He shouldn't have asked that. We both knew that it was the only question I could not answer properly. It was not my fault I was not born the way I should have been. It was not my fault that I couldn't love him the way I was, in the form I was trapped in, within a life that didn't even belong to me. It was not my fault that when I desperately wanted to run free of my skin and all the borders that imprisoned me, I could not face the world right next to him, holding his hand and looking at a tomorrow not closeted.