7 A.M. in Hell

I Think I've Moved to Hell.That's what ran through Valentina's mind.It was only seven in the morning, and her house felt like an oven. She felt suffocated, fatigued, frustrated, uncomfortable—it was as if summer itself summoned all the most unbearable sensations the moment she woke up.In Switzerland, not every home has air conditioning, and getting one installed would cost thousands of francs due to strict environmental regulations. The common solution? Aluminum blinds. Keeping everything in the dark helped tone down the suffocating heat.

Her body was used to waking up early because of her routine, and now that she was no longer working, she didn't know what to do with herself. Go back to sleep? Take a shower? Go for a walk? Too many options, none appealing.Work had been her only obsession, her only distraction from the monotony of daily life.

Now she felt lost, bored, melancholic—almost empty at times. The mix of doing nothing and being up so early wasn't ideal after eight straight years of nonstop work.

A few minutes later, she remembered she had plans to meet Bastián. They had arranged to meet at Rimini, a fairly well-known bar in the city center. She wasn't used to going out, especially because she never had the time—her life revolved around work.Unfortunately, advertising often meant early mornings, and that had slowly chipped away at her social life.

She felt nervous, happy, excited.Something inside her was telling her to get ready, and that was something she actually liked about herself. She wanted to go. She wanted to see Bastián. She needed to see him.She knew she wouldn't catch anyone else's eye… but she wanted to catch his.

Then came the panic: what should she wear?That lingering sense of doubt returned. That feeling that something just didn't quite fit. Being happy one second, unsure the next. She wanted to see him but also wanted to know why he hadn't mentioned the lawyer.She needed to shake off the anxiety—the subtle, persistent one that whispered maybe she had done something wrong. That maybe he was upset, even though he'd said he wasn't.But Lucas had interrupted them, and Bastián never had the chance to explain.

Around noon, she got a call from Lorenzo.Just seeing his name on her phone filled her with happiness, excitement, and readiness. A rush of energy and hope for the future.The last time they spoke, he had said he'd call when there were updates. And now—there were updates. Big ones.

"Valentina, there's going to be a party at the Barfussbar on the 18th.""Are you inviting me?" she asked."No, of course not. I just called to waste your time because I have nothing better to do."

Lorenzo's sense of humor was a lot like hers: dry, critical, a touch of dark sarcasm, but honest. Even though they hadn't spoken much last time, she could tell he was a kind person—direct, but with good intentions.Valentina was still surprised by Lorenzo's offer. Not much happened in her life lately. Stress or drama only came when there was a project involved. But this was different.

They coordinated for about an hour.The call stretched out, but Lorenzo was thorough and detail-oriented. And that was gold for a producer: details, or as they called it, the good stuff. The more, the better—it meant fewer mistakes.The event was semi-formal, and she had to go with someone. Apparently, this was a yearly gathering of top-level executives from various agencies—a private affair.

The reason Lorenzo wanted Valentina there?To help him present himself to a potential client—without making empty promises.

"I need my producer by my side," he'd said.

She felt curious and important—like she was finally being seen.That production wasn't easy, and that she had the talent to bring great ideas to life. She was grateful Lorenzo had such confidence in her experience, that he could see her potential.Though a part of her wondered—maybe she was getting too old for this?

But she quickly shut that thought down.She wasn't old. She was only 32. She could still conquer the world.

Even though Lorenzo's respect meant a lot, it could also be dangerous. There would be no betas at the party—or maybe just a few, barely a handful.It was an exclusive event for the truly influential people in advertising. The real contacts. The ones connected to the government... and beyond.

Most people don't realize that advertising isn't just about commercials and pretty pictures. It's far more powerful.It can move governments, shape minds—what advertisers call the target audience—and make people want things they don't even need.Through TV, the streets, the supermarket aisles… and now, with social media, even their own phones.

One wrong step at that meeting and Valentina could be blacklisted for life.And that would lead to gossip. Not just about her—but worse—about Lorenzo.If those rumors spread, his future, his ideas, his projects, his dreams… everything would vanish.

Just imagining it made her body tense up, her skin prickle with goosebumps, and her stomach turn.She overthought everything—sometimes to a fault. But that was her armor.Not because she was pessimistic, but because she liked to be prepared for the worst-case scenario—and have a plan to face it.

In the end, she and whatever betas were present would represent what it meant to be a beta—to show that they could fit in with that elite circle.A circle that could recommend you for a job today, promote you to supervisor tomorrow… and maybe even name you creative director at a multinational agency with room to grow.

The world of advertising is filled with carnivorous predators.A fast-paced world where if you don't eat, you get eaten.And she liked to eat—a lot.

As the workday came to an end and the heat finally began to ease, Valentina got ready. She took a long shower, exfoliated, applied her best creams and perfume to all the right spots.

She wore beige linen pants, an olive green blouse of the same fabric with a subtle cut at the chest, and Dr. Martens sandals. Her rings—she couldn't live without them, especially if they were silver or steel.She also wore a silver necklace with a charm shaped like her initial.

They had agreed to meet at 7 p.m.The bar had a chill vibe, with a sort of pool or fountain in the middle where people sat with their beers—or, like most, stood around chatting.A few cushions here and there, some tables scattered around.It was a cool spot, frequented by all ages looking to unwind from the city's chaos.

When she arrived, it was packed—exactly the kind of scene she usually avoided.But she took a deep breath and told herself:

"Ah, screw it."

She barely had five minutes to look around when she locked eyes with Bastián.She instantly felt happy.Just looking at him—and realizing others were looking at him too—filled her with a mix of jealousy and pride, like she was silently telling the world: He's mine.

But the euphoria vanished fast when she saw he wasn't alone.It never crossed her mind that he'd come with others. They never said it would be a group thing. From their messages, she assumed it was just the two of them.

Bastián looked incredibly happy—and incredibly attractive.He was smiling, surrounded by equally cheerful people, singing along to 80s hits blasting through the bar.She didn't know whether to approach.She didn't want to interrupt.She felt like if she stepped in, she'd be intruding on something that wasn't hers to interrupt.She wanted to leave—she felt betrayed.She had truly believed it would be a date—just the two of them, getting to know each other.

And besides… she hated most people. She found them exhausting.But just as she turned to go, someone grabbed her arm.

"Valentina?" said a voice.

"Alex!?" she shouted, overjoyed.

"Girl, you've abandoned me—and now you go to bars without me?"

Alex had been a great coworker.They were about the same age, though he was a little older. Not as tall as Lucas, but not short either. Average height, stocky build, pale skin, light eyes, ash-colored hair.His smile was warm and trustworthy—something about him made you feel at home, like he'd listen to your worst confessions and not judge you for a single word.

Valentina appreciated Alex a lot.He'd been at the agency longer and had guided her when she first joined. They both hated Miguel, had similar music tastes, and avoided the most demanding clients. They were good teammates, supporting each other on the roughest days like old friends.

As they talked animatedly, Valentina wondered why, after all these years, she'd never opened up more to Alex.They had shared good times, sure, but there was always a line neither of them crossed. Maybe because, in an office, you're always careful about what you say—and never talk about what you hear.

Then she remembered why she came.Alex mentioned he'd arrived with a girl he'd been seeing for a while.Valentina knew about her, but this was the first time Alex shared so many details.The way he talked about the relationship and his hopes for the future made her think.

The vibe between the two ex-coworkers was so comfortable it felt like they were back at the office—having their first morning coffee and catching up on the weekend gossip.For a moment, Valentina felt her heart shrink, missing those days.Despite all the stress and pressure, there had been a unique camaraderie—now long gone.

Then she noticed someone watching them.Alex confirmed it with a look.

And that's when she remembered: Bastián!

Just as she was about to say goodbye to Alex and head toward him, Bastián was already standing behind her.

"So, the person I'm seeing didn't come for me… but to flirt with someone else?"