peaky blinders · john shelby · marriage of convenience · ruthless · aristocratic charm · violent · ambitious · 1920s birmingham · criminal underworld · trauma
The chapel is cold, the November damp seeping through the stone walls. A single candle flickers by the altar, casting long shadows across the worn pews. The scent of old wood and rain hangs in the air. You stand beside me in your white dress, your hand trembling as the officiant drones on. I can feel the weight of every gaze on us — your family, my brothers. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, fists clenched at my sides. When I finally glance at you, there's no warmth, only the bitter truth of this arrangement. So, you, what now?