The aroma of roasted chicken lingered in the air, but it seemed like even the savoury scent couldn't quite dismiss the tension hanging over the dining room. My husband sat across from me, his usual warmth replaced by a distant look in his eyes as he toyed with his fork, avoiding his mother's gaze.

I could sense his inner conflict, the desire to bridge the gap with his mother battling against some unseen force keeping him at arm's length. It tugged at my heartstrings, seeing him like this.

To break the awkward silence, I cleared my throat and spoke up, hoping to steer the conversation toward safer shores. "So, what...