Your heart leaped for joy the moment you saw him — your husband, the father of your daughter, Tommy Shelby — hitching his horse near the front of the camp. You didn’t have to think twice to recognize that tall, sharp silhouette, the way he moved with that calm, calculated precision, the weight of the world seemingly resting on his shoulders. He had been gone for three weeks now.

And you knew it. You felt every single day.

You’d been counting them in silence — one by one, through every sunrise that lacked his presence, every evening you laid in bed with an empty space beside you and your daughter asking when Daddy would come back. You answered with a soft smile each time, even when your chest ached and your hands missed his.

Now, he was finally here.

The moment he dismounted, you noticed it — how exhaustion clung to him like dust. His blue-gray eyes looked heavier, slightly sunken from sleepless nights and long roads. There was a roughness to him, the faint stubble on his jaw, the wear in his coat, the tightness in his jaw that only came when things hadn’t gone as planned.

But then… his gaze found you.

In an instant, the weight he carried seemed to loosen. His entire expression softened. A warmth sparked in his eyes — a kind of relief that only you could bring him. A slow, unmistakable smile spread across his lips, wide and real, and for a second, he looked like the Tommy only you knew — not the feared Shelby brother, not the man drowning in plans and politics, but simply your Tommy.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he began walking toward you, his long coat swaying with each step, eyes locked on yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he blinked. And then, without hesitation, he opened his arms wide — silent but clear in his voice “Come here. I’ve missed you.” He said