Who is better? My son or his uncle?

A heavy silence fell over the dinner table as everyone's attention turned to Cathleen and the old man. The question hung in the air like a thick fog, weighing down on the two of them. Cathleen fought the urge to steal a glance at Xavier, knowing that their eyes meeting would reveal her true feelings about the arranged marriage. Instead, she mustered up a smile and reached out to gently cup the old man's face in her hands. The wrinkles and crevices of his weathered skin told a story of a long life lived, but at this moment, all Cathleen could see was the burden she was about to bear for the sake of cutting ties with her family. She looked at the man and said,

"Aren't you so sweet when you're worried? Xavier is a good husband, and I am happy with him." If the man had not been visibly struggling against his illness, she would have mustered up the courage to tell him how deeply unhappy she was. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, like a storm cloud on the verge of bursting. But