METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²

𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓣𝔀𝓸: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓔𝓷𝓭.

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❝ We watched her, watched her spread her wings. ❞

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: misery is a butterfly - blonde redhead

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SOMEWHERE

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Nearly a month had passed since Marianna James left Small Heath. 

Tommy had made attempts to stop her, but it seemed as if she vanished into thin air, leaving behind a void that even the success of his business and the promise of fatherhood couldn't fill. Many people might have aided her escape—Polly, Arthur, Ada, John, and, unmistakably, Diego. These were the people who made it clear that his actions needed to be reckoned with.

Amidst the triumph of his business endeavours and the prospect of impending fatherhood, Tommy Shelby couldn't shake off the feeling of being shackled. Despite outward appearances of accomplishment, a sense of confinement persisted. Yet, being Thomas Shelby, he couldn't help but think that such a feeling was fitting for someone of his stature.

Grace had sorted through her papers, expressing her willingness to stay with Thomas in Birmingham. However, he couldn't take her to the Watery Lane house due to his family's animosity. Without any property of her own, she ended up staying as a lodger in someone else's house.

The house that echoed with emptiness was not an option for bringing Grace; it belonged to Marianna, and Thomas was determined to keep it that way.

As he entered his office, a heavy sigh escaped him.

Lizzie looked up from her typewriter, and her lips pursed in front of her. Michael, seated nearby, also shot a lingering look at Thomas. The foreboding tension surrounding Thomas Shelby was palpable, not just for Lizzie and Michael but for everyone in Birmingham. It was like a dark cloud hanging above his head, and the fear of disturbing it permeated the air.

The office seemed emptier, void of the lively presence that used to fill it. Tommy lounged on his leather chair, reminiscing about the times when the gypsy James woman would greet him with a bright smile or a deep frown. Those expressions, whether cheerful or stern, made him feel complete.

He recalled how she used to sit on his lap or stand behind him, playing with his hair. The proximity, the touch—they were constants in his life, or they used to be, before everything changed, before she was no longer there. The absence of her warmth left the room feeling colder than ever.

Tommy lit a cigarette, the orange glow contrasting with the brooding atmosphere in the room. Leaning on his table, his eyes aimlessly scanned the surface until they caught sight of an envelope.

A pang of anticipation ran through him as he inspected the letter. The familiar handwriting on the envelope sent a shiver down his spine. It was a letter from Mar, a connection to the one person who had slipped through his fingers. Tommy's breath caught in his throat as he hesitated, torn between the desire to know and the fear of what the letter might reveal.