Sinbound (18+) | ✓

33 | generational trauma

33 | generational trauma

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That love you felt for me all those months ago wasn't as deep as I thought it was.

"I knew it was a bad idea to go," I mumble as Gregory drives me home.

He sighs, "You asked to go."

"I know."

Silence lingers between us, only the soft sound of nightly radio playing filling the void.

"Do you believe him?"

I turn to him with furrowed brows, "Did you hear the whole thing?"

"All of Manhattan did. You guys are quite passionate about each other."

Rolling my eyes with a small smile, I try not to find humor in the situation. It's a somber moment, one that has me slightly regretting my words. As soon as I let it known that I don't trust him anymore, I could see the hurt appear on Matteo's face.

As much as I wanted to reassure him in that moment and tell him that I do, I just can't. I don't trust him. Guess generational wounds really do traumatize till the end.

My grandparents divorced because he kept lying to her, my parents divorced because she kept cheating on him, then they went on to tell lies about each other to me, and now here I am — scared to trust the man I love because of my own issues.

Fucking hell.

"So," Greg continues, "Do you?"

I lean back and close my eyes, "Maybe."

As he pulls into my apartment complex, he turns to me and takes my hand into his in a fatherly manner, "You might hate me for saying this, but -"

"Greg —"

"Just talk to him." He urges, "It'll go a long way, sweetheart."

As much as I want to, this entire situation just makes my heart drop into my stomach. I messed up. But, for some reason, I can't find it in me to bury my pride and hurt and talk it out.

Maybe I just need a couple of days to replay what I said in response to his words and slap myself a bit.

Is it possible to love someone but not trust them?

Gregory parks and pulls a card from within his pocket, "This is where he'll be staying during his time here. You can put it to use or not. Just... talk to him."

With my eyes trained on the piece of paper that Greg places into my hand, I clear my throat, "Why do you care so much?"

"I saw the way he looked at you. It's the same way I used to look at my wife before she passed away. The man loves you, Mo. And I can tell you love him too and, frankly, you deserve happiness, wouldn't you say?"

I blink and cast my gaze to the hem of my dress, my fingers fiddling with the paper, "Good night, Greg."

"Good night, Mo."

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"You saw him tonight?" Cassidy's voice filters through my phone speaker as I remove my dress.

"Yes, I saw him."

"Did he look forlorn, forsaken, lachrymose, abject, depressed?"

I pause, "Are you studying for the SATs 'cause what the fuck?"

I can hear Cassidy roll her eyes, "What? So, a girl can't brush up on her vocabulary?"

I sigh and get back to the topic at hand, "He was pissed, Cass. As much as he tried not to show it, I could tell he was pissed."

My sister gasps, dejectedly, "Why the hell would he be pissed? He's the one that blocked you."

"He said it was his sister that answered the phone."

She hums, "He could've just been saying that to throw you off."

"That's what I thought, but then," I sigh and grab my toothbrush, "The way he said it... it looked like he genuinely didn't know what was happening."

"So, what did you say to him then?"

"That I didn't believe him." With that, I sigh as I think about me digging myself deeper into the hole of overreacting.

Cassidy sighs, "And what did he say?"

"That he'd never lie to me and and for me to believe that he would shows that maybe I didn't love him as much as he thought I did."

Cass groans and I can hear her fall back into her bed, "This all just sounds like a misunderstanding to me, sis. You've told me stories about him, and as far as I know, it doesn't sound like he'd lie to you. I mean, the man was with you for three whole weeks, it's a little hard to believe he'd had a wife on the side. "

"I would've been the side, Cass." I sigh, "Hold on, let me brush my teeth."

When I finish, I hear that Cass has still been ranting to herself, hoping some of her words would get through to me.

"As far as I can tell, Mo, the man loves you. And he's hurt and probably needs to know that you love him too. I mean, you do love him, right?"

Plopping down on my bed with a sigh and a hand on my forehead, "I do."

"Then trust him. It's not true love without trust."

when do y'all think mo will trust him again?

and we can't get too much on my good sis - generational trauma is real and these trust issues she has are a part of that