Clara smiled, nodding in agreement as her mother proclaimed. The twenty-five-year-old girl, slender and well-dressed, was helping her mother with the family's lunch, cutting vegetables for the salad. She always found joy in serving others, an attitude born from her devout Catholic upbringing.

"You're absolutely right, mother." Clara replied, a sweet smile on her face. "Our place is here, in the kitchen, caring for our families. It's what we were made to do."

Deborah, a woman in her late fifties, glanced admiringly at her daughter as she continued slicing the vegetables with a practiced hand. "You're such a good girl, Clara." The older woman said, pride in her voice. "You understand what God wants from us, and you embrace your role without question. I've raised you well."

Clara's smile widened at her mother's praise. It was always gratifying to feel that she was living up to their expectations, that she was being God's righteous daughter. She glanced up from her work to meet her mother's gaze. "I always try my best, mother." Deborah's daughter said softly.

"And I know that you and father have taught me well in faith and virtue. It's because of you that I know my place and my duty." Deborah's expression softened as she watched her daughter work. This was her masterpiece, her living embodiment of God's teachings. She approached Clara, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Your father and I, we couldn't be more proud of you, honey. You're a blessing to us all. And one day, when you're married, you'll make a wonderful wife to a very fortunate man."

Clara's cheeks flushed slightly at her mother's words. The idea of marriage and starting a family of her own had been on her mind more frequently of late. Though she was enjoying her university studies and the intellectual stimulation they provided, her heart longed for the traditional life she'd been raised to desire. "Do you really think so, mother?" She asked, her voice quiet yet hopeful. "That I'll make a good wife?"