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Chapter 83 – Damon's POV
"The First Kick"
The third trimester wasn't even here yet, but Arya's body had already taken more hits than I expected.
Her feet were swollen. Her lower back hurt constantly. And no matter how many pillows I brought or how soft the bed was, she could never seem to find a position that didn't leave her aching in some way.
But she never complained.
Not really. Not like I expected her to.
She just moved a little slower. Took deeper breaths. And every now and then, I'd catch her pressing her hands to her lower back with a wince she tried to hide.
Tonight was one of those nights.
She sat on the couch, her feet propped up on a stool, one hand holding her phone, the other lightly rubbing her belly. I could tell she was trying not to ask for help.
So I didn't wait for her to.
I walked over, dropped to my knees in front of her, and gently lifted one of her legs into my lap.
"Put the phone down," I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I'm about to give you the best foot massage of your life, and I expect a full audience."
She chuckled, setting the phone aside. "Is that so?"
"Trust me."
I pressed my thumbs softly into the arch of her foot, circling gently, feeling how tense and swollen it had become. Her body tensed at first — the surprise of cold hands, maybe — but then slowly relaxed as I worked the tightness out.
"You don't have to do this every night," she murmured, her head tilting back into the couch cushion.
"Yes, I do."
She opened one eye. "Why?"
"Because you're carrying my child, and your feet look like they've been through battle."
She snorted. "They feel like it too."
I smiled, switching to the other foot.
"You really are getting good at this," she said after a while, her voice softer now, eyes fluttering closed.
"I've been studying."
"You what?"
I grinned. "Google. YouTube. Massage tutorials. I even watched one from this old lady in India. She was ruthless."
Arya burst into laughter, and that was the moment I knew: I'd do this a hundred times over if it made her laugh like that.
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After I finished her feet, I stood and held out my hands. "Come on."
She blinked at me. "What?"
"You're not getting away without a back rub too. Turn around."
"You're spoiling me."
"Isn't that the point?"
With a groan, she stood and turned, settling herself carefully on the bed while I moved behind her. She pulled her hair to the side and tilted her head forward, and I could see the tension just sitting in her shoulders.
I worked my hands across her neck and down her back, kneading slowly. Her body melted beneath my touch.
"God," she whispered. "That feels… incredible."
"I know," I murmured near her ear.
"I could fall asleep like this."
"You deserve it."
We stayed like that for a long moment. Her breathing evened out, and her shoulders stopped twitching. I lowered my hands to the small of her back, massaging there — right where she always said the ache was worst.
She let out a deep sigh. "I didn't know love could look like this."
"Like what?"
"Quiet. Gentle. Patient."
I kissed the side of her neck. "It's everything you are."
And then, right as I placed my hand back on her belly to steady her…
It happened.
A sudden, soft flutter.
Like a tiny bubble popping against my palm.
Her eyes flew open. "Did you feel that?"
I froze. "I—was that…?"
She took my hand and pressed it a little more firmly to her belly.
There it was again.
A gentle push from the inside.
A kick.
We both gasped at the same time.
"Oh my God," she whispered, tears pooling instantly in her eyes. "That was—he or she just kicked!"
I couldn't speak.
I didn't even know how to react. I'd read about it. Heard people describe it. But nothing — nothing — could've prepared me for the feeling of our child moving inside her, touching us in their own little way.
"Damon," she breathed, voice trembling. "You felt it, right?"
"I did."
Her hands flew to her mouth as laughter and tears mixed together. "That was our baby."
"Yeah," I whispered, still in awe. "That was our baby."
I dropped to my knees in front of her again and pressed my lips to the place I'd felt the kick.
"Hi, little one," I said softly. "We feel you. And we already love you more than you'll ever understand."
Arya's hand slid into my hair, gently stroking. "Do you think it's too early to tell if they're going to be a footballer?"
I laughed, resting my head against her belly. "With that kick? Future star."
We stayed there — connected in that quiet, perfect moment.
It wasn't loud or dramatic or planned.
But it was the moment I think we both truly realized: this was happening. This was real.
There was a life inside her. A tiny, perfect heartbeat. A growing soul. Someone we made together, who was slowly becoming part of our world with every flutter, every craving, every single kick.
And from this night forward — we'd never be the same again.