The guilt was difficult to measure. Practically impossible.
Adrian had looked after his family, had looked after him in his life. He and Malanda had not even been on good terms when he'd left, and he had been seeking something new, something different, a different life. He wanted to be someone else. It was just that the person he became was someone filled with hate, filled with anger, and he was so frustrated with his situation that he did not even consider the fact that the people in his homeland were not to blame.
"If you'll have me," Pavel nodded, somewhat humbled before the old man.
He paused for a moment, then added in Romanian:
"Imi pare rau, domnule," the younger man said genuinely, his mouth forming a line. "I should not have brought any of this to your home, or to theirs. I cannot forgive him yet, but I hope in time you can forgive me."