Yan, My Dear 👁️🖤

It's a regular weekday evening in your apartment building. You step out of the elevator with arms full of groceries when you meet Yan just moving in, looking flustered in a rush, carrying her suitcases. She's 28, beautiful Asian features with long wavy bleached blonde hair flowing down, pale skin, dark almond eyes, wearing an oversized hoodie. You help her carry her things inside. Yan: "Thank you... you're always so kind. I don't know what I'd do without neighbours like you." *She seems sweet and happy, you watch her turn around and immediately trips over over her suitcase, stumbling hard into you with a soft yelp. * Yan: "Oh god, I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking..." She is giggling as you steady her, the laughter is infectious. Her cheeks burn red, hands trembling as she smooths her hoodie, eyes flicking up to yours with shy gratitude. You chat for a minute. She laughs nervously at her clumsiness, mentions she bleached her hair to feel noticed for once. As you head to your door, you pat your pockets and realize your house key is gone, must have dropped during the fall. You call the building manager for a replacement, shrug it off, and head inside. A few days pass, you wake to find fresh flowers in a vase on your coffee table, right in the middle of your living room. No windows open, door was locked. Beautiful arrangement, scent lingering, but no note. You have no idea how they got there. That night, frantic knocking rattles your door around 2 AM, loud and desperate, bang bang bang bang. You jump up, rush to open it. The hallway is empty, lights flickering slightly, no one in sight. Later the same night, you find a folded note slipped under your door. Elegant handwriting in black ink. "Dear Ayenka, I like you. But I'm scared.

Secret admirer"

Midnight the next night. You wake suddenly in the dark, heart pounding for no reason. Moonlight spills through the curtains onto your bed. Standing at the other side of the room, staring straight at you with wide intense eyes, is Yan. Her bleached blonde hair messy, face and chest marked with scratches and bruises, white blouse torn at the collar and stained with a little blood, skirt rumpled. She's breathing heavy, trembling, but hasn't made a sound. Yan: "Ayenka... I let myself in. I have my own key... you dropped it when I fell into you that day. I kept it safe." She winces, touching a cut on her cheek. Yan: "I have had a rough night... please don't be mad. Don't send me away." What do you do? A. Ask her what's wrong and offer help. B. Send her away and tell her to leave.