Damon had planned this trip for a reason.
He didn't bring Svetlana to Bali for the beaches or the luxury resorts.
He wasn't here to show off or flash the money he'd earned. That wasn't the point. He wanted ti with her, real ti. No distractions, no training schedules, no caras in his face. Just them.
Ever since they started dating, she had been the one holding him together. She was there when he was starting out, when he was still fighting to make a na for himself.
She stayed when things got hard, when the pressure piled up, and when the past he tried to bury ca back. She stood by him through all of it without asking for anything in return.
Now, Damon felt like it was ti to do his part.
He wanted to give her more than the life of a fighter's girlfriend. More than waiting for him to finish a fight camp. More than standing in the background while he chased sothing.
This trip was about her.
He wanted to show her how much she mattered.
Not with gifts, though he had those too, but with his ti. With attention. With presence.
He was ready for sothing different.
For sothing permanent.
Damon didn't have doubts about it anymore.
He wanted her in his life for good.
Before diving into any big decisions, Damon wanted this trip to be about enjoying themselves. No pressure. Just ti together, doing things they never really had the chance to before. Bali was the start of it.
Their days had a rhythm, but nothing strict. In the mornings, they woke up early enough to catch the sunrise over the jungle canopy.
Svetlana liked to drink coffee on the villa terrace while Damon sat beside her, watching the sky go from deep blue to bright gold.
The floating breakfasts beca a regular thing, plates of fresh fruit, pancakes, and eggs brought out to their private infinity pool.
So days, they booked excursions.
They visited the rice terraces in Tegallalang, walking along the edges while locals offered to take photos or sell them souvenirs.
They didn't need guides. Damon kept a close eye on their surroundings, while Svetlana asked questions about the culture, the traditions, always curious.
They went to temples.
Tirta Empul was one of them. Svetlana waded into the holy spring water without hesitation, while Damon stood back for a mont, watching her. Then he followed.
In Uluwatu, they made ti for the beaches.
They rented a private cabana and spent hours doing nothing but swimming and laying under the sun.
So afternoons, they rode scooters along the coast, stopping for food at small warungs. Damon preferred grilled seafood. Svetlana developed a thing for fresh mango juice.
At night, it changed.
They had private dinners arranged through the resort. Candlelit tables set up by the water or on a cliffside deck.
There was always a view, and it was always quiet. The food was local but done to perfection, grilled fish, satay, fresh vegetables. They didn't rush through anything.
They tried the spa once.
Damon wasn't new to spas. He had never needed them, or at least, that's what he told himself. Recovery had always been about getting back to work, not slowing down.
If it wasn't for Victor, he probably wouldn't have bothered with half of it. Victor had drilled it into him early on, take care of the body, even if you don't feel it breaking down yet.
The fights did damage, but the training camps were worse. Damon listened because Victor was usually right.
He still had his system. The elixirs helped. More than anyone could ever understand. But he couldn't tell them about that.
So he went through the motions like everyone else. Cryo chambers, ice baths, massages, stretching sessions. It was all part of the job.
This, though, was different.
The spa was quiet and private, just the two of them. They'd been led to a room with low lighting, the sll of sothing herbal in the air.
Soft music played in the background, he barely noticed it. Svetlana had been the one to push for this.
A couples' massage. Sothing normal people did on trips like this. He'd said yes without thinking much about it.
It was simple. And maybe he needed it more than he thought.
Throughout the spa session, they talked. Nothing deep. Just easy conversation, the kind that filled the ti without effort. Damon asked her about the last book she read.
Svetlana joked about the massage therapist's elbow digging in a little too hard on his shoulder. They laughed about it.
Later that evening, they went out for dinner. Damon had asked the driver for a recomndation earlier in the day, sothing local, not the tourist traps.
The driver had pointed them toward a place in Seminyak. It wasn't fancy, but it didn't need to be.
The restaurant was tucked away from the main road. Small, open-air, warm lights strung up above the tables.
The sll of grilled at and spices drifted through the air as they walked in. A staff mber greeted them, led them to a quiet corner table with a view of the ocean just beyond the street.
They ordered dishes neither of them could pronounce at first.
Nasi Campur. Sate Lilit. Pepes Ikan.
Everything ca out fast. Fresh. Full of flavor that hit hard without being overwhelming. Damon didn't talk much while he ate.
He didn't need to. Svetlana did most of the talking anyway, which he liked. She told him stories from her childhood, things he hadn't heard before.
He listened.
It was easy.
They stayed for a while after they finished eating, not in a rush to leave.
Svetlana leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, smiling like she had no reason to be anywhere else.
Damon felt the sa.
Though their days in Indonesia were coming to an end, neither of them seed in a hurry to leave.
They had made the most of it, early mornings by the pool, afternoons exploring, quiet dinners, and long drives through the countryside. There wasn't much left on their list, but they weren't checking boxes. They were just living.
They knew they still had more places to go. Other countries lined up for the trip. Damon had planned it that way. He wanted them to see everything, but he also didn't want to rush through it.
Bali had been good to them. The calm. The ti away from everything. Every night they spent there ended the sa way, just them.
They had their space, and they made the most of it. Nights were quiet at first, then not so quiet once the doors were closed.
He loved and was passionate about her.
He showed it in the way he was with her. Every night was different, but every night made it clear how he felt about her.
And she was the sa. Nothing forced. Nothing held back.
They understood each other without needing to talk about it.
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