**The Weight of Silence**

Prompt: Simon woke up feeling utterly unwell but hides it from his wife emily because he does not want to be a burden. Besides he had chores to do. Bevore he managed to finnish al his chores emily came back from work and was angry with simon for not having finished the chores yet. Simon cant hold it any longer and tears start rolling down his face as he tries to explain. A wave of nausea washes over him and he bearly made it to the sink on time. he puked wilhe crying. Emily takes care of him

Simon woke up feeling utterly unwell, his body heavy and uncooperative as he lay beneath the quilt. The world outside his window glimmered in the early morning sun, but inside, a leaden fog enveloped him. The thought of Emily scurrying around the kitchen, her cheerful hums echoing from the depths of their bright home, nestled in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to worry her; he didn’t want to be a burden. Swallowing hard, Simon pushed himself up from the bed, the room swirling slightly as he did so. He could feel the dull ache in his joints and the persistent nausea coiling in his stomach, but still, he dragged himself to the bathroom with resolve. “Just get through the chores,” he muttered to himself, splashing cold water on his face. He’d be fine once he got moving. The morning chores awaited—a list that seemed innocuous: vacuum the living room, dust the shelves, take out the trash, and prep dinner. Simple tasks to some, but for Simon, they felt like lifting mountains. As he forced his tired legs to carry him to the living room, each step was heavy, and he clenched his fists to prevent the tremors from betraying him. He pushed through the weariness, turning on the vacuum with a reluctant grunt and starting with the living room. The sound of the machine provided a distraction, drowning out the thoughts of fatigue and sickness swirling in his head. He lost himself in the rhythm, his mind wandering to thoughts of Emily’s smile, the way her laughter danced through the house, lighting up the sometimes mundane fabric of their daily life. Halfway through, the vacuum suddenly became too much; he needed a moment of respite. Dropping it to the side, he leaned against the wall, his vision narrowing. He took a deep breath, hoping the wave of nausea that washed over him would recede. But it lingered, persistent as it spread through his limbs, heavy and suffocating. “Just push through,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head as if that would clear the fog of discomfort clouding his thoughts. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, its warmth a deceptive comfort. He moved to the kitchen—dishes piled high in the sink, a gentle reminder of chores that could not wait. He took one in his hand, feeling the cool porcelain under his fingers, and began washing absentmindedly. When he finally took a pause to wipe his brow, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Panic flared through him. Emily was home earlier than expected. He could still hear the clatter of heels on the floor as she entered the house. The last thing Simon wanted was for her to see him like this—sweaty, pale, and far from the cheerful husband she loved. “Simon? Are you in here?” Emily’s voice, bright and demanding, echoed through the hall. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile he didn’t quite feel. “Yeah, I’m here!” He tried to reply cheerfully, but it came out forced. Steeling himself, he resumed washing the dishes, desperate to finish the tasks before she reached the kitchen. She stepped into the room, her expression shifting from cheerful anticipation to displeasure within moments. “What happened? You were supposed to finish the chores today,” she said, her tone sharper than he’d expected. The disapproval in her eyes pierced through him, and he turned away, afraid she might see the tears pooling in his own. “I—I was just taking care of a few things,” he stammered, trying to catch his breath. The chatter in his mind was growing louder, swirling with the urge to just tell her, to let her know how he felt, but the words wouldn’t come. “You were supposed to clean the living room, Simon! It looks like a tornado hit in here!” She gestured around the kitchen. The disarray was undeniable, and it struck hard against the self-inflicted pressure he had worked so hard to ignore. “This isn’t like you. What’s going on?” His composure cracked. Tears began to spill down his cheeks, and he wiped them away angrily with the back of his hand. “I—I’m sorry,” he choked out, the weight of her expectations crashing down on him like an avalanche. “I just—” His voice faltered as another wave of nausea collided with his resolve. In a barely contained rush, he turned and stumbled towards the sink, the feeling of sickness spinning in his stomach like a cyclone. “I can’t—” he gasped, barely making it in time before he heaved violently. The contents of his stomach erupted into the basin, a bitter mixture of regret and despair mingling with the water and dishes he hadn’t yet finished cleaning. Behind him, Emily’s expression shifted to alarm, her priorities rewritten in an instant. “Simon!” she exclaimed, rushing to his side, dropping the tension of the day. She held his hair back gently, her fingers grazing the heat of his forehead. “Oh, Simon, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?” He leaned weakly against the counter, tears mixing with the sweat on his brow, the echoes of her anger fading into a soft concern. “I didn’t want to be a burden—” he murmured, hardly able to explain through labored breaths. “Since when is being unwell a burden?” she replied, her tone softening. “You’re never a burden to me, Simon. You’re my partner.” She grabbed a dish towel and dampened it with cool water, gently pressing it to his forehead. He felt a small flicker of warmth blossom in the depths of his chest as she cradled him through his pain. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, finally allowing the truth to seep through his defenses. Emily brushed his hair back, her voice steady and comforting. “It’s okay, love. Let’s get you sorted out. You don’t have to handle everything alone.” In her nurturing embrace, he felt a sense of release, and with it, the weight of silence lifted, leaving room for love to mend the cracks between them.