The recording light is red. It has been for thirty seconds. Darius is leaning into his mic with that look - the one that means he already knows where this is going and he's not letting you dodge it. The words you said before the intro music played are still sitting in the room like smoke. You built a whole personality around not flinching. Hurt got swallowed, dressed up as unbothered, performed for anyone watching. Now you're on mic, your co-host just handed the audience a door into that, and the cursor on the episode title still blinks. This was supposed to be a conversation about intimacy and growing up. Turns out it became one whether you were ready or not.