That afternoon I saw through our window as a red cat ran through the street. It dashed over pavement, avoiding other people, and settled by a newspaper vendor as though he had some reward to give it. I don't like cats, so I usually just don't pay them any mind, but there was something striking about it.

It was a very bright red, this cat, with eyes that followed people.

I may have seen such an unusual cat somewhere before. I don't remember now, but it was definitely on this street.

If there's something I can do to keep cats from coming visiting this spot so often I would do it. They've never given anything but trouble.

That evening we went to bed, and this time I made Kiril to follow me up the stairs—his work was finished, there was no reason to start something up now when the hour was so late.

He didn't say anything except, "To you maybe, everything is finished, but to me…"

"Bedtime."

He laughed at me and murmured, "You sound like a mother."

I poked him in the stomach, "You sound like a child."

He clung to my arm and whined, "Then I'll put up even more of a fight against going to sleep~"

Like that, laughing, I dragged him all the way to the bedroom—and he let go, defeated and ready to sleep like he ought to.

This, too, was artificial. It felt different from the days when we would bicker about going to bed. When Irina was already tucked tightly into her own room and the work table was finally cleared, but he wanted to keep the night going. Tonight, we both knew the outcome already.

Thirty minutes after laying down my head, I was almost already asleep when I felt his warmth go away.

I opened my eyes and Kiril was standing in a blur beside the bed, getting dressed again. "...?"

"Ah-!" He turned to me, clutching a notebook to his chest, and there was an expression on his face I hadn't seen before. A trembling hand reached up to fix his glasses and he smiled at me, "...Well, you found me out."

"What are you doing?" I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, before the black and could claim them alone; sparks of purple run across my tired vision.

"Doing...it's, just a surprise for you two..." The notebook tilted forward in his arms, and he twisted it around in offering to me, still with that startled smile. "If you want to spoil it now, that's your prerogative."

Has Kiril, in our relationship, ever tried to surprise me with something? It was always that requiring approval, giving honesty, and being too nervous to hide a secret that betrayed any surprise for him. He had left his surprises behind since the day we met.

Now there was an open secret in his hands. I yawned; what was this nonsense. "No, just put it down for now and go to bed, please~."

His face relaxed and the glasses came off, "If you say so, beloved."

I pressed my head on the pillow and under the wave of blanket. "The bed's cold so, hurry up."

"Ha ha...I'm just your radiator."

"That's right~."

I don't think, after going to sleep, that Kiril got up again that night. I wouldn't be able to tell, if he was quiet enough and my sleep was deep enough. But the notebook was put away and he was fast asleep when I opened my eyes the next morning. I peeked through it before he woke up, but there were only notes that I didn't quite understand; measurements and ingredients for paint, an inventory of gears.

I made sure to close it before he woke up, of course.