London,

October 1923

Within the intricate web of London's narrow alleys and closely nestled structures, the cool, damp breath of dawn lingered. Cobblestone streets, gleaming softly from a recent rain, held the soft echoes of awakening footsteps, as the city began to stir from its slumber.

Deep within this ambiance, in one particular dwelling, an unmade bed claimed its space, standing as a testament to the night that had passed. Its sheets were tangled and disheveled, cradling two individuals who lay apart, each immersed in their own private dreams.

As dawn's embrace seeped through the curtains, Liam began to emerge from the depths of slumber, drawn back to reality by the rhythmic ticking of a clock nearby. The weight of sleep pulled at him, making the room feel both familiar and foreign. Shifting within the bed, he rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the foggy remnants of sleep and the lingering disorientation.

Then, like a distant whisper breaking through the haze, a memory surged to the forefront of his mind. He had gone drinking the night before, a decision that now seemed to be making its presence known in the pounding of his head.

Fragments of recollection began to take shape: he had ended up at Evelyn Miller's place – a familiar face from his youth, once a close friend. But now, as his eyes scanned the room, taking in the subtle signs of intimacy, a realization gripped him: their once pure connection was now muddled by the implications of a single passionate night.

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The soft ticking that had once been a gentle background noise suddenly grew louder and more insistent, jolting Liam from his reverie. With a groggy motion, he reached towards the sound on the bedside table, his fingers coming into contact with the cool metal of his pocket watch.

As his deep blue eyes locked onto the watch's face, a rush of dread swept over him. Memories of his morning responsibilities flooded his mind, and a quick glance at the ticking hands brought forth an unsettling realization – he was notably behind schedule.

Liam cursed under his breath, rising swiftly from the bed, careful not to disturb Evelyn's slumber. He dressed in a hurry, stealing a glance at his reflection and noticing the tousled state of his chestnut locks. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to restore a semblance of order.

As Liam made his final preparations to leave, his gaze settled briefly upon Evelyn, who lay enveloped in a peaceful sleep. It had never been his intention to seek solace in transient encounters, least of all with someone he had once regarded as a close friend. Nevertheless, the undeniable recurrence of such moments had woven itself into the fabric of his life.

Liam recognized the questionable nature of his actions, fully aware that Evelyn might take offense. Yet, with the swirling rumors surrounding her newfound role as a barmaid and the assumptions that accompanied it, he couldn't predict her reaction. He no longer knew Evelyn the way he used to. So, in a bid to preempt any potential misunderstandings about his intentions, he opted to leave some money on the nightstand. He hoped this gesture would convey his gratitude for the night they had shared while subtly indicating that he had no intentions of pursuing anything more serious.

With a sense of detachment, Liam hastily adjusted his cap and quietly slipped out of the room. However, as he left, an unwelcome and unexpected pang of reluctance tugged at his chest. A lingering question arose in his mind: Would he ever cross paths with Evelyn again? He quickly pushed the thought aside, determined to steel himself against any sentimental longing. With a resolute shake of his head, he left the night's memories behind and redirected his attention to the pressing duties that awaited him that morning.