The red light blinked on again.

Leke leaned into his mic, his tone lighter than the weight in his eyes.

“So, dealbreakers,” he said, fingers drumming a rhythm on the table between them. “Sometimes you meet someone who’s it. The spark, the chemistry, the whole package. And then boom. Dealbreaker.”

Zara kept her voice even. “And what happens then?”

“You walk away,” he said simply. “Before it eats you alive.”

She shifted in her seat. “Or you work through it. If the connection is worth it.”

His smile tilted, not quite reaching his eyes. “Not everything can be fixed, Zara.”

She glanced at her notes, but the words blurred.

“Sometimes walking away is just running from fear,” she said quietly.

The sound engineer gave them a thumbs-up from behind the glass, silently loving the unexpected live tension.

Leke chuckled, but there was no humour in it.

“Or maybe it’s self-preservation,” he said, voice softer now. “I once thought I could fix something. Someone. And it ended with me watching her walk away when everything fell apart.”

Zara stilled. She hadn’t expected that. Not from him. His voice had dropped, unpolished and raw in a way that didn’t sound rehearsed, didn’t sound like radio.

“She didn’t just leave,” he continued, eyes locked on the mic in front of him. “She left when things got hard. When I needed her the most.”

There was a moment of silence, not the awkward kind, but the kind that presses against your ribs, thick and sharp.

Zara cleared her throat. “That says more about her than you.”

Leke looked up, and for a second, their eyes met. Something unguarded flickered there, something neither of them was ready to name. The usual banter and safe distance weren’t in the room anymore.

Then he smiled again, that familiar, polished curve of his lips pulling the curtain shut.

“Anyway, your turn. Ever had someone break a dealbreaker and you stayed?”

She hesitated. The truth sat too close. Too personal. She didn’t owe him that. Not on air.

“Yes,” she said finally. “And it ended exactly how you’d expect.”

“Messy?”

“Painful.”

Their eyes met again, and this time, neither of them looked away first.

The sound engineer tapped the glass and gestured: time to wrap.

Leke leaned toward the mic, smoothing his voice back into host mode.

“Well, Velora, that’s all for today. Remember, sometimes the people we’re most drawn to are the ones who challenge our rules the most. See you next week.”

The red light clicked off.

Zara gathered her notes quickly, her hands steady, but her breathing wasn’t.

“You okay?” Leke asked, quieter now, almost careful.

She nodded. “We should stick to the topic outlines.”

He smiled faintly. “But then we’d miss the good stuff.”

And somehow, she knew he wasn’t just talking about the podcast.

She paused, holding his gaze for a beat longer than necessary.

“Yeah,” she said. “But the good stuff always costs more.”

Then she turned and walked out of the booth, leaving Leke staring after her, fingers still drumming on the table. Slower now.