Ctrl+Z: Undoing Regret

Ethan Rao stared at the screen, fingers trembling over his keyboard. On it blinked a line of code—harmless looking, but life-altering in function.

He had done it.

The program stared back: “LifeSync v2.0: Activate?”

It started as a joke. A coding challenge at a reunion. “If you could undo one decision in life, what would it be?” asked his old roommate, James. Everyone had laughed. Ethan hadn’t. He hadn’t laughed in a long time.

Because five years ago, Ethan had made a choice—a choice that cost him the love of his life, his mother’s final moments, and his career.

All because of pride.


---

Ethan was a prodigy at 22, already working with one of the top AI firms in Singapore. But he was also stubborn. When his mother was hospitalized with late-stage cancer, his boss granted him time off. Ethan, mid-project, refused.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “She’s a fighter.”

She wasn’t. She passed away while he was demoing a facial recognition software for airport security. No one applauded when the presentation ended. Ethan’s phone had buzzed mid-demo. He didn’t check it until it was too late.

Later that week, Lara—his girlfriend of four years—left.

“I begged you,” she whispered at the door, suitcase in hand. “I begged you to go. To say goodbye.”

“I didn’t think it would be the last time,” he replied, hollow.

“That’s the thing with last times. They never send calendar invites.”

He didn’t see her again.


---

In the present, Ethan had become a ghost in his own timeline. Still brilliant, still coding. But only in freelance gigs now, surviving on insomnia and regret.

LifeSync started as escapism—a project to simulate past decision trees and predict alternate outcomes. But somewhere between caffeine and obsession, the code evolved. He didn’t just simulate regret—he built an interface to enter it.

The first test was small. He set the date to three weeks ago, when he missed his cousin’s wedding because he “didn’t feel like going.” He rewound, went, and remembered the taste of biryani and the way his aunt had smiled, shocked to see him. When the program returned him to the present, he had photos on his phone. Real ones. His cousin remembered him being there.

It wasn’t a hallucination. It was a patch.

Ethan called it “Reality Reversion.” He had rewritten his own code.

And now… he hovered over the line that would let him return to the day before his mother passed.

He pressed Enter.


---

October 11, 2020.

Ethan stood in his office, same hoodie, same coffee ring on the desk. But his hands weren’t shaking. His heart pounded.

He pulled out his phone. “Mom,” he said, breathless. “I’m coming.”

She cried when she saw him, but not because she was sick. Because he came.

They talked for hours. She gave him her recipe book. He apologized. She forgave him. He held her hand until her pulse faded.

She smiled before she left.

And it wasn’t on a phone screen.


---

Back in 2025, Ethan collapsed on the floor. He felt lighter. He looked at his calendar. His mom’s birthday reminder had been replaced with “Cook her favorite curry.” A note in her handwriting now sat by the mirror.

He cried for twenty minutes.

But there was still one save file to restore.

Lara.


---

She lived in Prague now, working for a neuro-tech startup. Ethan found her on LinkedIn and messaged: “Hi. I think I finally listened.”

She replied two days later: “Funny. I had a dream last night you apologized.”

He flew out two weeks later.

They met in a quiet café. She looked older. So did he.

“I changed time,” he said after two cappuccinos and awkward pauses. “I went back. Said goodbye to Mom.”

She studied him for a while. “You look like someone who stopped running.”

“I realized I was chasing a version of life I thought I needed,” Ethan said. “Then I started repairing the one I had broken.”

She smiled, sad and warm. “It’s not about the tools we build, Ethan. It’s about who we become after using them.”

They walked the river that evening. He didn’t ask her to come back. She didn’t offer. But when they said goodbye, she kissed his cheek.

“I’m proud of you,” she said. “Even if it took five years.”


---

Two months later, Ethan published LifeSync v2.1 as a motivational framework. No time travel. No patches. Just stories of real regrets and how people turned them into blueprints for action.

The software asked only one question:
“What would you undo—if only you could?”

Then it mapped out small steps forward from the pain. It didn’t erase the past. It honored it.

LifeSync became the most downloaded self-help app of 2026.


---

Years later, at a TED Talk titled “The Power of Productive Regret,” Ethan stood on stage.

“I used to believe Ctrl+Z was the greatest key ever invented,” he told the crowd. “But now I know—it’s not about undoing. It’s about redoing. Better. Braver.”

He paused. “Sometimes, life doesn’t give you second save files. But it gives you second chances. You just have to show up for them.”

The audience rose in silence, then applause.

In the front row, Lara smiled, eyes soft.

And this time, Ethan saw her.

Fully.

Present.

Home.