This review may contain spoilers
Loving a Character Who Doesn’t Belong to You...
I started this series for Ayaka — and I stayed because she completely destroyed me in the best and worst way.
Ayaka is one of those characters who doesn’t just exist on screen, she gets under your skin. She is soft, feminine, kind, brave, and unapologetically in love. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to fight for it. As a masc lesbian, she is painfully, dangerously my type — not only in appearance, but in personality. Watching her felt personal. Too personal.
For the first time while watching a GL, I didn’t just enjoy the romance — I felt jealousy. Real jealousy. Not because of drama, but because Ayaka represents the kind of woman I would genuinely fall in love with. Every smile, every small gesture, every moment of vulnerability made my heart ache. I found myself yelling at Hiroko, not because the story was bad, but because Ayaka felt too precious to be hesitated over.
That said, I don’t hate the story — quite the opposite. The series actually portrays queer struggles well: fear, internalized doubt, hesitation, and the courage it takes to finally choose love. Ayaka’s pain, her patience, and her strength felt real. Her friendship with Risa was especially touching — supportive, honest, and full of genuine care. Seeing Ayaka cry over the possibility of losing that bond broke my heart.
Hiroko as a character frustrated me, but I understand what the story was trying to show. Fear doesn’t always look logical. And despite my jealousy, I was still happy that Ayaka got the ending she wanted — love, reassurance, and someone who finally chose her.
This series didn’t just entertain me. It made me realize how deeply I long for a love like that — and how ready I am to fight for it in my own life. Ayaka may be fictional, but the emotions she awakened in me are very real.
Ayaka is one of those characters who doesn’t just exist on screen, she gets under your skin. She is soft, feminine, kind, brave, and unapologetically in love. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to fight for it. As a masc lesbian, she is painfully, dangerously my type — not only in appearance, but in personality. Watching her felt personal. Too personal.
For the first time while watching a GL, I didn’t just enjoy the romance — I felt jealousy. Real jealousy. Not because of drama, but because Ayaka represents the kind of woman I would genuinely fall in love with. Every smile, every small gesture, every moment of vulnerability made my heart ache. I found myself yelling at Hiroko, not because the story was bad, but because Ayaka felt too precious to be hesitated over.
That said, I don’t hate the story — quite the opposite. The series actually portrays queer struggles well: fear, internalized doubt, hesitation, and the courage it takes to finally choose love. Ayaka’s pain, her patience, and her strength felt real. Her friendship with Risa was especially touching — supportive, honest, and full of genuine care. Seeing Ayaka cry over the possibility of losing that bond broke my heart.
Hiroko as a character frustrated me, but I understand what the story was trying to show. Fear doesn’t always look logical. And despite my jealousy, I was still happy that Ayaka got the ending she wanted — love, reassurance, and someone who finally chose her.
This series didn’t just entertain me. It made me realize how deeply I long for a love like that — and how ready I am to fight for it in my own life. Ayaka may be fictional, but the emotions she awakened in me are very real.
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