**A Promise Through Pain**

Prompt: Simon woke up sick but he did not let that stop him because he promised his wife emily he would do the chores today so that she can work from home. Every movement made him dizzy. Halve way trough his chore list he naerly fainted and needed 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 realy angry with him. She did not notice that he was sick. Simon could not hold it back anymore. He cried as he tried to explain. The nausea got out of control and simon berely made it to the sink on time he puked wilhe still crying. Emily took care of simon

Simon woke up with a weight on his chest and a throbbing sensation that felt like a marching band was rehearsing in his head. The fresh morning light filtered through the curtains, but it did little to lift his spirits. He rolled over, glancing at the clock and realizing he had overslept. Emily needed him to handle the chores today; she had a big project due and was working from home. Even though nausea gripped him tightly, Simon pushed himself out of bed, determined not to let her down. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he shuffled to the kitchen, each step sending a wave of dizziness coursing through him. The thought of Emily's sacrifice fueled his resolve; she had stood by him through countless late nights and long hours. This was his chance to ease her burden a little, or so he thought. Simon grabbed a glass of water, though the liquid sloshed uncomfortably in his stomach. He took a sip and grimaced but swallowed hard, willing himself to focus on the day ahead. With a list of chores hovering in his mind, Simon tackled his first task: washing the dishes. The accumulation from the night before seemed almost insurmountable, yet he found solace in the simple rinsing and scraping. But with each dish he washed, the world around him began to wobble like a dream that was drifting away. Dizziness crept in, making his head spin. He gripped the edge of the sink for support, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping the feeling would pass. “Just a few more,” he murmured to himself, rallying his strength like a soldier preparing for battle. Somehow, he managed to finish the dishes, and he glanced at the chore list he had scrawled on a scrap of paper. It felt oddly satisfying to check off that first item, even if his hand trembled slightly. Next on the list was vacuuming the living room, and as Simon moved the bulky machine, the noise filled the space, drowning out the thudding in his head. With every sweep, he felt as if he was dragging the weight of the world behind him, each pass more laborious than the last. After half an hour, the living room sparkled, but in the calm aftermath, Simon's body began to rebel against him. He stumbled toward the couch, his vision blurring, and collapsed down onto the cushions, fighting off the oblivion pulling at the edges of his consciousness. Moments later, he heard the soft click of the door opening. Emily was home from her office, and he could hear her excited footsteps as she celebrated making progress on her report. “Simon? Are you done with the chores?” she called, her voice warm yet earnest. He sighed deeply, and the hope of pride began to wash over him. He wanted to be the supportive husband she needed, so he forced himself to push off the couch and stand. But as he rose, the world spun out of control. He gripped the edge of the couch, but his legs buckled beneath him. He barely caught sight of Emily’s face as she stepped into the room, her cheerful expression faltering as she watched him falter. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern knitting her brow as she approached him. In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Simon stammered, “I—I’m almost finished, I just need a little more time.” But with each word, the effort of speaking compounded his dizziness. His vision blurred, and the room began to fade into the distance. “Stop right there!” Emily's voice sharpened, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Are you even taking this seriously? I’m counting on you! You promised!” Tears pricked at Simon's eyes—not from the scolding, but from the overwhelming sense of defeat and physical pain that engulfed him. Unable to hold back, he broke into sobs as he struggled to explain, “I’m sorry, Emily... I’m so sick. I thought I could do it all for you...” Before he could articulate another word, a wave of nausea erupted within him. He staggered toward the sink, but his stomach churned furiously, and he knew he’d never make it. Without another thought, he reached for the trash can by the couch, praying he could make it in time. He barely succeeded, bending over just as he retched, the contents of his breakfast spilling out. “Simon!” The anger melted away from Emily’s voice, replaced with a rush of alarm as she rushed over. She crouched beside him, placing a comforting hand on his back while he cried. “Oh no, why didn’t you tell me you felt so bad?” Through his tears, he managed to gasp, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I wanted to help.” Each sob mixed with the discomfort in his stomach, creating a chorus of exhaustion and guilt. As the wave passed, he slumped back against the couch, his body heavy. Emily looked at him, her eyes filled with worry, no hint of anger remaining. “Oh, Simon,” she replied softly, her hand brushing through his hair. “You’re more important than any chore. I didn’t realize you were feeling this way. Just rest; I’ll take care of everything.” Feeling overwhelmed but grateful, Simon closed his eyes and let the softness of her voice wash over him. His promises to himself and his wife felt like a burden lifting, replaced with the understanding that sometimes, it was okay to be vulnerable. Sometimes, love was about embracing our frailties and knowing we could rely on each other when the world felt too heavy to carry alone.