“i thought that no one could do better than you?”   a burst of confidence bubbles in her chest at the older woman’s comment. angélique does not remember much of her mother, her childhood memories blur and melt together. her mother passed when she was quite young, so the closest maternal figure in her life was her governess, who was more so an aunt. however, this could not fill the gaping hole in her heart. her knees almost buckle under her weight, her footing unstable. her hands tremble —and not from caffeine, knuckles bloodied and mostly likely bruised.  “oh alright.”