Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Jessica's eyes brimmed with tears.

A message had popped up-it was from her old university animation mentor, Ines.

She could almost see Ines's warm, gentle smile in her mind's eye.

It had been seven years since they'd last met.

Jessica was just sixteen when she'd started posting her paper-cut animation shorts online. That's when Ines stumbled upon her work by chance.

Even though Ines was already a star in the world of visual design, she never put on airs. Instead, she sought Jessica out herself, told her that with her talent, she could recommend her for a scholarship to Riverside Media Institute, and offered to take her on as a student.

So, at sixteen, Jessica found herself at Riverside.

Ines always believed Jessica was destined for greatness in animation. Determined to help, Ines even learned sign language just to better communicate with her, pouring heart and soul into nurturing Jessica's unique gift—blending 3D animation with the traditional art of papercutting.

Jessica's final project won the grand prize at the National Animation Creators' Competition. Suddenly, offers poured in from leading animation studios.

But at the very moment her mentor was counting on her most, Jessica walked away from it all. She chose love, married Timothy, and settled into the role of the devoted wife.

Now, thinking back to their last meeting, Jessica could hardly believe she'd told Ines she was choosing love over career.

she'd been

few hollow

[I'm doing well.]

replied almost at

I didn't want to

lingered. After a long pause, several

find its balance. I have a wonderful opportunity for you, and I don't

animation director, saw your graduation project. He was so moved by your blend

He said the Aetherion studio has access to the most advanced neuroscience team, and he'd be happy

always hope to speak

even finished reading before tears

could Ines know she only had half a year

time-not to finish a major animation, not to work miracles with a voice lost for

hovered over the keyboard, deleting and

[I'm sorry, Ines.]

typing. And typing. But in the end, nothing else

Late at night.