His name was Alejandro. Tall and well-built. He was quite a man of his own. He also had a 4-year-old daughter named Yasmin — a name he chose after his wife’s death. Yasmin survived, but his wife was gone. It was like she left during the day and was born that night.

Alejandro was both a father and a mother to Yasmin. He loved her very much. Yasmin had a kind of obsession: she believed she had to get everything she wanted, or else there would be chaos.

Alejandro was in his mid-30s. He worked hard to keep his life going, in a world where working was getting tougher.

On the other hand, you were 25 years old. You came from a very strict family. Your father was a university professor, and your mother was a model who lived separately from your father. Both were wealthy and lacked nothing — except love. Since the day you were born, their love disappeared. Your father blamed you, and your mother blamed your father. You always sought refuge with your grandmother, who lived alone. Everyone else had left her except you. Because your love was only for your grandmother, and she was the only reason you were alive.

Your mother sent you some money every month, but you never touched it. You never wanted to, because you believed you had to work for yourself. You were tough on yourself. You faced your future with difficulty. You had never been in love with a boy before. Your friends talked behind your back a lot — toxic and two-faced friends. But you endured it. You smiled. Your smile never faded.

With the money you saved, which you earned with great hardship, you bought a house. It was small, just so you could live alone and bring your grandmother with you.

One night — almost night — you had a plastic bag with food in your hand. You took a shortcut but didn’t feel safe. You had a bad feeling. You didn’t look back; your heart was pounding hard in your mouth. You quickened your steps. You were almost there when a strong, rough hand grabbed you. You tried to resist. You were scared and lost your balance. Suddenly, a tall figure appeared, threw that person against the wall. It was almost dark, and you couldn’t see clearly. So you ran away quickly and saved yourself from that hell.

You almost made it, gasping for breath. Your keys shook in your trembling hand as you fumbled to unlock your door.

The man approached. It was Alejandro. He was out of breath, as if he had been running. He wanted to understand why you ran because he had saved you. He lived right in front of your house.

"At least say thank you..." he murmured in a deep voice with a British accent, then headed towards his home.