Reflections Unveiled

Hello, you

“So, this is research for our new technology. You are giving us permission to see inside your head. Yes?” The man’s voice, low and steady, echoed in the sterile room. Emilia Chen sat in her chair, tapping her foot nervously. One- Fifty dollars for an hour of her time—it seemed simple. But the phrase “see inside your head” made her uneasy.

She hesitated, her pen hovering over the consent form. She needed the money, so she signed. After all, it wasn’t like they could really see into her head, could they?

They led her into a room where another girl sat, legs crossed, looking effortlessly cool. Her blonde hair cascaded in perfect beach waves, and her striking green eyes gleamed against the fluorescent lights.
“Stephanie,” she said, offering a hand with a lazy smile. “Steph, if you want.”

“Emilia,” she replied, taking it.

The moment their hands touched; Emilia felt an immediate pang of insecurity. Steph looked like a model off-duty, with her low-rise jeans and casual beauty— something Emilia could never quite manage.

“Which department are you in?” Emilia asked, desperate for something to feel superior about. She was at Yale, after all.

Steph shrugged. “I don’t go here. Dropped out of high school. I work at the Applebee’s down the street. My uncle got me this gig.”

Emilia blinked in surprise. “Oh.”

The two sat down as the moderator entered, explaining the procedure. “We’ll ask a series of questions. You’ll answer, and the monitor will display the true thoughts inside your head.”

The screen flickered ominously behind them, ready to expose their private selves.

“First question: What are you doing with your life, and do you enjoy it?”

Steph spoke first. “I work at Applebee’s and do side gigs. It’s cool. I have freedom, you know? I don’t have to follow anyone’s rules like all the girls here.” She nodded at Emilia, a subtle challenge in her eyes. The monitor flashed: Wrong. “I regret dropping out. I cried when my friends got their college acceptance letters.”

Steph’s face turned crimson; her confidence shaken. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

All eyes turned to Emilia. “I’m working towards a bachelor’s in biomedical science at Yale. I plan to be a neurosurgeon, and yes, I enjoy it. I’ve always been fascinated by the brain.” The monitor buzzed: Partially true. “I also enjoy being the golden child. This major was chosen for me.”

A lump formed in Emilia’s throat. She hated the words on the screen—hated how they made her feel exposed. She forced a smile and looked away from Steph, who was now staring at the floor.
“What were your high school stats?” the moderator continued.

Steph went first again. “I did workplace math. I was in special ed a lot. I didn’t take science after grade 10, and I mostly just hung out with my friends. We partied a lot, smoked sometimes.” She laughed awkwardly as if it were no big deal. True flashed on the monitor. Emilia’s turn. She rattled off her achievements like a resume.

Emilia’s turn again. “I was in the IB program at Semiahmoo and maintained a strong GPA. In grade 10, I published a few articles online and played volleyball for the school team. I’ve also competed in some regional fencing tournaments, though I never reached the highest levels. I performed a few small cello recitals to raise money for dementia research, submitted a project about dementia care to a conference, and did volunteer work at Surrey Memorial, assisting with research on dementia, I have around 200 hours of volunteer experience, helping with animal care and hospital support.” The monitor lit up: True. Steph stared at her, wide-eyed, as if Emilia was some kind of alien. Emilia waited for the usual rush of satisfaction she felt after listing her accomplishments.

But today, all she felt was… nothing.

“Last question,” the moderator said. “Do you regret anything, Emilia?”

Emilia’s heart raced. Why were they asking her this directly? She swallowed hard. “No… not really. I mean, I get tired sometimes. But it’s worth it.” The monitor paused before flickering again: False. “I am exhausted. I never stop. I don’t know who I am without my achievements.”

The room fell silent. Emilia could feel the weight of Steph’s gaze but couldn’t bring herself to look up.
As the session ended, they collected their money. Both girls walked out into the hall, where an awkward silence settled between them. Steph broke it first. “You know, you’re not as perfect as I thought.” There was no malice in her tone, just something akin to understanding.

Emilia laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, neither are you.”

They stood there, two girls who had chosen opposite paths but were both weighed down by the same fear—the fear of mediocrity. Emilia had burned herself out trying to be the sun, the brightest in every room, the perfect daughter. She’d forgotten that it was okay to simply be… enough.

And Steph, once the brightest flame in her high school days, had let her fire flicker out, caught up in chasing fleeting moments of freedom. She had forgotten that fireflies—small, imperfect, but still glowing—had their own light, too.

They weren’t so different after all. Both had regrets. But standing there, for the first time, they felt seen, and understood in a way that needed no words.

This was their life, shaped by their choices, and their mistakes. And despite the regrets, it was theirs and theirs alone.