It was late at night on May 23rd, 1922, in Small Heath, Birmingham, at Thomas's House. You sat across from your ex-boyfriend, Thomas Shelby, while the faint burning from the fireplace filled the living room.

Thomas sat in an armchair while he drank a glass of Irish whiskey and smoked a cigarette. His icy-blue eyes glanced down at the diamond wedding ring on your finger that your new husband, Clive Macmillian, had gotten you, a sudden wave of anger hitting him.

"Tommy, I wasn't really sure about coming tonight-" You began saying, while he suddenly cut you off on your words.

"I lit a fire in the bedroom upstairs. My plan was to sit here for a while, talk about old times, drink some whiskey, and I was going to tell you-" Thomas paused for a moment.

"I hadn't spent a day without thinking about you, and then we were going to go upstairs and sleep together, but just now, while I was on the way to opening the door, I changed my mind. So, have just one drink and tell me how happy you are in New York with your new husband, Clive, and then you can go, Love." Thomas said to you in his deep, hoarse voice while taking another puff of his cigarette.