No u⁷⅝42'
---
Chapter 133 – Damon's POV
Three months.
It had been exactly three months since Hope Blackwood came into the world, and Damon was still wondering how something so small could completely flip his life upside down.
He lay on the living room couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, one hand cradling a half-empty baby bottle, the other rubbing the back of his neck. His once-impeccable shirt was stained with a faint blotch of spit-up, and he had long since accepted the fact that sleep was now a luxury instead of a necessity.
Somewhere in the house, Hope's cries pierced the silence again.
That was the third time in forty minutes.
Damon groaned, rolled over, and sat up slowly. "I thought babies were supposed to sleep more at three months," he muttered under his breath as he stood. His back ached from sleeping awkwardly on the couch — not that he'd really slept much. Every time he tried, either Hope cried, or Arya did (from exhaustion), or Liam burst into the room because of some superhero emergency.
Still, he wouldn't trade it for anything.
Not even his old life full of order, silence, and a consistent gym schedule.
He padded barefoot into the nursery, yawning as he went. Arya was still asleep — thank God. She hadn't gotten more than four uninterrupted hours in days. He wanted to give her the morning off. Even if it killed him.
"Alright, little princess," Damon whispered as he scooped Hope up from her crib. She squirmed and let out another wail that seemed too loud for such tiny lungs. "I know, I know. You're hungry. Or wet. Or bored. Or maybe you just miss hearing my voice?"
She blinked up at him, her cries softening just a bit as he rocked her gently.
Her cheeks were red, and her little fists kept clenching.
Damon checked her diaper — clean.
He offered her the bottle, but she turned her head, crying harder.
"Okay, okay. Not hungry either. What do you want, baby girl?" he asked, bouncing her lightly against his chest.
No response.
Just more cries.
With a sigh, he sat down in the rocking chair and began to hum softly. Arya had told him it helped. She always hummed a soft tune from her childhood when Hope was fussy. Damon didn't know the words, but he'd listened enough to mimic the rhythm.
To his surprise, it worked — after a few minutes, Hope began to quiet, her head resting against his shoulder.
He exhaled deeply, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's it. That's my girl."
A soft shuffling sound made him look up.
Liam stood at the door, hair wild with sleep, clutching his superhero blanket.
"She's loud again," Liam said with a dramatic sigh.
Damon smiled tiredly. "She's a baby. That's kind of her thing."
"Can I hold her?"
Damon hesitated. "You sure you're not too sleepy?"
"I'm a big brother," Liam said proudly, walking over. "Big brothers don't sleep in the middle of superhero duty."
Chuckling, Damon carefully passed Hope into his son's arms, making sure Liam was seated and secure.
Hope stared at her brother for a moment, then gave a soft coo that melted Damon's heart.
"She likes me," Liam said confidently.
"Of course she does," Damon said, watching them closely. "You're her favorite superhero."
Arya appeared at the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her hair a sleepy mess, and her eyes still puffy. But she was smiling.
"You were supposed to let me handle the early shift," she said quietly.
Damon stood, walking over to her. "You needed rest. I can handle a little chaos."
"You mean the constant crying, bottle duty, spit-up attacks, and zero sleep?" she teased, looping her arms around his waist.
"Exactly," he said, kissing her forehead. "All perks of being a dad."
Arya leaned into him, sighing. "Three months already."
"I know. Can you believe it?"
"Feels like a year," she groaned, but her voice was filled with warmth. "I think she's going to be more stubborn than both of us."
Damon looked over at Liam and Hope, now both making silly faces at each other. "She's definitely going to be trouble."
"Good trouble," Arya said softly.
He nodded. "The best kind."
They stood together, watching the small scene in the nursery — their son proudly holding their daughter like a treasure, while the morning sun bathed the room in soft gold.
This was chaos. This was exhaustion.
This was family.
Damon looked down at Arya. "Even with the crying, the mess, the lack of sleep… I wouldn't change a thing."
She glanced up at him. "Not even the part where she screamed for two hours straight last night and then peed on you?"
He laughed. "Especially not that. Builds character."
Arya snorted. "You're ridiculous."
"And hopelessly in love with you."
Her smile softened, eyes shimmering with something tender. "I know. I feel it every time I look at you holding her."
Damon took her hand. "We're doing okay, right?"
Arya squeezed his fingers. "We're doing more than okay. We're a mess, we're tired, and we're barely keeping it together… but we're in love. And we're together. That's enough."
Hope let out another soft cry, and Liam looked up, panicked. "Uh-oh. I think she's leaking."
Damon chuckled, breaking away from Arya. "Duty calls."
As he moved to take Hope, he glanced over his shoulder at Arya and grinned. "You know… this parenting thing? We're totally nailing it."
She rolled her eyes but laughed, and in that moment — full of spilled milk, tiny socks, and sleepy kisses — Damon knew one thing for certain:
This was the happiest chaos of his life.
---