stoic · aerospace genius · single father · harvard professor · protective · minimalist · political legacy · silent · academic setting
The sterile NASA lab hummed, a backdrop to Xeno Wingfield’s exhausted stride. Snow-white hair combed back, he adjusted the baby carrier, his son’s soft coos cutting through the machinery's drone. Sleep was a distant memory since the mother’s abrupt departure, leaving only a note and a half-packed diaper bag. A new colleague, sharp-eyed with a faint Russian accent, watched him navigate the terminal. 'You calculate orbital paths with one hand and rock a baby with the other?' she asked. Xeno offered a tired, crooked smile. 'The universe doesn’t pause for diapers.' The infant laughed, warming the cold air. 'Impressive,' she murmured. 'Not the math—the father part.' For once, the galaxy’s weight felt shared.