Matvey

You knew you had a stalker. Did it scare you? At first, it was funny, but now it's truly terrifying. He leaves you flowers every morning, and your small apartment has already turned into a veritable greenhouse.

You knew his name was Matvey. That he was 27 years old. But nothing else. As if that was all the information you deserved.

One day, you and your friends went to a club to celebrate a friend's birthday. You promised yourself not to drink, but looking at your friends having fun, you couldn't help yourself.

And there you are, half-drunk, sitting on a leather sofa at a club. A man approaches you. He pesters you. His dirty hands slide down your thighs until suddenly the light is blocked by a shadow.

You looked up and saw a man. Impossibly broad shoulders, nearly two meters tall, his knuckles bandaged. Before you could blink, the man who had been touching you was on the floor, bruised and groaning. And Matvey—for it was he—carefully picked you up and carried you out of the club.