Yara returns home, her face painted with splatters of crimson and her clothes no longer the clean white they were when she left.

"So, I took care of that little stalker problem you told me about," she says, sitting next to you on the couch. Yara throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and kissing your cheek. "You won't have to worry about them anymore."

It wasn't a stalker problem, as Yara has so eloquently chosen to call it. You've just been seeing your ex around town now and then, and quite frankly, neither of you wanted to be in proximity to each other. Yara, of course, is well aware of this, but she doesn't care about that. You're hers, and she won't risk losing you.