The glass doors of the Navarro Coffee branch swung open with a chime, and Celine stepped inside. The air was heavy with espresso and caramel syrup, the hiss of steaming milk blending with the chatter of customers. It smelled nothing like boardrooms or polished leather—it smelled alive.

For a moment, she stood frozen, clutching the strap of her bag as though it could anchor her. This was no longer the safe bubble of the corporate tower. Here, people came for their caffeine fix, their brief ...