Chapter 2 Warning of dismissal

The silence that reigned in the salon that morning was as thick as the top coat they used to encapsulate crystals in gel nails. Aitana entered the spa with her head down, her breath bated, as if every step on the polished floor were a provocation to misfortune.

The reception area, always filled with ambient music and laughter in the background, now seemed like a museum of rumors. As soon as she walked through the door, she felt it: the glances, the raised eyebrows, the whispers behind the cups of tea. Even the usual scent of lavender and acetone seemed to judge her.

"Is everything okay?" Lina, her tablemate, asked in a low tone and with an awkward smile.

Aitana pretended to be searching for something among her supplies.

"Yes. I just want to... work."

Lie. She wanted to disappear.

Not even 14 hours had passed since a woman, completely out of her mind, yelled to the entire spa that she had slept with her boyfriend. And even though there was no proof... What more proof did they want than a photo on social media showing Aitana's hands-her nails, her artist's stamp-intertwined with Iker's?

He had uploaded the photo with the caption:

"There are designs that are not forgotten."

And everyone understood. The desperate client. The colleagues. And the worst: the manager.

"Aitana, to the office, please," said Mónica from the frosted-glass hallway.

That "please" lacked a shred of courtesy.

The warning

Mónica was waiting for her with her hands folded on her white desk, not a drop out of place. She wore her classic bun hairstyle and impeccable French manicure, as if elegance were part of her uniform.

"Sit down," she said, without looking her in the eyes. "I don't want to drag this out."

Aitana sat down. Her heart pounded as if glitter was running through her veins, trembling with every unspoken word. "Yesterday was embarrassing," Monica began bluntly. "Not just for you. For all of us. Clients don't come here to watch soap opera scandals."

"I didn't do anything. She came in screaming..."

"And you didn't stop her. You didn't know how to handle the situation. Aitana, you know the type of clientele we deal with. Women with thousands of followers. Brand ambassadors. Influencers. Image is everything here."

Silence. Aitana clenched her hands between her legs.

"I'm not telling you not to fall in love," Monica continued, now with a hint of compassion in her voice. "Just don't bring your personal problems here. This place is your showcase. Your seal of approval. If this happens again... I'll have no choice but to let you go."

The blow didn't come with shouts or threats. It was clean. Precise. Like a poorly filed nail that hurts all day.

" "Understood?"

"Yes..." Aitana murmured.

She left without another word. She walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and looked in the mirror. Her reflection looked at her with disappointment.

"How did we get to this?" she wondered.

She sat down on the toilet lid. Tears began to fall silently, soaking the white apron with her name embroidered in pink.

"So much effort... to end up being 'the other girl' in a story that doesn't even belong to me."

"Why did you post that photo, Iker? For what?"

"To provoke her? To mark me?"

She cried silently until she heard the door open. She cleaned herself up quickly. No weaknesses in front of the team.

Interlude – The spa, after the scandal

Back at her station, she tried to act as if nothing had happened. She put on her pink latex gloves. She put on some background music on her tablet: soft pop, the usual. But the clients noticed her expression, her posture. It wasn't the same Aitana.

"Hey... are you going to be okay for my appointment tomorrow?" a client texted her on WhatsApp, with worried emojis.

Another canceled without explanation.

And that hurt more than the screams from the day before. Her reputation was starting to crack like poorly cured nail polish.

Lina approached her with a coffee.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, okay?"

Aitana nodded, forcing a smile.

"I have to keep going. I have to shine. If I let this get me down... everything I've built will go to hell."

Flashback – The Beginning with Iker

It all started at last year's spring event. One of those local brand shows where makeup, extensions, and nails became high-level art.

Aitana had been invited as an emerging talent. Iker was one of the organizers. He wore a tight black shirt, a killer smile, and the attitude of a Netflix producer. Nothing about him seemed certain... and yet, everything about him seemed addictive.

"Are you the one who does those aurora borealis nails?" he asked, pointing to a sample of multicolored mirror nails on her stand.

"Aurora nails, cat eyes, thermal nails... whatever you want," she replied, smiling, unaware that this man would be the beginning of her emotional turmoil.

"I love the way you work. Do you know that many of my girls might need them for their events?"

"Your girls?"

"I have an agency. Models, hosts, influencers. Sometimes I need someone to prepare them in record time for campaigns."

That's how it started.

With a business conversation. With him recommending clients. With her giving him special discounts. With glances that lasted a little longer than they should.

Until one day, they were alone in the spa after hours.

"Why do you do this?" he asked her as she cleaned her brushes.

"Because it makes me feel useful. Creative. Because with well-cared-for hands, many women dare to do things they wouldn't before."

"And you? What would you dare to do... if you weren't afraid?"

He didn't kiss her that night. But he left her thinking for days.

Present – ​​Return to Her Table

Back in her chair, Aitana tried to focus on the products. She prepared a tray with the new jelly shades, the ones that changed color based on body temperature. The clients loved them because they were like modern mood rings.

She cleaned the tools, disinfected, and organized the test tips. Every gesture, every step, like a ritual to keep from falling apart.

"Today I have a girl from your agency," Lina whispered.

"Iker's?"

"Yes. A new one. She says she wants "dangerous, but sexy nails." Literally."

Aitana closed her eyes.

"All I want is for them not to talk about him. For his name not to appear even once more today."

But that was her world. And he had infiltrated every corner. There was no way around it.