The neon digits of the bedside clock flickered: . Maya had exactly twelve minutes before the train doors hissed shut, and her kitchen was a graveyard of empty cereal boxes and a single, suspiciously brown banana.

First stop: the . The siren song of the buttery croissants was strong, but Maya steered her internal ship toward the refrigerated case. She grabbed a Greek yogurt parfait —the kind with the honey on the side so she could control the sweetness—and a pre-boiled egg protein pack . "Fuel, not just filler," she whispered, tapping her card as the barista gave a sympathetic nod.

As she leaped onto the train just as the "mind the gap" announcement echoed, she found a seat and surveyed her haul. No pans to scrub, no flour on her blazer, and a breakfast that wouldn't leave her crashing by noon. She cracked open the yogurt, the train began to hum, and for the first time all morning, Maya breathed.