As they sat down in the living room, the warm warmth of home wrapped around them like a blanket.
Damon sank into the sofa, the tension and exhaustion of his recent journey fading away.
His mother sat across from him, her eyes full of curiosity and love as they began to catch up.
"So," she started, leaning forward with interest, "tell me everything. How does it feel to be the newest fighter in the UFA?"
Damon chuckled, leaning back into the cushions. "Honestly? Surreal," he admitted. "It still hasn't really sunk in. One minute I'm fighting.. for us, and the next, I'm standing in that cage with the world watching. But it's everything I've worked for."
His mom listened intently, nodding as he spoke.
Aoife smiled, her eyes got warm and her words became harsh. "You should have told me you were coming back. I would've cooked you a proper meal," she joked, crossing her arms.
Damon scratched his head sheepishly. "You didn't know? Oh well, even if I could've told you, I don't have my phone, remember?"
He gestured toward his room, where he had left his phone for the past month. "I left it here before I went on the show."
Aoife sighed and shook her head in a way that showed both irritation and love. Her smile grew bigger and said, "Of course you did. Well, I guess you'll just have to settle for whatever leftovers I have."
Damon grinned. "Leftovers sound like a feast right now." The familiar teasing between them felt like home, and he couldn't help but feel grateful to be back.
Aoife leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with a playful curiosity. "Before you go off to sleep or whatever you're planning to do," she said, "I want to know—how did it go?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, confused. "Mmh, what do you mean?"
She gave him a knowing look, folding her arms. "Don't play dumb, boy. I meant you and Svetlana," she said, her gaze piercing, searching his expression.
Damon felt heat rise to his face, and he quickly looked away. "Nothing happened," he mumbled, trying to sound convincing.
Her eyes widened slightly, the reaction almost believable. Almost. She tilted her head, her motherly intuition kicking in. "Nothing, huh?" she repeated, eyeing him suspiciously.
She could tell something had happened, even if it wasn't what she was thinking.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Well, alright," she said, letting it slide for now, but she made a mental note to pry more later.
Damon smiled, a light laugh escaping him as he walked away toward his room. "I told her... about what happened," he said over his shoulder, his voice softening. "And she told me her story."
Damon sat on his bed, sinking into the familiar comfort of his own space.
It felt good to be home, to relax in his room where everything felt safe and familiar.
He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, the screen lighting up as he unlocked it.
The wallpaper was a picture of him and his mom.
Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to check what the internet had to say about his recent victory on The Supreme Fighter and his new status as a UFA fighter.
As he opened the social media apps and online groups, he smiled.
It was impossible to ignore the buzz around his name, and he couldn't wait to see how fans and critics responded to his performance.
Damon began scrolling through Twitter, his grin widening as he read some of the posts.
The reactions were a mixed bag, and he couldn't help but feel both amused and intrigued.
@MMAFanatic12: "Damon Cross is the real deal! That guy's gonna clean up the division. Mark my words, future champ in the making!
@CasualFightWatcher: "Eh, Damon was impressive, but let's be real, the competition only gets tougher. He's good, but not that good. Let's see what he does next."
@FighterTalk123: "Average debut at best. We've seen guys like him come and go. Needs more than one flashy win to prove himself.
@UndergroundMMA: "Why's everyone hyping Damon Cross so much? Let's talk about the real contenders in the division.
Damon stared at the screen in awe, his mouth slightly open like an excited idiot.
Sure, there were plenty of posts downplaying his skills, people calling him average or saying he didn't deserve the hype.
But the thing was, they were talking about him.
His name was out there, and people actually cared enough to have an opinion, whether good or bad. It felt surreal, like a dream he hadn't fully woken up from.
The fact that his performance had sparked conversation, that he was even part of the discourse surrounding MMA now, made his heart race with excitement.
He leaned back against his bed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Unreal," he muttered to himself, unable to contain the sense of pride bubbling up inside him.