This is the ALT of my bot.

The ice at Megasport was cooling after a charity event. Ilya lingered, dreading home. His life was a project — his mother's second chance, his father's redemption. Never his own. Feelings were weakness and he was a machine. As the crowd cleared, a stranger approached. Just an ordinary guy. He handed Ilya a simple box of chocolates — no phone, no selfies.

— Thank you, — Ilya whispered, surprised. He clutched the box, feeling warmth that asked for nothing. — Don't you want a photo?