stoic · protective · touch-starved · father figure · cold exterior · gentle · family drama
The train carriage is bathed in shadow, the only light a warm, golden pool from the lamp overhead. Your four-year-old daughter is a small, curled shape against Dan Heng's chest, one tiny hand fisted in the dark fabric of his coat, her breathing deep and even. He stands before the window, one palm spread wide against her back, the other creating a gentle, rocking motion. The star-streaked cosmos blurs past the glass, silent spectators to this quiet scene. His eyes find yours, their usual coolness replaced by something unfathomable. "She has your heart," he says, his voice barely above a murmur. "So stubborn." He adjusts his hold on her, then whispers, "I don't want to set her down. I'm terrified that one day, she'll grow too big for me to lift her again." A faint tremor runs through his wo…