**A Wave of Nausea**
Prompt: Simon yates wakes up feeling sick and trying to battle a wave of nausea. By the time he realises he is going th be sick it is to late. He barly manages to lean over the side of the bed before he trows up. The sound woke up his wife emily who comforts him as he pukes again. Simon is filled with shame and guilt about making a mess, he feels like a burden. Emily takes care of him al day, but after dinner it go’s wrong again. Simon makes it to the sink just in time and emily is there for him.
Simon Yates woke up feeling like he had been tossed into a storm. The sheets stuck to his clammy skin and the room spun softly around him, blurred images of the familiar shadows cast by the early morning light. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep, but the pit in his stomach only grew deeper. A wave of nausea crashed over him, rising like a tide that threatened to pull him under.
He rolled slowly onto his side, hoping that changing positions would settle his insides. Simon inhaled deeply, desperate for a whiff of fresh air, but all he could smell was the faint scent of the spicy curry they had enjoyed the night before. His stomach revolted at the thought, churning violently as he fought against the overwhelming urge to be sick. It was a battle he wasn’t sure he could win.
As he sat up, his head swam again, and he could feel the room sway. Panic crept in as he registered that something was terribly wrong. He shot up from the bed, the sheets falling away from him, and stumbled towards the edge. He could barely keep focus, mind racing, thoughts swirling like confetti in a storm. Leaning over the side of the bed, he barely had time to brace himself before his body betrayed him.
He could feel it happening, the surge from his core rushing up, and before he could form words to call for Emily, it erupted forth. The sound echoed in the quiet room, a guttural retching that made him cringe, embarrassment flooding through him like ice water. Simon barely managed to steady himself, and his mortification deepened as the mess painted the floor. The sensations were overwhelming; he felt dizzy, powerless, as if he had lost control of his own body.
“Simon?” The gentle voice broke through the fog, and a moment later, Emily rushed into the room. Her expression shifted from sleepiness to concern, and that only made him feel worse. The guilt settled heavily in the pit of his stomach as he looked up at her, cheeks flushed with shame, clenching the edge of the bed. “Oh, honey…”
“I— I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his other hand gripping the bed frame tightly; the physical support grounding him against the nausea that still threatened to consume him.
“Don’t apologize. Just focus on breathing, okay?” she soothed, kneeling beside him, her hand brushing his hair back from his forehead. Her touch was cool and comforting, a tender gesture that temporarily eased the weight of guilt he carried.
Simon nodded, but the shame lingered. He felt like a burden—an inconvenient weight that she had to shoulder. “I didn’t mean to… I should have been more careful.”
“Let’s not do this right now,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto his. “What you need is for me to take care of you.”
Emily did just that. She filled a glass with cold water and fetched a damp cloth for his forehead, while Simon tried to regain his composure. The nausea ebbed and flowed, but each wave sent tendrils of panic racing through him. He was grateful for her presence, her patient reassurance as she guided him back to some semblance of calm. They spent the morning together; she made him toast and ginger tea, coaxing small bites into him, reminding him to take it slow.
But as afternoon turned to evening, darkness creeping across the sky, Simon felt the nausea returning with a vengeance. After an uneventful day filled with much-needed rest and tender care, it hit him again—a bitter swell that clawed at his throat and twisted in his stomach with a ferocity he hadn’t expected.
The aroma of their dinner wafted through the air, settling deeply within him like a stone. With urgency, he pushed himself away from the sofa, his body protesting with each step. He glanced at Emily, who was clearing the table, and the look on her face shifted from relaxation to instinctual alarm. “Simon?”
“I— I need to—” he gasped, rushing towards the kitchen. The sink loomed ahead like a beacon, and he wondered if he could make it in time. He could feel the familiar pressure, the realization hitting him that he wouldn’t hold it back.
The moment he reached the sink, the world tilted again. Clutching the edge, he lost the fight; he threw up, the contents of his stomach pouring forth violently. It was a fury of regret—a chaotic feeling that left him trembling.
“Simon!” Emily’s voice held both worry and empathy as she rushed to his side, wrapping a comforting arm around him. “I’m here.”
He felt ashamed, soaked in misery—so embarrassed that he couldn't keep his body in check. This was not the man he wanted to be; he didn’t want to be a bother, a patient. He wanted to be strong and reliable. But the force of Emily’s embrace grounded him, her care wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
“I—I can’t believe I could—”
“Shh, I know. Just let it out. You’re not a burden. You’re my husband, and I want to help you,” she murmured, her voice steady as it always was.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped retching, leaving him gasping for air, his body trembling as Emily held him. The vulnerability cut deeply, but her presence calmed the storm within.
When the wave receded, he looked at her—at the love and worry written across her face. “I’m sorry I keep putting you through this,” he said, ashamed anew.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. We all get sick. Just focus on getting better,” she stated firmly, her hand resting on his back, soothing him in a way that lifted his burden, if only slightly.
And so it went, the journey through illness, filled with moments of shame and vulnerability intertwined with love and support. In Emily's unwavering presence, Simon began to unravel the feeling of being a burden, realizing that sharing his struggles made their bond stronger. As he leaned on her, accepting care rather than pushing it away, he glimpsed a light at the end of the tunnel—one only made possible by the shared commitment to weather the storm together.
