They say without trust, a relationship is as good as dead — and I fully agree.
But what about when you still believe in the good in someone?
What about when you see the change, however small?
What about when their effort doesn’t erase the past, but makes you pause and wonder — maybe… maybe this could still work?

So what do we do with broken trust?

I’ve tried to heal from it. I’ve also tried to survive it. I’ve gone through his phone more times than I want to admit. Found nothing I loved — but everything that made just enough sense to leave me confused instead of angry. That strange in-between space. Not guilty, not innocent. Just human.

Still, if you decide to stay with someone who once broke your trust, it’s a risk and a burden you willingly sign up for.
And once you sign up for it, maybe it’s time to stop looking over your shoulder — and start looking for solutions.

I used to check his location.
Not because I didn’t know where he was — but because I needed proof that he still chose me, even when I wasn’t watching. It became a crutch. A tiny screen I used to soothe a massive ache.

But I don’t want to live like that anymore.
I want to learn to trust.
Not blindly — but bravely.
Not all at once — but one gentle, terrifying step at a time.

Rebuilding trust isn’t romantic.
It’s slow, repetitive, and exhausting.
It requires presence, consistency, and repair.
But I believe it’s possible — just like love after loss, or laughter after grief.
It might take time. It might take him showing up in the moments I used to panic.
It might take new memories that are wonderful enough to outnumber the haunting ones.
But I want to try.

So this is my new mission:
To rebuild trust.
To let him be.
To free myself from the weight of suspicion.
Not for him. For me.

I want to love without surveillance.
I want to breathe without fear.
I want to trust again — even if my hands are still shaking.