**A Promise Through Fever**

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 started on his chores. Every movement made him dizzy. Halve way trough his chore list he 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 very angry 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 shivering, a clammy chill wrapping itself tightly around him like a shadow. He could feel the heat radiating from his forehead, and every breath felt like he was dragging himself through a thick fog. Just yesterday, he and Emily had planned their weekend, a calm affair where they would spend quality time together, but as the dawn broke, all that changed. The sickness had come at him like a thief in the night, and now it had stolen the function of his body. As he lay in bed, the weight of his promise echoed in his mind. Emily had a big project to wrap up for work, one that required uninterrupted focus. "Just get the chores done today, Simon," she had asked gently the night before, her eyes glimmering with trust and weariness. The thought of disappointing her sent a wave of energy through his body, though his body faltered under the strain. With effort, he stumbled out of bed, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Each step felt like he was walking on a tightrope, and every movement was accompanied by a dizzy swirl that caught up with him, forcing him to brace against the wall. The house was silent, save for the distant hum of Emily typing away in her home office. Swallowing hard against the nausea squeezing his stomach, Simon moved, resolute, toward the laundry basket that was overflowing with clothes. He had to honor his promise. As he piled up clothes, his head spun. The dizzy spells hit with greater frequency, but the sight of the crumpled and neglected laundry pushed him forward. “Just a couple more minutes,” he muttered to himself, each word a struggle, but the rhythm of work soothed him against the throbbing headache. As he moved through the chores, he could feel the fever weighing him down, inch by inch making the task more painful. Around noon, after what felt like an eternity of folding laundry and washing dishes, Simon hit a wall. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and fatigue clawed at him. He needed a break, a moment to gather the energy to continue. With a heavy heart, he made his way to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, hoping for just a few minutes of respite. Even the act of sitting felt Herculean, and as he closed his eyes, sleep beckoned him to the realms of dreams. It was in this fleeting moment of rest that he suddenly heard Emily's door creak open. Her soft footsteps approached, and in an instant, Simon jolted upright, panic racing through him. He could hear her typing had stopped. He quickly rubbed his eyes and got to his feet, determined not to disappoint her. “Simon?” Her tone was crisp, a mixture of concern and confusion. As she entered the living room, her eyes scanned the room. Simon’s heart sank as he saw the look on her face. The dishes, though started, weren’t fully done, the laundry was only half-folded, and the vacuum lay dormant in the corner. “What’s going on?” “I—I was just taking a quick break,” he stammered, though he knew he sounded weak. He could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and fever. She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing deeper. “A quick break? We talked about this, Simon. You said you’d handle it. I’m swamped in here.” Her voice, though sounding frustrated, was layered with an underlying current of worry. The disappointment in her eyes felt like a knife, twisting in his chest. He couldn't take it any longer. Tears sprang to his eyes, uninvited yet undeniable. “I’m sorry, Emily,” he choked out, the pain of his body mixing with the emotional ache. “I tried. I really did. But I feel so sick… I thought I could push through, but… it’s too much.” Emily’s stern expression softened, her arms falling to her sides as she took in the sight of him. “Simon…” she said softly, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean to…” her voice faltered. She was no longer angry; she looked scared, concerned. “Honestly, I thought I could do this for you—to take the load off,” he half-laughed, half-sobbed, a sound that only brought more tears to the surface. “I didn’t want to let you down.” “Oh, Simon,” she whispered, kneeling next to the couch. She cupped his face in her hands, her palms cool against his feverish skin. “You should have just told me. You’re the one who needs taking care of right now.” Despair turned to comfort as Emily’s presence wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Without hesitation, she helped him recline back on the couch, and she grabbed a cool, damp cloth from the bathroom. As she laid it across his forehead, Simon could feel the tension of the past few hours softening under her care. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, brushing back a few strands of hair that clung to his forehead. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.” “It’s okay,” Simon murmured, his voice hoarse yet grateful. The fever was still there, but the heat felt less suffocating now, washed away by her compassion. She nestled beside him, her body pressing gently against his, providing warmth and reassurance. “Let’s take care of you first,” she said, a tender tone lacing her words. “The chores can wait.” And in that moment, swathed in warmth and care, Simon let himself relax. The promise had shifted—no longer was it a weight upon him, but a bond they both shared. Together, they could shoulder any burden, sickness or not. All he had to do was allow her to love him back.