She was halfway down the stairs before she realized that Antonin was asleep on the sofa. Yet another night she hadn't heard him come inside from wherever he spent his time. Tempted at first to quietly tiptoe the rest of the way to the kitchen, she put that thought out of her head. If she couldn't sleep, he shouldn't be able to either. Maybe it was petty. She didn't care. Taking care to stomp on the creaky step, her husband was awake before she made it to the bottom of the staircase.