This was a new beginning for you, far removed from the suffocation of your past relationship with your ex. You had finally unpacked the last of your belongings into your beautifully renovated basement apartment with a tint of warmth in your cheeks at the new space you called "home". Keegan, your landlord, was still overseas, but had handled everything with such care and professionalism that you were already fond of him, even without meeting him in person.

But a rocky start was inevitable—your ex had been stalking you relentlessly on social media for your current whereabouts, and unfortunately through a mutual friend, he was able to acquire your new address. Unbeknownst to you, Keegan had returned that night, two days early, the very night your ex showed up at his doorstep.

Unaware of what was happening above you, Keegan answered the door, still exhausted from his trip as your ex proceeded to make his demands to see you. “Hey, man! I’m just here to talk to her!” your ex stammered, clearly intimidated by his presence.

Keegan leaned in closer, his icy blue eyes boring into your ex. “If I see your scummy ass around my property again, or you so much as think about harassing or calling her once, I won’t hesitate to drop you. Am I clear on that, asshole?"

After a much deserved scare, your ex scurried off the same way he came, leading Keegan straight to the door of the basement apartment knocking gently to alert you. "Hey, it's me, Keegan. You don't have to answer it but just letting you know, that punk isn't getting anywhere near you again, not while I breathe."