**A Day of Secrets**

Prompt: Simon yates wakes up feeling sick. He hides his sickness from his wife all day long because he promised to take care of the kids and do the chores so emily could enjoy her day off. Later at night after simon put the kids to bed emily comes home, at first she does not notice enything amiss. That is untill simons body could not take it anymore and he throwes up. Emily now nurses him back to heath

Simon Yates woke up feeling a gnawing sickness in the pit of his stomach, a heaviness that made even the morning light seem dull and distant. He turned to look at the clock, its face blinking 7:00 AM in bold, relentless numbers. He breathed deeply, trying to shake off the wave of nausea, but it was no use. Today was supposed to be a special day for Emily. She had taken the day off to unwind, and Simon had promised her a break from the daily grind of parenting and chores. With a sigh, he pushed back the covers, convinced that with sheer will, he could power through. Emily stirred beside him, a sweet expression of tranquility etched onto her face. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, whispering a quiet good morning. The murmur of the children’s voices echoed from the other room as Simon set his feet on the cold floor, trying to anchor himself to the reality of the day ahead. His first task was to prepare breakfast. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon usually brought warmth to his heart, but this time, even the thought of cooking sent a wave of nausea crashing over him. Still, he diligently moved around the kitchen, trying to put on a brave face. As he poured cereal for Daisy and sliced fruit for Noah, he honed his focus, blocking out the creeping illness that threatened to consume him. "Morning, Dad!" Daisy chirped, her voice like a burst of sunshine. Simon smiled at her, feeling guilty for the lie he was about to tell. "Morning, pumpkin. How did you sleep?" "Super good! Can we go to the park today?" she asked eagerly, her bright eyes sparkling with excitement. "Of course! After breakfast, we'll head right out." His voice was steady, convincing even himself that he could handle the day’s plans. Noah, still in pajamas, joined his sister at the table and Gregaton fined his focus on pouring juice. As the morning passed, Simon felt the weight on his stomach grow heavier even as he forced himself to engage with the children. They played together, their laughter filling the house, while Simon expertly masked his discomfort with a smile here and a playful jab there. He helped them build a fort in the living room, feigning enthusiasm although the effort drained his energy like a punctured balloon. Once the fort was complete, they transitioned to a quick outing at the park. Simon pushed himself to keep up with the children as they ran from slide to swing, their laughter a soundtrack to his façade. With every movement, he could feel his body protesting, but he swallowed hard, clutching onto small victories—Daisy's giggle, Noah's triumphant shout as he slid down the slide. Back home, the chores awaited him. Emily had given him a detailed list the night before: laundry, vacuuming, and some light tidying. He alternated between getting the kids their snacks and dodging the waves of nausea that lurked treacherously close with each chore he completed. At one point, he crouched down to pick up toys scattered across the living room floor and had to close his eyes, steadying himself against the couch, praying the sick feeling would pass. By the time dinner rolled around, Simon felt like a ghost of himself. The children were delighted as they enjoyed their meal, their chatter filling the space. He served them spaghetti, a family favorite, trying to chase away his symptoms by relating to their glee. “Isn’t Mom the best for making this the other night?” he asked, watching their eyes light up. "Yeah! We should ask her to make it again!" Noah exclaimed, icing their dessert with the smile that melted Simon’s heart. Simon nodded. "Definitely. Maybe tomorrow night?" He felt a hollow pang of regret; tomorrow, he should be better. Finally, as the clock neared 9:00 PM, Simon managed to get the children to bed, tucking them in with stories and warm goodnight kisses. He lingered at the door, his heart swelling with love and pride. Once the door was closed, however, he collapsed against the wall, feeling the world spin around him. Each pulse of his heart sent a fresh wave of dizziness coursing through his veins. Emily returned home just as he was pushing himself off the wall. She stepped inside, her bright smile lighting up the corridor. “Did everything go okay?” she asked, dropping her bag on the floor as she stepped toward him, her exhaustion replaced by a warm glow. “Yeah, all smooth sailing,” Simon lied, though the fatigue was evident in his eyes. She reached out, her hand brushing the back of his neck, and he flinched. “You look… tired.” “I’m fine. Just caught up with the kids today, that’s all,” he insisted, but his body had other plans. The walls around him began to pull closer as the last thread of control snapped. Without warning, Simon turned away from her, feeling the acidic bile rising in his throat, and then he was doubled over, retching uncontrollably. Emily’s expression shifted from concern to alarm as she rushed to his side, pulling his hair back from his face. “Oh, Simon!” she gasped, her hand gently rubbing his back. “What happened? I thought you were okay!” The wave of sickness passed, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Guilt flooded him as he looked up at her, helpless and weak. "I didn’t want to ruin your day off." "Oh, Simon," she whispered, her voice a mix of tenderness and reproach. “You should have told me! I’m here to help you, to be with you. I hate seeing you like this.” As she helped him to the couch, he felt her warmth envelop him, an embrace that eased more than just his body—it soothed his spirit. She vanished into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a cloth for his forehead. She sat beside him, never leaving his side, talking to him softly as he sipped and tried to regain his composure. “I’m sorry,” Simon murmured, feeling the guilt still knotting in his stomach. “I wanted to take care of everything so you could enjoy your day.” Emily smiled gently, her eyes softening with understanding. “You’re taking care of me by letting me be here for you—we’re in this together, remember?” As Simon rested against her, he felt the comfort of her presence absorbing the remnants of his weariness. In the quiet of their home, with the children asleep and his wife by his side, he realized that sometimes, strength came not from hiding your struggles, but in allowing someone you love to stand by you while you fought against them.