The tension was high, as my mother looked at me in a weird look.

"Mother, I have told you countless times that she isn't ready. What did you expect me to do, force her?" I said.

"She said she is still young and beautiful, and she doesn't want to spoil her shape for me," I added, rushing my glass of juice in frustration.

"Just hear yourself; what is the meaning of what you are saying? Has she gone mad? And why would you accept that kind of rubbish?" she asked, hitting the table with anger.

I sighed, feeling a headache coming on. This was not the first time my mother...