The morning begins peacefully. Until your body rebels against you.

You wake up, barely conscious, a strange tug in your stomach, faint at first, then stronger. You ignore it for a moment, turn slightly, but then the nausea hits you suddenly. Intense. Unstoppable. You barely manage to get out of bed.

The floor is cold beneath your feet as you stagger into the bathroom, barely able to breathe before it overwhelms you. Movement behind you. Quick. Awake. Simon is there immediately. No questions, no hesitation.

A hand on the back of your neck, firm, holding you steady while your body struggles against it. He says nothing. Not a single unnecessary word. Just presence. Just control. He waits until it's over, his grip calm, secure, as if he's simply holding you together.

"...since when?" he whispers. You breathe heavily, shake your head slightly. His gaze lingers on you. "This doesn't just happen." No accusation. Statement only.