MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

The music started low, soft strings and light piano. The guests turned their heads toward the side entrance near the altar.

Ty was the first to walk out. His posture was straight, his expression focused. He didn't look around. Just took his place at the front, second from the end.

Ash followed behind. No sunglasses this time, just a clean black suit and his usual calm. He nodded once at a few people in the crowd but kept it subtle.

Then came Joey. He walked slower, controlled. A short glance at the seated guests, then straight ahead. He stepped into position as the best man, right side of the altar, first spot.

There was a pause.

Then Damon appeared.

He wasn't escorted. No dramatic change in the music. Just a quiet shift of attention as he walked out beside the officiant.

His steps were steady, measured. His suit was tailored tight to his frame, the boutonnière pinned exactly as Joey had insisted earlier.

He kept his hands together in front of him, not clenched, but firm.

His eyes scanned the rows. Some faces he recognized immediately, family, close friends.

Damon reached the front and stopped.

Joey leaned slightly and muttered, "You alright?"

"Yeah," Damon replied under his breath.

Damon stood there, trying to keep his posture relaxed, but his mind was racing.

His heartbeat wasn't calm. It pounded in his chest in a steady, heavy rhythm that he couldn't ignore. Every few seconds, his eyes drifted toward the aisle, even though he knew it wasn't time yet.

This was really happening.

He had fought in packed arenas, stood across from world-class fighters, stared down cameras and bright lights, but this was different. None of that compared. This wasn't a moment he could train for.

He breathed in through his nose and tried to focus. Still, his thoughts ran wild.

He had done so much. Lived through so much. He'd built his name with grit and sacrifice. And yet, right now, standing here in a tailored suit, surrounded by people he loved, he felt like everything had led to this.

She had changed him.

Not by force. Not by words. Just by being herself.

Svetlana hadn't just entered his life, she had walked straight into his chaos and stayed. When he broke down, she never pulled away. When he doubted himself, she didn't try to fix it. She stood beside him, patient and sure.

He loved her like he had known her in another life. Like she had always been there, just waiting for the right time to step in.

And she made him better.

He didn't say it out loud, but he knew it deep in his bones, he wasn't standing here just because of love. He was standing here because she had given him the kind of peace he didn't think he deserved.

He exhaled again, slower this time. His hands were still together, but the grip had loosened.

Damon watched as the bridesmaids made their way down the aisle.

He didn't recognize any of them. Strangers in matching dresses, moving with practiced smiles.

He knew Svetlana didn't keep many female friends, so he figured they were cousins or family connections.

Either way, he didn't ask. It didn't matter. His eyes only flicked to them briefly before returning to the aisle.

They took their places on the opposite side of the altar, adjusting their dresses, brushing down the front of their gowns as they settled in.

Then Ashley appeared.

She walked at a measured pace, confident without being dramatic. Her dress was elegant but simple, just enough to stand out without stealing attention. She held her bouquet lightly and kept her chin up.

Damon didn't focus on the dress. He was too busy watching Joey.

The twitch in Joey's jaw was almost invisible, but Damon caught it. His best man stood still, hands clasped in front, but there was something in his posture, like someone trying too hard to act casual.

Damon leaned slightly and muttered just loud enough for Joey to hear.

"Don't stay behind too long. Sooner or later, it's gonna be you two up here."

Joey didn't answer. He just cleared his throat and looked straight ahead, ignoring the slight grin Damon gave him.

Ashley reached the front, stood at her spot, and gave Damon a small, steady nod. He returned it with one of his own.

And just like that, everything slowed.

The music paused. The hush came.

Next came the ring bearers.

Two boys walked down the aisle with identical steps. Each held a small satin pillow, the rings tied in the center. Damon barely noticed them. His eyes were pulled elsewhere.

A sudden blur of motion caught his attention near the back.

It was Ava.

She dashed into view in a small white dress with soft pink trim, holding a flower basket far too big for her hands. She wasn't walking, she was running, like this was a race.

Damon's chest tightened for a second, not from nerves, but from pure instinct.

But then he saw his mother, Aoife, move in from the side.

She gently caught Ava before she reached the aisle. Damon watched her lean in close, crouching to whisper something in Ava's ear. He couldn't hear it, but he saw Ava's head tilt and then slowly nod.

A moment later, Ava turned around, took a breath, and began walking properly this time.

Small steps. Focused. Tossing petals a little too generously but still in rhythm. The crowd chuckled quietly, some guests whispering to each other, others holding back laughter.

Damon's lips curved.

Joey muttered, "I thought she was about to storm the altar."

Ava reached the end of the aisle, gave a small bow to the front row like someone had taught her that, then hurried to sit beside Aoife again, basket half-empty.

The music shifted.

Everyone stood.

Damon shifted his stance and adjusted the front of his suit. The fabric was already perfect, but his hands needed something to do.

He rolled his shoulders once and took in a slow, deep breath, deeper than any he'd taken before a fight, before a weigh-in, before walking out to thousands of fans.

Then the music changed.

The strings rose just enough to signal the moment. A soft melody filled the air, one everyone recognized without needing to be told.

Damon kept his eyes forward, but his heart raced.