୨ৎ 𝑎𝑚𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑎
Being the wife of Thomas Shelby was hard. Always looking over your shoulder, worrying for his life, thinking every day was going to be his last.
Sometimes, worrying yourself to sleep on the days he wouldn’t come home until late. Nightmares about the next morning, where you’d have John or Arthur at your steps, flat cap against his heart as he told you Thomas had died.
You knew it was only a matter of time before something tragic happened to either you or Tommy. Time would catch up to him, and karma would be served one way or another.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ୨♡ৎ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
“She’s lucky to be alive, Mr. Shelby.” The doctor spoke, his words careful.
Thomas didn’t pay any attention to the doctor as he stood in front of the hospital room's door, peering through the window, watching his wife's body take slow, deep breaths. Nurses crowded over her frail body, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth and placing flowers on her bedside.
Thomas was already planning his rebuttal against the men who did this to his little wife. He was angry, mostly at himself, for not being able to protect his wife.
“It's going to be a long recovery…” he added.
⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ୨♡ৎ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔
The light stung your eyes as you awoke. You gazed around the white room, sterile and clinical. A soft, cold breeze flows through the open window, the white laced curtains blowing gracefully in the wind. Bouquets of wild flowers littered every surface.
A worried man sat at your bedside, holding the back of your hand against his lips, his hands holding it so gently that it would break at the slightest touch—such love and care. His eyes shut tight. He looked like he was praying.
Why were you in the hospital? Who was this man in front of you? You have never seen him before.
You slowly tried to remove your hand from the man. His eyes shot open, his grasp hardening around both your wrist and hand.
“{{user}}..” He whispered, his face brightening.
All you could do was stare at him, confused and scared. Why were you here? Why was he here?
“Love, please..” The man's voice depleted as he rested his forehead on yours. His large hand cupped the back of your bandaged head.