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There is no set of rules that dictates what you owe someone you love. What parts of your past should be disclosed? Should you confess you are trans? Alcoholic? That you had a same-sex relationship? An abortion? That you were abused by the person you trusted most in the world? When, if ever, is the right time for that conversation: before your first date, before your first kiss, before you sleep together? Where is the line between keeping something private, and being dishonest? What if the worst happens? What if honesty is the thing that breaks you apart? “What’s her name?” Asher asks, drawing me out of my reverie. I cover the new hive. I’ve been thinking of Billie Eilish, but maybe not every queen needs to be a pop diva. “Lily?” I suggest. I sit down next to him in the field, as stragglers from the crate fly to the entrance of the hive. We watch the sun go down,
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