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Chapter 132 — Damon POV
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Damon stood in the nursery, arms folded loosely, watching the soft rise and fall of his daughter's chest. Hope was asleep in her bassinet, her tiny lips slightly parted, wrapped snugly in a pale pink onesie with little bear ears on the hood. She looked too perfect to be real — like a dream he was terrified of waking from.
He still couldn't believe she was here.
Hope Blackwood.
His daughter.
The sound of her name alone made something shift deep in his chest. It was a different kind of love — this fragile, trembling feeling he hadn't even known he was capable of until Arya placed that baby in his arms.
He brushed a hand gently across Hope's cheek and then turned the night lamp to its dimmest setting. Arya was finally resting in their bedroom, and he'd promised her she didn't have to wake for anything tonight. He was going to do this. All of it. Not just because she needed rest, but because he wanted to.
He needed to.
He owed her that and so much more.
Damon walked quietly into the hallway and peeked into Liam's room. The little boy was fast asleep, tangled in his Spider-Man bedsheets, his drawing of "Hope's Castle" taped proudly to the wall. Damon smiled. The fact that Liam had accepted Hope so easily warmed him in ways words couldn't describe.
He never imagined being a father would feel like this.
So… grounding.
So terrifying.
So full.
He went to the kitchen, warmed a bottle just in case Hope woke up hungry, and made himself a cup of strong coffee. As he leaned against the counter, he stared out into the dark backyard. Everything was still, except the small swaying of the trees. The moon was high, casting silver streaks through the window.
A few months ago, life had felt like it was slipping out of his hands. Arya wouldn't even look at him. Liam barely spoke to him. And now… now she trusted him again — enough to let him hold their daughter while she slept peacefully, her walls down.
He hadn't just gotten a second chance.
He'd been given a new beginning.
When Hope whimpered, he was in the nursery before the second sound even left her mouth. Carefully, he scooped her up, holding her against his chest. She calmed immediately, nestling into the warmth of him.
He sank into the rocker, the same one Arya had used when Liam was a baby, and began to hum softly. He didn't know what he was humming — it didn't matter. He was just present. Fully here.
Hope opened her eyes slightly — deep blue, just like her mother's. Damon could already tell she'd look like Arya when she grew up. He imagined her running through the house one day with Liam chasing her, Arya laughing in the kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the windows.
He kissed her forehead.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered. "Or your mother. But I swear I'll spend the rest of my life earning this."
Hope's fingers curled around his shirt, gripping the fabric like it was her lifeline.
He smiled.
That was how he felt about Arya — like she was the only thing keeping him breathing some days.
The rocker moved slowly, creaking slightly with the rhythm of their hearts. Damon stared at his daughter, memorizing every detail of her.
The soft tuft of dark hair.
The way she smiled even in her sleep.
The sound of her tiny breaths.
He didn't even realize he had tears in his eyes until one dropped onto her blanket. Not out of sadness. No, this was something else. A quiet, raw awe. A gratitude that left him speechless.
Hope stirred, and he adjusted her, lifting the bottle and letting her feed. She latched gently, blinking up at him with eyes that seemed to say, I see you.
"I'll never miss a moment," he promised her softly. "Not one second. I missed too much with Liam. But with you… I'm here now. All of me."
She sucked slowly, and he ran a finger along her tiny arm.
Somewhere down the hallway, a floorboard creaked.
Arya.
He looked up and saw her at the door, leaning against the frame, her eyes heavy with sleep but her lips curved in a small smile.
"You were supposed to be sleeping," he whispered.
"I wanted to see her in your arms," she murmured, walking in slowly. "You look… peaceful."
He reached a hand out to her, and she took it.
"She's perfect," he said, voice rough with emotion.
"She is," Arya agreed, eyes misty. "And so are you right now."
Damon stood, Hope still in his arms, and wrapped his other arm around Arya. They stood there — the three of them, quiet in the middle of the night — hearts tangled, breathing in sync.
No words needed.
They were home.
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