Stavanger Bay I know what they say, I know that they say that no one dies from love

reverie was far calmer, distant since their argument. she was not so desperate nor frenetic, her focus turned almost singularly on blossom.
as lestan had wanted.
and if he was honest even with his very self, he had meant the words: he did not want to carry such weight for anyone, for blossom, for reverie. or confounded him that she would end her life if he left, and that sensation would have plagued lestan had they been childless.
did she want the same of him? to know if she took a final breath, he must also?
the idea of being without her tightened his chest in the beginnings of panic. "of c-course she can stay. we have the space. uhum, we could make her a pallet here," by the door, "or r-really she could choose wherever."
infection. rejection. lestan was so desperately focused on the prospect of hope that this illness, this curse, could be lifted from reverie that he didn't stop one moment to think how awkward it would be to have a new pair of eyes watching how shattered their marriage seemed to be.