Goodbye, Mr. Regret

"Dad, look at this."

Timothy took the phone from Henry and glanced at the video account. A brand- new movie trailer had just been uploaded.

He asked hoarsely, "Is this your mother's account?"

"Looks like it is."

A shadow crossed Timothy's eyes. "Have you seen these before?"

Tears welled in Henry's eyes. "Yeah... I have. Every night, Mom would play me stories from this account. I... I just never realized..."

A wave of guilt crashed over him. He'd never truly understood what his mother had done for him.

Because she couldn't speak, she couldn't read him bedtime stories like other moms. So she found another way-she made these videos, just for him. All this time, he'd thought she just found random cartoons online. He'd even complained to her face that all she did was play videos on her phone, that it didn't mean anything.

He'd begged Sheila to stay and tell him stories, even pushed his own mother aside for it.

Later, when he learned Sheila was popular and could animate stories-when his classmates envied him-he thought, wouldn't it be great if Sheila could be his mom instead?

But his real mother had always been able to make cartoons.

could write her own stories,

tales she once told him alone were now being

felt like

he'd cut

mom was mute, he'd never dared admit she was

must that have

voice hitched as he started to sob,

wrong... I'm... I'm so sorry

him, sharper

had to admit what

happened when he'd

Timothy finally understand why Jessica had left for the capital alone, even though she'd promised to celebrate her birthday with him when

his son, but the words stuck in

just Henry's fault. He was

never helped Henry understand, never guided him to notice

just... yell at me. I... I let Mom down." Henry's self-reproach

bring himself to add to

"No more tears, okay? Let's go find

the car, the two sat in the backseat. Timothy watched

job, she'd poured her energy into