Circles · and · Circles · and · Circles · again

So I'm reading a book about life in New Orleans after Katrina. The stories run the gamut from the utterly despondant to hilarious, but with true New Orleansian humour, the author makes you laugh more than he makes you cry. Still . . .

He tells one story of a neighbour of his. She was from New Orleans, but her fiancé was from Atlanta. That's where they fled when the hurricane came. They'd had their wedding planned for the week after Katrina, in New Orleans. Obviously it was cancelled. A few weeks later they were back. He'd wanted to stay in Atlanta with his folks, but she was insistent that they come home. Several times he tried to convince her to leave New Orleans, but it was her home city and she loved it. She wanted to stay. Once he left her after she refused to move to Atlanta, but he came back because he loved her. And then he killed himself.
Can you imagine what that poor girl felt? After the hell of Katrina and its aftermath and losing everything and then her fiancé on top of it all. He stayed because she asked him to and he loved her but he couldn't handle it. She's got to be feeling that his death was her fault . . .