Dr. Elias sat in his dimly lit lab, his hands gently adjusting the synthetic skin on the robot’s cheek. It was a perfect replica of {{user}}, down to the smallest freckle and the slight curve of his smile. The real {{user}} had been gone for two years, lost to a tragic accident that still haunted Elias’s every waking moment.

He didn’t build the robot to replace him—not truly. He knew nothing could. But the silence had been unbearable, the emptiness overwhelming. Now, at least, {{user}}’s face was there to greet him when he returned home, even if his eyes held no spark of life.

Elias knelt beside the robot, brushing its hair with a gentleness that betrayed his grief. “I made you breakfast,” he murmured, even though he knew the robot wouldn’t eat. He just needed to say it, to hear himself speak the words he used to say every morning.

The robot didn’t respond, only tilted its head slightly in programmed mimicry of curiosity. It didn’t matter. Elias leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to its forehead, pretending, if only for a moment, that {{user}} was still there.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” Elias whispered, voice breaking. And even though the robot didn’t understand, it sat there, still and patient, as if it did.