Chapter 1 How dare you go out with my boyfriend

The ambient music of the Luna spa barely played over the hum of the electric lathes. A sweet scent of almond cream and fresh polish filled the air, while the warm light caressed every perfectly clean corner, every padded booth, every manicure station. It was a Tuesday like any other. Or at least, it seemed that way.

Aitana was finishing sealing the shine on jelly nails in pastel pink tones, with delicate white lines forming miniature butterflies. The style was trending on TikTok, and her clients requested it like a social pass. It was her personal touch. Her signature.

"These nails are literally viral," commented the girl in front of her, a fashion influencer with daily stories and rotating boyfriends. "Nobody does the details like you do, Aitana. What magical fingers you have."

"Thank you, love," Aitana replied with a smile. She kept her voice soft, professional. But inside, the compliment made her float a little. Her world was nails, tiny art, control. She felt safe there.

Until the door exploded.

"How dare you go out with my boyfriend?!"

The scream tore through the air like a knife. Every customer and employee turned in unison. Aitana froze, file raised, heart leaping treacherously.

The woman who had just burst in was a storm of black eyes and pure rage. Tall, with perfectly straight hair, a model's face... but in ruins. Her makeup seemed intact, but her emotions weren't.

"You!" She pointed at her as if invoking a curse. "You're Aitana, aren't you?!"

"Who are you?" Aitana managed to say, her voice lower than she would have liked.

"Don't play dumb!" The woman moved between the manicure stations like a hurricane on wheels. Did you think I wouldn't notice?! He posted a picture of you, with your damn sweet little girl nails!

She shoved her phone in his face. A picture of two hands holding each other. His, with his classic black watch. Hers-his!-with the design he'd just replicated a few minutes ago. His signature. His style. Proof.

Aitana's internal monologue:

It can't be. Why did she post that? I asked her not to. I told her no... God. What did I do? What did I do?

"You slept with him? Tell me now! DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!" the woman screamed, her voice shaking. Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn't make her any less fierce. "I've been with him for four years, four! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

The silence was total. Even the hairdryers seemed to be off.

"I... I didn't know he had a girlfriend." "I swear," Aitana said, her voice now a broken whisper. "He told me he was single."

"Liar! You're a hypocrite! You knew it!" The woman was now crying, making no attempt to hide it. "All chicks like you act so naive. You act so sweet and get into other people's beds!"

"Enough!" one of the receptionists timidly chimed in.

But the woman didn't stop. She leaned over Aitana's desk, barely a couple of inches between their faces.

"You know what? I hope he does to you the same thing he did to me. I hope he breaks your heart and leaves you crying like an idiot in a bathroom stall!" Because that's what he does. That's what he is."

Aitana swallowed hard.

Internal monologue:

I can't breathe. Everyone's looking at me. This is a nightmare. How did I get into this? It was just a date. Just a text. Just a kiss.

The spa manager appeared instantly, walking quickly on her block heels.

"Miss, this is unacceptable. You need to leave right now."

"NO!" the woman yelled, whipping around. "She should leave! Her! That traitor! Steal more of her boyfriends, bitch! Let's see how long you last!"

And before anyone could do anything, she grabbed a bottle of fuchsia nail polish and threw it to the floor. The glass shattered. A scream escaped from among the customers.

"Enough! SECURITY!" the manager yelled.

Two workers from the neighboring gym rushed in and escorted the woman out, still shouting expletives that faded behind the door.

Silence.

Aitana was trembling. The file had fallen from her hand. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to scream, disappear, fall apart. The manager turned to her, her jaw clenched.

"I want to see you in my office when you're done with this client. This can't happen again. It's a formal warning, Aitana. One more, and you're out."

Aitana just nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was a lump.

The client, who still had one hand inside the UV lamp, slowly removed her fingers.

"Wow. That was... intense."

Aitana stood up without a word. She went straight to the bathroom. She closed the door. She leaned against the sink.

And burst into tears.

It wasn't controlled or dignified tears. It was ugly tears, shaky, snotty, angry, and ashamed.

Final monologue:

What am I doing? What am I doing with my life? I just wanted to paint nails. I just wanted to create beauty. And now... now I'm the other one. The idiot.

The manicurist with a broken heart and a tarnished reputation. What do I do now?

She looked in the mirror, her cheeks soaked, her nose red.

"I swear it won't happen again," she whispered.

But something inside her knew that was a broken promise even before she uttered it.