**A Promise on a Tipping Scale**

Prompt: Simon woke up sick with a high fever but pushed through it because he promised his wife emily he would do the chores today so that she can work from home. He skipped breakfast as he was not hungry anyway and started on his chores. Every movement made him dizzy. Halve way trough his chores he took a quick break on the couch as he tried not to fall asleep. It was then that he heard emily come in from her home office. He quickly tried to get back to the chores as to not dissapoint her but he failt. Emily got quite upset with him when she saw not everything was finished. Simon could not hold it back anymore. He cried as he tried to explain. Emily apollegised and took care of simon

Simon woke up with the sun filtering weakly through the curtains, its warm rays juxtaposed with the chill that coursed through his body. He groaned, rolling over to check the clock—7:00 AM. Groggy and disoriented, he vaguely remembered promising Emily, his wife, that he would take care of the chores today so she could work uninterrupted from home. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the floor colder than usual against his bare feet. Rubbing his temples, he could feel the onset of a headache. Standing seemed like an exercise in futility as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He shook his head, trying to dispel the haze clouding his mind. Skipping breakfast was an easy decision; the thought of food only added to his nausea. Instead, he pushed himself toward the kitchen, swaying slightly as he walked. The pile of dishes in the sink towered like a mountain, gleaming menacingly up at him. Simon braced himself against the countertop, gripping the edge tightly until the dizziness eased. He filled the sink with hot water and soap and began the painstaking process of scrubbing each plate, each sound reverberating through his aching head. Every movement sapped his strength, and not long after, he had to stop and lean against the fridge, panting lightly. The room spun in and out of focus, but the thought of disappointing Emily pushed him forward. He couldn't let her down; he wouldn’t. After what felt like an eternity, Simon made it through the dishes and moved on to the vacuuming. As he pushed the heavy machine across the floor, he imagined the stream of productivity he was creating for her. Little did he know that the steam rising from his body was more than just the remnants of a hot shower. Halfway through the vacuuming, a wave of weakness crashed over him. He stumbled away from the machine, dragging himself to the couch, where he collapsed. The plush fabric was a welcome relief against his aching body. He tried to rest, letting his heavy eyelids droop shut; sleep engulfed him before he could protest. A noise stirred him awake—a soft click of a door opening. It was Emily, stretching her arms above her head as she exited her home office. Simon's heart sank. He shot up from the couch, adrenaline kicking in as guilt coursed through him. He had promised he would do the chores, and already, he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “Hey Simon!” she called cheerfully, her smile brightening the room. “Hey, Em,” he replied, forcing a weak grin as he tried to straighten himself out, fighting the urge to lean against the wall for support. With a rustling of her papers, she moved toward the living room, and Simon scrambled to pick up the half-finished chores scattered around him. But it was too late. Emily's gaze fell upon the still-dusty coffee table and the unvacuumed corner of the living room. Her smile faltered, confusion washing over her face. “Simon, are you okay? You look… flushed,” she said, her tone shifting from cheerful to concerned. “I’m fine! Just… just a bit tired,” he stammered, guilt gnawing at him. “I did the dishes and started the vacuuming, but I just needed a quick break.” Emily’s brow furrowed, and disappointment seeped into her voice. “But Simon, this was really important. I can’t work with the house in this state!” The words hit him like icy water. The mix of her disappointment and his physical weakness became too much to bear. Suddenly, hot tears blurred his vision. Simon felt his chest tighten as he tried to explain, “I—I’m so sorry, Emily. I promised I would take care of everything, but I woke up feeling awful. I didn’t think it would be this bad.” Emily took a deep breath, the change in her demeanor palpable as she watched him break down. Her expression softened. “Oh, Simon…” With that, the disappointment in her eyes transformed into concern, and she crossed the room in a flash, wrapping her arms around him. Simon let the tears spill, the pent-up frustration and sickness flowing out in each shaky breath. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I really tried,” he managed between sobs. “I know you did, I’m so sorry for getting upset,” she whispered softly, stroking his hair. “You were sick, and I should’ve seen that. You need to rest.” In an instant, Emily was nurturing rather than reproachful. She helped him back to the couch, her gentle care wrapping around him like a blanket. She put a cool hand on his forehead, her eyes widening with realization as she exclaimed, “You have a fever! You shouldn’t be doing chores at all!” “I didn’t want to let you down,” Simon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You could never let me down for wanting to take care of you,” she replied, squeezing his hand. With a comforting smile, she added, “Let’s tackle the chores together once you’re feeling better.” “Together?” he croaked, the heaviness in his chest lifting slightly. “Of course! I can’t do it all without helping you, either. Now, just close your eyes and relax.” Simon smiled through his pain, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. As he drifted off again, this time into a true, peaceful sleep, he realized that sometimes love meant not only making promises but letting go of them when it mattered most.