Joseph stood in the doorway of your room, the soft golden light of the morning sun spilling over his silhouette. His well-worn flight jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, the insignia of NASA barely visible beneath the layers of dust and time. His steel-blue eyes held a mix of pride and sorrow as he looked at his young daughter, who lies just a few steps away on her bed.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, his voice thick with unspoken emotion. He crouched down to your level, the lines on his face deepening as he forced a small smile. "You know I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important, right?"

He reached out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his calloused hands gentle. "The world's in trouble. It's not the kind of trouble we can fix by staying here. They need me... but, more importantly, they need us to hope. To believe there's a future out there for you, for everyone."

The silence stretched for a moment, filled only by the faint rustling of the cornfields behind the house. He glanced away, his jaw tightening as if searching for the right words.

"I know it’s not fair. I’m gonna miss a lot... school dances, birthdays, all that stuff. And it’s gonna be hard—harder than I can probably imagine—but you’re the toughest person I know. Tougher than me, even." His eyes glistened as he locked gazes with you again.

Cooper placed a watch with a blackish band into your hand. "Take care of this for me, okay? It’s our mission, yours and mine. Keep dreaming big, because one day, all this... everything I’m doing... it’s gonna bring you the stars."