This isn’t the typical drama that I’m drawn towards. In fact, I’m very picky when it comes to my melos. I want them high on realistic emotions, low on unearned sentimentality, and absolutely free of mother-in-law drama. It’s a tough ask. So, when I hit play on Weekday Afternoon Lovers, I expected to sneak a few glances at Lee Sang-yub in a clandestine kiss, and then shut it off in the face of whatever glass-breaking scream-fest might ensue.
But it wasn’t at all the portrayal that I expected. Right from the opening lines, it sets itself up as complicated, poetic, and willing to give its central characters a fair shake. It’s a drama about extramarital affairs, but — shockingly — its leads are not villains. And, to be clear, neither are they heroes. They’re mundane people, in terribly flawed situations, within a story that allows them empathy for not being perfect. It’s a rare find in dramaland — where we’re usually pretty sure who we’re supposed to root for and how we’re supposed to feel when it comes to romance — and that complexity drew me right in. So, if you’re on the lookout for a love story that’s not so clear cut — but still want a dose of escapism — this might be the drama for you.
The basic premise of Weekday Afternoon Lovers is that two married women, who are neighbors, get entangled in secret love affairs, and act as counsel to one another as they do. One of them, Son Ji-eun (Park Ha-sun), is staunchly opposed to the idea of infidelity, until she falls for a married man, Yoon Jung-woo (Lee Sang-yub). The other, Choi Soo-ah (Ye Ji-won), is an avid adulterer — reserving 3-5 PM on weekdays for her frivolous affairs — until she actually falls head-over-heels in love. Her painter paramour is Do Ha-yoon (Jo Dong-hyuk), who drives her crazy with his artsy vision of her.
The setup makes it sound kind of sleazy, but it doesn’t feel that way once you’re inside the story. While the premise would lead us to believe that this is about affairs, it’s really about the obverse: what it feels like to live in an unfulfilling marriage. Rather than justifying or judging the fact that there’s cheating going on, the drama zeros in on the circumstances that pull people away from their partners — long before there’s even anyone else around to have an affair with.
To accomplish this, the script stays in the realm of the emotional, the psychological, and the situational (more than the steamy) and offers the insight that when people walk toward each other, they’re often really in search of themselves. For these characters, passion isn’t just about lust or desire — they want a life that makes them feel alive.
1. The Vibe
Truthfully, the thing that lingers most from this drama is the aesthetic. It’s just a rainy day romance full of pretty sounds and imagery. Warm hues, faded shots, dim lighting, softness around the edges — the visuals create a tone that’s fluttery and inviting. And it’s paced in a way that just made me want to saunter from one episode to the next. Also, it’s full of art — from paintings, to dance, to books — which gives it a whimsical and fairytale-ish feel. To round out the vibe, quiet moments of love are filled with symphony, opera, piano, and rain sounds, which seem designed to lure us in by the hearts (just like the characters).
But it’s got a philosophical bent, too, full of overt symbolism and poetic double entendre. The best examples are the two caged birds in Ji-eun’s house (that belong to her husband), which are named Love and Faith. There’s tons of wordplay when talking about the birds, resulting in phrases that sound like “I love you” (to the wrong person) or have dual meanings (like, “Love has flown away”). There’s also the recurring theme of breaking out of the cage — which doesn’t just apply to the birds, of course.
2. It’s Complicated
In terms of story, what I like about this drama is that no one gets off the hook. Everyone has some level of flirtation, attraction, or affair — which, you might be thinking, is a weird thing to be happy about. But it’s the series of distinct motives for their behavior that adds nuance, showing us how things can fall apart in a marriage in a myriad of ways.
Ji-eun’s perspective is the most developed since she’s the main protagonist, and with her, the drama dives deep into what loneliness looks like — even when you’re sharing a house with someone. There’s dullness and disconnect between her and her husband, as they talk about superficial daily life, and all the important things go unsaid. He ignores her but expects constant attention from her. And she has a sense that she’s dying a slow death, depressed, with nothing to look forward to. It’s been so long since she felt seen, it’s no surprise that she perks up when she meets someone who not only sees her but holds up a mirror so she can see herself.
And her husband, for his part, is flirting (not so innocently) with a woman at his office. He doesn’t want to sleep with his wife, but it’s clear it’s not because he’s unable to — he’s just not that interested in her. Yet, since they’re married, neither of them even considers letting the relationship go. It’s a real conundrum.
At the same time, we get other motives from other characters. Soo-ah is just plain bored. She married into money, has everything she wants, and acts like she deserves to have affairs — until she goes nuts for the handsome painter and realizes the one thing she’s missing is passion. And Jung-woo provides yet another case, with long-time geographical distance between him and his wife. The sad part is not so much that he’s lonely, but that he’s gotten used to life without her and seems to prefer it. The buildup of unhappiness is so profound, it had me rooting for the breakups, even before the love stories started.
3. The Passion (and Pain)
Yes, I’m calling this a love story — because that’s what it is. There’s no love inside the marriages so when we see love blossoming on the screen between our other characters, the contrast makes it stark. The passion is palpable, as well as the pain of it being forbidden. And I ended up liking Soo-ah and Ha-yoon even more than the main couple because both the highs and the lows come across stronger. This is a grown-up drama that’s not solely focused on a first kiss, but on quality time and conversation (and, you know, canoodling).
Inside the romances, there’s art, laughter, food, fun, and local excursions (whether to the woods to talk nerdy about plants or an antique shop to look at beautiful things). There’s also handholding, embraces, delicate glances, and feather-light touch — in short, they really like each other. The depressive tone inside their abodes becomes heavier as we see these people uplifted outside it. And it feels less like wanting what you can’t have, than simply wanting to be happy.
However, passion and pain are two sides of the same coin and none of it is sustainable. Getting found out is painful. But breaking it off is even worse. “When will I ever be able to love someone insanely like this?” Ji-eun asks, as she struggles with her dilemma. All the characters want to do what’s right, but the question becomes “right for whom?” What’s right for themselves isn’t what’s right for everyone involved in the situation. And, even if in the long run leaving the marriage would be better for everybody, it’s still not right according to society. So, how do you decide what’s right?
4. The Central Female Friendship
The friendship that develops between Ji-eun and Soo-ah happens slowly. When the story begins, the two women are on opposite sides of the moral question about what’s right. Ji-eun believes there’s never an excuse for adultery and Soo-ah thinks it’s fine if no emotions are involved. Though they interact as neighbors, there’s a lot of judgment on either side. But both have their worlds knocked off kilter when Jung-woo and Ha-yoon enter the picture. And in that unsettling moment, they come to have compassion for each other.
While we do see a lot of Jung-woo’s perspective, the drama is mostly from the point of view of the women. And this is something I really like about it. We see the wives as the obvious underclass within their own marriages, who give up parts of themselves to prop up their husbands and their relationships. But the drama lets them have human wants and needs (for love, sex, and happiness, for example) — and it gives them respite in each other’s friendship, even when everyone around them tells them they’re wrong or bad.
And that “badness” is also put into question, intentionally or not, when we see the husbands out doing whatever they want short of “having an affair,” from flirting to keeping female company at a club, but it’s all just part and parcel of how the world works. When the women come into their own and act on their own interests, it feels self-empowering, even if that’s not the point.
5. Complex Resolutions
None of the couples turn out how I expected in the end, but it’s more complex than I would have predicted. Part of my miscalculation has to do with a sense of moralizing that the drama tosses around in its last third (which I found unnecessary within the context of the story), but part of it is about how important it is to find yourself — and hold tight to it — not matter what other craziness is happening around you. The end message is about finding hope, resilience, and a way toward a future you want to live — more than about finding the right relationship.
Ultimately, the drama brings up a lot of questions about values (as one would expect in a story about infidelity!), but it doesn’t aim to give anyone the right answer. It’s about the choices we make and who we allow to set our standards. Will you choose stability? Safety? Social repression? Rules? Or will you follow your own path, no matter where it leads? And also, will your values change when you think you’re losing something — even if you ignored it, or didn’t think you loved it before?
Unfortunately, the story does go a little off the deep end in the later episodes (and, much to my dismay, there was no escaping the mother-in-law drama throughout), but I still think the resolutions are complex enough to celebrate. In the end, it’s a meditation on love — with someone else and yourself — and whether or not love is always beautiful. Is it love if it hurts? If it feels brutal? If it flies away? While the drama breaks out of typical tropes, it still hits a lot of cultural cliches. Even so, anyone looking to let a story unfold and see where it takes you should give this one a watch. You might not love where you end up. Or, then again, you might.