Episode 4 of In Love Forever gave me whiplash, a rage headache, and one fleeting moment of hope — in that order.

Watching this week, my inner monologue was basically a hostage situation with occasional bursts of applause. Let’s unpack.

First, a reluctant standing ovation for our girl Runch, who finally located her spine in the back of a dusty drawer and used it to shield her wife from the character-assassination olympics her mother was hosting live at the dinner table. I literally whispered, “Thank God, she grew a spine.” Then immediately: But will she grow the full set? It’s only Episode 4. Promising to never let anyone hurt your wife is a beautiful, romantic vow — the kind that sounds gorgeous in the rain, set to a slow-motion guitar riff. But this is a Monster-in-Law from Hades we’re talking about, not a mild inconvenience. Runch, I’m watching you. Do those words come with follow-through, or are they just decorative pillows on the couch of your marriage? I need to see you metaphorically grow some balls, not just a spine, because a spine without the fortitude to enforce boundaries is just a fancy posture.

Speaking of which: Monster-in-Law from Hades, a title I do not bestow lightly, what exactly is your damage? Are you allergic to beautiful nepo babies? Did a trust-fund kid steal your lunch money in a past life? Your cruelty isn’t even pragmatic — it’s performance art. You’re so consumed with resenting your daughter-in-law’s wealth and beauty that you’d actively prefer your own daughter to be sad. There are already so many sad people in the world, ma’am. We’re fully stocked. Why are you so determined to manufacture one at home, custom-designed, just because you can’t stand that your daughter-in-law is rich and stunning? It’s selfishness distilled into a venom so pure it could strip paint. You’re not protecting anyone; you’re curating misery. Get a hobby. Try pottery. Therapy, even.

And then we have Runch’s dad, a man whose primary strategy for dealing with his overbearing wife is geographical escape. Sir, you are unable to discipline your wife? Or unwilling? Because there’s a difference, and right now it looks like you’ve abdicated your role as a father to keep your own peace, leaving your daughter to fight a dragon barehanded while you’re off elsewhere, probably polishing your “calm, likeable character” awards. It’s commendable that Runch inherited your good looks, your patience, and that gentle temperament — truly, a genetic jackpot. But here’s the thing: a calm demeanor that only works when you’re absent isn’t peacekeeping, it’s neglect. Grow. Some. Balls. Come home, plant your feet, and fix the family your wife is hell-bent on torching. Your daughter just did the hard thing at dinner. Now it’s your turn. Don’t let her bravery be a solo act.

In conclusion, Episode 4 was a telenovela-level cocktail of catharsis and fury. I’m cautiously cradling that tiny spark of hope Runch ignited, fully aware it could either become a bonfire or get stomped out by episode 6. Fingers crossed the show gives the Monster-in-Law a redemption arc — or at least a very loud, very firm “no” that sticks.