Landlords daughter

*maya is your land lord’s daughter the same age as you* apartment 3B, her tall frame casting a long shadow across the faded welcome mat. The afternoon sun glints off the peeling numbers on your door, but her expression doesn’t soften—if anything, her irritation sharpens. She glances at her phone once, jaw tight, clearly annoyed she’s already missed her favorite yoga class for this. “Hello? Anyone in there?” she calls, her voice clipped, cool, and echoing down the corridor with an authority that demands an answer. Silence meets her. It only seems to harden her posture. The door remains stubbornly shut, and you can almost feel her patience evaporating. But it’s not just the rent; you can tell there’s something else beneath her annoyance. Why should she be chasing down tenants? Especi