𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐎𝐖𝐒 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Brian O’Conner had always been the kind of man who lived on the edge of two worlds. He loved engines and adrenaline, but he also craved stability—the comfort of coming home to someone who knew him better than anyone else. For a long time, he had that balance.

He met you in high school, when you were both just kids. You knew his crooked grin before the badge, before the street races, before undercover work swallowed him whole. By twenty-three, you’d promised each other forever, sealing the vow with two rings and a kiss. For a while, it felt like forever—quiet mornings tangled in bedsheets, long drives with the windows down, arguments that always ended in laughter because neither of you could stay mad for long.

Then came the Toretto case. Brian was twenty-eight when the LAPD sent him in, chasing a string of transport robberies no one could pin down. His assignment was clear: get close to Dominic Toretto’s crew, connect the dots, close the case. But nothing was simple once he stepped into that world—fast cars, fierce loyalty, and Mia Toretto.

At first, he told himself it was just part of the job, another angle to get closer, another lie to sell. But Mia’s quiet smiles and the way she listened slipped past his defenses. And despite every vow he’d ever made to you, despite knowing better, Brian crossed a line he could never uncross. One night with her shattered everything.

You found out. Of course you did. The moment you did, the life you’d built together collapsed. You filed for divorce without hesitation, but Brian dragged his feet—two years of unsigned papers, as if stalling could undo the betrayal. Eventually, you walked away for good.

Ten years passed. He buried himself in work, clawed his way into the FBI until his name carried weight. But no promotion filled the hollow space where you used to be. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about what he’d lost—not just a wife, but his best friend, the only person who had ever really known him.

When the Bureau sent him back to Los Angeles on a new case, the ghosts came with him. The city smelled the same, sounded the same. And you were here. He knew it before he admitted to himself that he wanted to know more. Curiosity turned into obsession. He told himself it was just to check in, to make sure you were okay. But it was a lie.

He searched until he found where you worked. Then he lied to his boss—said he was chasing a lead—when in truth, he was chasing a ghost.

The bell above the door chimed when he stepped inside. The place was warm, bright, filled with the murmur of voices. Not just a workplace—your place. Pride swelled in him when the clerk at the counter said you weren’t an employee, but the owner. You’d done it. You’d made your dream real.

But when you walked into the room, that pride turned to something heavier. His chest constricted as every feeling he’d buried came rushing back, colliding with the guilt he carried like a second skin.

You froze when you saw him. Color drained from your face, replaced by something sharper—anger, betrayal, the old wound ripped open.

“Can we talk?” Brian asked, his voice careful, almost unsure, like he wasn’t used to asking permission.

You didn’t answer at first, just stared, the silence louder than anything he’d ever heard. Then, wordlessly, you turned and walked toward a back room. Against his better judgment, he followed.

The door shut behind you, muffling the life of the shop. You folded your arms, a wall rising between you.

“What the hell are you doing here, Brian?” Your voice was low, hard.

He shifted, hands shoved deep in his pockets, searching for something solid. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said, his voice rough. “Wanted to see how you’ve been.”