Bad didn't adequately describe the situation Sanria now found herself in. Bad was before - moments before - Colin simply trying to remind her of his love for her, trying to get her back. Bad had morphed into something akin to unbearable, uncomfortable, and blood-draining. Colin had now figured out Kaliadra's ruse, and because he was in such close proximity, made no qualms about coming to talk. Sanria had hoped it would be to say goodbye, or at the very least, give her space to breathe. Instead, it turned into her raising her voice, growing increasingly flustered and impatient.
She had said all she could say. She reminded him of Gilean's feelings, of Matinus, of Nioma, of her unborn. She reminded him of how she loved them and how going back to him would break that asunder. It would tear apart what little she had. Then: "I don't know how to let you go, Sanria."
"Can you? Eventually? Given time?"
"I can't. I don't want to."
From this answer, Sanria learned that it was never truly the black makou that drove Colin to madness when it came to her. It was his own heart. Knowing everything -all the ugliness that her leaving Gilean would cause, the pain for the children, the pain for Gilean - Colin had given his honest admission. He wanted her in his life and though he was the most family oriented man she'd ever met - he was willing to break a family to get his own back. To get her back.
The drive left her and Sanria lost the will to fight. She knew him, knew the relentless determination, knew Colin wouldn't stop. She agreed to leave Gilean, to rip apart what little they had built while Colin had forgotten everything. It didn't make her happy. It wasn't a conclusion that brought her joy. After Colin left, she wretched into a plant pot and sat sobbing on the floor.
She had wanted at last to do something right. She had tried hard to make things work between herself and Gilean, and just when she had set her course, it was pulled away. The guilt was excruciating, but she'd have to bear it. Or so she thought. She had assumed that the mild-mannered pacifist she'd married would accept defeat and let go easily. That is, however, when unbearable, uncomfortable, and blood-draining dipped even lower than she thought it could.
