Chapter Text
Sabine didn’t believe in ghosts.
Not really.
Maybe as a young girl she’d shy away from abandoned buildings and derelict graveyards, but it was natural to be wary of things like that. It didn’t mean they were haunted.
There was no good reason to be wary of her own bakery, though, she thought as she stared up at the ceiling, nestled deep in bed. A gentle glow from the clock at her bedside read the time:
03:21.
She didn’t know what woke her up, but it was quiet, now. Her husband, Tom, snored softly next to her, still deep in sleep. They would have to wake up in a few hours, to start preparing for the day.
This was the third night in a row. The last two, Sabine couldn’t get back to sleep in time, and she was starting to feel the exhaustion behind her eyes. Maybe tonight—
A thump, just down the hall. Not quite a footstep, it echoed again downstairs. Startled, Sabine bolted upright in bed.
“Tom,” she said, tugging at his arm. “Tom!”
“Hmmm-ha?” Tom mumbled, blinking blearily at their clock. “Issat time to get up already-y-y—" His words were lost in a yawn.
“There’s someone in the bakery,” she whispered. “I heard them.”
That got his attention. He snapped awake, tossing aside the blanket and standing up in one fluid motion.
For a brief moment, they both waited with bated breath, but the noise didn’t come again. “Maybe it was Marinette,” Tom suggested, easing himself back against the bed, but not quite getting in.
“At three in the morning?”
“You know how teenagers are.”
“Well, yes, but…” Sabine wasn’t entirely convinced, but her frantic heartbeat slowed, barely. “I should go check it out.”
“Okay, dear,” Tom said, rubbing at his eyes. “Would you like me to come with you?”
Sabine smiled, and shook her head. “Go back to sleep,” she said. “I won’t be long.”
Tom obliged, and was snoring in no time. Sabine slipped out of bed and down the hall. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
A quick peek upstairs. Marinette’s trapdoor was closed, and her room was silent. As normal.
Downstairs to the bakery. No one was there, and Sabine breathed a bit easier. The door was still locked tight, nothing was broken, and everything was in place.
A smattering of crumbs dusted the counter, adding weight to Tom’s theory. Sabine was sure she had cleaned the kitchen before bed, and it was inconsiderate to leave a mess for someone else to find, but her daughter sneaking pastries at night was definitely preferable to a break in.
She grabbed a towel and wiped up the crumbs, feeling much better overall. She would have to have a talk with Marinette about waking up her poor, tired parents in the middle of the night, and a more mischievous part of her had the urge to go have that talk right now, but her more reasonable half won out, and Sabine made her way back to bed, a fond smile ghosting her lips as she passed Marinette’s trapdoor.
Back in her room, Sabine slipped back under the covers, dislodging her husband, who had stolen her pillow.
“You were right, love,” she whispered, and Tom, only half awake, slipped his arm around her and pulled her close.
“I’m glad,” he whispered back, and hugged her a little tighter as the two of them drifted back to sleep.