Trolley: Episodes 5-6 Recap & Review | [Insert Brand Name]

Our heroine’s past has caught up with her, but as the mystery of her former life begins to unfold, we discover that the secrets she wishes to keep hidden from her husband bear a striking resemblance to his present political conflict.

 
EPISODES 5-6 WEECAP

Trolley continues to impress me with its impeccable storytelling. It’s rare that I can watch two hours of a drama and still feel completely satiated even though, on paper, very little occurred to progress the plot. This story is all about the rich characters and their interpersonal relationships, and at the juicy center of it all is one of the best marriages I’ve ever seen portrayed on television.

I fully admit that I had my doubts about Hye-joo and Joong-do in the beginning, but each glimpse into their home life provides a new reason to admire their marriage. Instead of looking for signs of trouble, I now find myself living for all the little moments that demonstrate the solidarity of their relationship. Unfortunately, the more I grow to love them as a couple, the more I fear whatever hardships they might have to face.

And Seung-hee showing up on Hye-joo’s doorstep, acting like a vengeful ticking time bomb is downright anxiety inducing, especially since her presence emphasizes the fact that Hye-joo is keeping a secret — something potentially damning to Joong-do’s political career. That said, it’s hard to believe that Hye-joo is the murderer Seung-hee accuses her of being, but it’s undeniable that Seung-hee’s presence — never mind her threats — triggers Hye-joo’s fight-or-flight response. Her anxiety is so palpable that, even over the phone, Joong-do can sense something is wrong with Hye-joo from the tone of her voice. (Again, total marriage goals.)

Thankfully, the drama doesn’t make us wait long for the backstory reveal, and — as many of us already suspected — Seung-ho sexually assaulted Hye-joo. As the flashback plays out, we see the chilling moment he grabs her wrist and realizes he has the strength to overpower her. Thankfully, we are not forced to witness the violent attack that left her bloodied and forever emotionally scared, but the vagueness of not knowing exactly what occurred on that rural road leads to one surprise: Hye-joo didn’t kill Seung-ho in self-defense while trying to fend off his attack.

Instead, he’s very much alive when, in the aftermath of the assault, Yoo-shin begs and bribes Hye-joo to not report her son’s crime to the police. The encounter is especially disconcerting because Yoo-shin never accuses Hye-joo of lying, indicating she’s fully aware that Seung-ho is capable of such a heinous act. Even so, she’s more preoccupied with protecting Seung-ho’s promising future than being concerned by his violent actions. And worse yet, Yoo-shin tries to convince Hye-joo that it’s in her best interest to imagine that she and Seung-ho were briefly in a relationship — as if she should wear her (attempted?) rape as a badge of honor because her attacker was accepted into a prestigious law school. Gross.

Although Hye-joo initially agrees to Yoo-shin’s offer of free college tuition, her decision does not sit well with her, and after being confronted by Seung-ho’s total lack of remorse, she chooses to report Seung-ho to the police. Seung-ho — like the present-day medical student — then commits suicide.

The parallels between Seung-ho and the medical student are glaringly obvious but not so contrived that they aren’t effective storytelling devices. Instead, both cases have been used in tandem to help peel back the layers of our characters, revealing an unspoken unity in their marriage and exploring the complex, often warring emotions that Joong-do and Hye-joo feel as they grapple with the weight of their decisions and their impact on others. Despite all their hardships, like Ji-hoon’s recent death, Joong-do and Hye-joo have remained as solid as ever, and perhaps the only reason they’ve preserved their sanity is due to their aligned ethics and their mutual love and support.

The same cannot be said for Yoo-shin, who still hasn’t recovered from Seung-ho’s suicide. Her house has become a shrine to her deceased prodigal son, and poor misguided Seung-hee — the unfavored surviving child — is her emotional punching bag. Seung-hee naively imagines that her tumultuous relationship with her mother can be miraculously repaired if Hye-joo gets down on her knees and begs Yoo-shin for forgiveness. This is why she coerces Hye-joo into meeting her at a restaurant in Youngsan.

When Hye-joo arrives at the restaurant, she’s surprised to find Joong-do and Ki-young are also present — by pure coincidence. Seung-hee is all smiles and charm in front of Joong-do during the impromptu double date, but her comments are also laced with innuendo and a subtle hostility that seems especially excessive now that we know Hye-joo is not actually hiding a murderous past.

Unsurprisingly, it’s revealed that Seung-hee’s misdirected ire stems from the lies her brother and mother told her. Seung-ho, of course, insisted he was innocent and never touched Hye-joo, but — to give her some credit — Seung-hee hesitates to believe him, once again making me think his violent tendencies were a poorly kept secret. Seung-hee, however, was less distrustful of her mother, who claimed that Hye-joo framed Seung-ho in exchange for tuition money.

It’s hard to say if Yoo-shin was intentionally deceitful or if her lies were a grief-stricken revision of events that she deluded herself into believing. Either way, Seung-hee spent the last twenty years trusting her mother’s words were fact, and she’s insistent that Hye-joo will apologize to her mother — or else. And so, once again, Hye-joo drives to Youngsan, where she waits uncomfortably with Seung-hee for Yoo-shin to return home.

Meanwhile, Joong-do asks Woo-jae to look into Hye-joo’s history with Seung-hee because — Husband of the Year alert! — he could sense that Hye-joo was uncomfortable during their dinner with Seung-hee and Ki-young. Joong-do’s never been overly curious about his wife’s past, having sensed that she has some uncomfortable memories she’d rather not discuss, but his protective instincts have kicked in. As a husband — not an assemblyman — he wants to know what he’s up against, and so Woo-jae — armed with some photoshopped images and a lie that he’s Hye-joo’s fiancé — has a sit down with the nun from Hye-joo’s orphanage.

Back at Seung-hee’s house, Hye-joo returns from the restroom to hear a loud crash and the sound of a car alarm outside. When the doorbell begins ringing excessively, both Seung-hee and Hye-joo stare in shock as Joong-do’s face fills the monitor screen. And he is pissssssed.

Not going to lie, those last couple of seconds were an absolute delight because I think it’s safe to say that Joong-do now knows the circumstances of Hye-joo’s assault, and he’s not going to allow Seung-hee to blackmail and bully his wife. Admittedly, I didn’t peg him as the type to cause the potential property damage that the blaring car alarm suggests, but it’s also a bit thrilling — and dare I say sexy? — to see someone so straight-laced get aggressively protective of the woman he loves.

Not to mention, Joong-do and Hye-joo are at their best when they are united and on the same page, so it’s been tough to watch Hye-joo suffer in silence — trying hard to keep her personal life separate from Joong-do’s political career. Like, it damn near broke my heart when she silently admitted to herself that she regretted marrying a politician, even though, in the same thought, she conceded that Joong-do was worth it.

As rough as it was seeing my new favorite couple face uncertainties, their story was extremely engaging this week — to the point that I struggled to get through any scene that didn’t feature one or both of them. Even Yoon-seo’s field trip interaction with Joong-do interested me more than any of the Soo-bin and Yeo-jin scenes, but I’m hoping that will change as we learn more about them.

Soo-bin, in particular, has enough mystery around her that she could turn into a breakout supporting character, but as of right now, I’m growing tired of the slow progression of her backstory and her misplaced surliness. Sure, it’s a protective mechanism and an understandable response to feeling unwelcome in Joong-do and Hye-hoo’s household. But — damn, girl — don’t enter someone’s workshop without their permission just because you’re missing your lip gloss!