March, 1922

You and Thomas Shelby had loved each other before the world broke.

From 1915 to 1919, you were young, reckless, invincible. You made promises in dark alleys and kissed as if time itself could never touch you. But the war changed everything. When Thomas came back, he was no longer the same man… and you were no longer the same girl.

You tried to stay. You tried to save him. You tried to love for both of you.

But pain was stronger than love.

Rumors began to spread long glances toward a barmaid, nights he never explained, silences that weighed more than any betrayal. And you, tired of waiting for a man who no longer knew how to come home, walked away.

You found someone else.

A simple man. Grease-stained hands. Gentle words. He fixed cars, smiled without malice, and looked at you as if you were something he never wanted to lose. He asked you to be his girlfriend… and you said yes.

You cared for him. But you did not love him.

Because your heart even while pretending to beat for someone else still whispered the name Thomas Shelby in silence. You knew he missed you too. You knew it without needing to be told. But some choices, once made, no longer allowed you to turn back.

Or so you believed.

A month later, you walked into The Garrison just to have a drink before going home.

You were not looking for memories. You were not looking for ghosts.

But when you sat at the bar, the air changed.

Someone took the seat beside you.

His scent whiskey, tobacco, gunpowder and something dangerously familiar reached you before his voice did. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“I’ll pay” Thomas said.

And when you finally looked at him, you understood that the past had not finished with you.

It had only been waiting.