Isak isn’t mad at Even. In a way, I think he understands what Sonja told him. Even though what Sonja said most likely isn’t true, Isak thinks everything that happened was a side effect of the mania. Isak’s feelings about Even were never fake though. He had fallen in love with Even. I don’t think from his perspective he could blame Even enough to hate him. It’s not as though Even broke up with Isak because he wasn’t interested. Isak has been led to believe that Even never really had feelings to begin with.
Mania comes with many different symptoms and it really can lead people to do things they don’t necessarily want to do. Viewing it from that perspective, Isak probably feels as if he almost forced his feelings onto Even, and Even’s mental illness “created” those feelings back.
Isak doesn’t hate Even and never will. If anything he would blame himself for putting hope into someone and realizing it was all a delusion. Isak thinks he is dealing with a situation of unrequited love, not a break up. It’s hard to hate someone for the sole reason of them not liking you back.
Women age differently than men do. In a man, the left ventricle, the one that pumps red blood into the body gets larger, thicker as it gets older. In a woman, it shrinks. I am now more than a century old. My heart must be just a few karats at this point. There is room there for very little, so what still fits inside means more to me than ever. It means everything. The last 100 years of my immortal life have been a lie. The illusion of control. In truth, I have controlled nothing. I have surrounded myself with fools and flatterers, put my trust in those who could not be trusted. Enemies without. Enemies within. It is time to construct something new. Something durable. With fortifications of iron, stone and steel. I will not be ruled. I will not be managed. My largess betrays me. Those to whom I have given much repay me only with resentment and ingratitude. Security can be found only by looking into oneself. Others only make a mess of things. A woman can only be pushed so far. And I’m right on the edge. Weary of the steady drip, drip of disappointment. I won’t be disappointed again. - The Countess