**A Battle of Strength and Secrets**

Prompt: Simon yates wakes up sick but he hides it from his wife emily because he does not want to birden her. After simon took the kids to school and when he came back he and emily did some chores. It became harder and harder to hide his illnes from emily. After some chores simon and emily sat on the couch to enjoy some tv when simons body rebelled and he trew up. Emily now realises that he is sick and starts nursing him back to health. Eventualy emily picks up the kids from school and makes diner. After putting the kids to bed simon has to puke again. Emily rubes his back and takes care of him

Simon Yates groaned as he reluctantly dragged himself from the warmth of his bed. The familiar gray light of dawn seeped through the curtains, barely energizing him for the day ahead. He had awakened that morning with a tightness in his chest, his throat feeling like sandpaper. But he couldn't burden Emily, his wife, with worries about his health; she was already juggling work, the kids, and their home. Simon brushed a shaky hand across his forehead, realizing he had a fever, but he pushed the thought aside. He needed to keep it together, if not for himself, then for her. After some deep breaths, Simon quietly shuffled down the hallway, careful not to wake Emily who still lay peacefully asleep. He made a mental checklist of the morning routine: feed the kids, pack their lunches, and drive them to school. The thought of letting them down if he couldn’t manage that filled him with determination. With each passing minute, he could feel the weight of his sickness pressing down harder, but he focused instead on the laughter of his children, Sarah and Ben, as it reverberated through their home. Once the kids were up, he masked his discomfort with smiles and encouragement. "Alright, champ!" he announced to Ben as they prepared to leave. "No fighting over the front seat, okay? Daddy has a surprise for you at school!" The kids chirped enthusiastic agreements, oblivious to the quiet struggle behind Simon’s grin. After dropping them off, he returned home, leaning against the door for a brief moment as dizziness washed over him. Once inside, another wave of fatigue crashed over him, but the chores awaited. Dishes needed washing, laundry had piled up, and the vacuuming couldn’t wait. Emily would be up soon, and he had no intention of letting her see how weak he felt. By the time he reached the living room with an armful of laundry, he could hear Emily stirring. He cursed under his breath, abandoning any notion of resting. As she emerged from the bedroom with her hair tousled and sleep still lingering in her eyes, Simon wiped the sweat from his brow with a sleeve and called out, “Hey, I’m on laundry duty! Why don’t you start on the dishes?” “Good morning! You’ve been busy!” Emily replied, her voice vibrant and loving. She cast him an assessing glance, the kind that always seemed able to strip away pretense. Simon quickly looked away, pretending to fix a stray sock that had fallen from the pile. “Yeah, just trying to get a jump on things today!” He threw her a smile that felt more like a grimace, but she seemed to accept it. With each chore, it became increasingly difficult to hide his illness. Bending over the sink felt like a workout, and every time he reached for a dish, nausea gripped his stomach violently. He could feel Emily's gaze on him as he hastened through chores, her pervasive concern building silently. “Simon, you look a bit pale. Are you okay?” she finally asked as they both sank onto the couch after a particularly taxing bout of vacuuming. “Just tired, I guess,” he managed to say, wondering why lying felt so draining. The television flickered to life, a distraction from the heaviness that filled his chest. They watched a light-hearted sitcom while Emily sidled up against him, warm and comforting. Yet somehow, Simon felt colder inside, fighting the urge to curl into himself. But then it hit—a sharp pain that rendered him panic-stricken. He bolted up from the couch, ignoring Emily’s startled eyes. Before he could make it to the bathroom, his body rebelled; he doubled over, losing all semblance of control as he threw up violently. The room spun dangerously as he gasped for breath, his body pouring out all that he’d held at bay. “Simon!” Emily rushed to his side, her eyes wide with concern. In an instant, her nurturing instinct surged forward, enveloping him with warmth. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He wiped his mouth defiantly, wracked with guilt. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could push through.” Emily perched on the edge of the bathtub, her hands steadying him. “You need to take care of yourself. I can handle things here; I promise.” They exchanged a fervent look, and Simon finally felt a weight lifted, even if it came with the consequence of his vulnerability. She offered him water and held his hair back gently, whispering words of comfort as his body expelled its contents. After a time, the worst seemed to have passed. Emily helped him to the couch, tucking a blanket around him. She magically transformed their living area into a haven of care, punctuated by the smell of fresh tea she brewed. “You rest. I’ll pick up the kids and make dinner,” she assured him with a soft resolve in her voice. “I feel terrible for putting this on you,” he whispered, but she merely shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward softly. “Simon, you don’t have to feel guilty. You’re my partner; we share everything.” As she departed for the school, the quiet around him felt both comforting and unfamiliar, filled with echoes of the chaos and love they had woven into their family life. When the children arrived home, Emily kept them entertained, returning to Simon only after she tucked them into bed. In the stillness of the house, Simon thought he was finally alone. But suddenly, another wave of nausea hit him, stronger than before. He didn’t want to alarm anyone, but the exhaustion and illness had conspired against him—he found himself rushing to the bathroom again. This time, he barely made it. Emily quickly followed, kneeling beside him, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Simon, it’s okay. Just let it out,” she murmured, her voice a calm in the tempest of his disorder. With her at his side, he felt a strange sense of relief, knowing that he didn’t have to fight his battles alone anymore. In that moment, amidst the turmoil, he realized that love wasn’t just about strength; sometimes, it was in the gentle act of taking care of one another.