This Morning, No One Woke Mai Up for Breakfast

7am, the alarm goes off in Mai's 12-square-meter rented room. She's 20. No knock follows.

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Back home, every morning her mother would knock on her door: "Mai, wake up, breakfast's ready." Some mornings Mai would groan, annoyed at being woken so early, and snap back a few words. She never thought there'd come a day she'd miss that exact knock.

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This morning Mai lies there staring at the ceiling for three minutes after the alarm stops. It's not laziness. The room only has the hum of the air conditioner and motorbikes passing outside — no smell of rice cooking from the kitchen, no sound of her father's morning news, no one calling her name. The silence feels bigger than she expected.

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Mai sits up, boils water, and makes instant noodles for breakfast, alone. No one to remind her, no one waiting. For the first time, she understands: sometimes growing up simply means no one prepares things for you anymore — and you still have to get up on your own.

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"Missing home isn't weakness. It's proof you were loved."

Did anyone wake you up this morning?