the dresser. "We've got a schedule, and I'm not letting you be the guy who shows up late to his own wedding."

Ash appeared with sunglasses still on. "Already called the driver. He's downstairs."

They left the house together, each man quietly settling into his role. The drive was short, but silent.

The weight in the car was obvious, no nerves about the choice, just the moment. Damon watched the streets pass by. This was the last ride he'd take as an unmarried man.

The venue was already alive when they arrived. Staff moved with quick hands, adjusting flowers and guiding guests.

The outdoor area overlooked the coast. White chairs were arranged in clean rows, and an arch stood at the front with soft cloth flowing in the breeze.

They got there earlier than expected.

Damon stepped out of the car and adjusted his cuffs again, then smoothed the front of his jacket.

His hands weren't shaking, but he could feel the tension. It was deep in his chest, working its way through every breath. He looked around.

The venue wasn't huge. That was intentional.

He and Svetlana didn't want a flashy wedding. Just something real, something with meaning.

Family. Close friends. And, inevitably, friends of friends who somehow ended up on the guest list anyway. It wasn't overcrowded, but it was still more eyes than he was used to when not fighting.

The rows of white chairs stretched clean down the aisle.

Flowers lined the path, nothing extravagant, just tasteful arrangements of soft whites and blues.

The ocean wasn't far behind it all, Santa Monica's breeze giving movement to everything that wasn't nailed down. He could smell salt in the air, but that didn't calm him.

Joey noticed. "You breathing?"

Damon didn't answer right away. He was watching people arrive.