This review may contain spoilers
Somewhere Somehow: A love letter to WLWs
Somewhere Somehow is a A Wonderful Love Letter to WLWs. 👩‍❤️‍👩 It’s a love letter to every girl who’s ever loved another girl quietly, clumsily, but sincerely. It celebrates growth, communication, and the courage to love openly.1. 👩‍🦰 Characters
Pheem’s childhood was shaped by emotional inconsistency, a father who loved her, but was often absent and emotionally unavailable. That lack of warmth left her with a deep-seated fear of abandonment, always afraid that love could disappear at any moment. She grew up seeking reassurance, holding tightly to the people who made her feel seen. Kie became her safe base, her emotional anchor which explains Pheem’s territorial jealousy and tendency to panic at the slightest distance. Psychologically, she represents an insecure-anxious attachment style: loving intensely, but fearing loss just as deeply.
Meanwhile, Kie’s “tight-lipped” nature reflects an avoidant attachment style. She struggles to name or express emotions, often choosing silence or logic as a shield against vulnerability. Confrontation feels unsafe to her, so she withdraws instead. But as she matures, Kie learns that love isn’t maintained through control or restraint, it’s sustained through communication. By adulthood, she begins to express herself more openly, learning that putting emotions into words is an act of courage, not weakness.
What makes their journey so moving is how both arcs evolve alongside Pheem’s father’s redemption. Uncle Poj’s transformation from control to compassion, from authority to apology, provides the emotional closure Pheem needed. His ability to finally acknowledge her pain helps her rewire the same attachment wounds his distance created.
By the time we reach adulthood, both women have healed in different but parallel ways. Pheem no longer loves from fear, and Kie no longer hides behind silence. Their relationship becomes what healthy love should be: honest, secure, and free.
Pock continues to be the unsung hero of this series. ❤️ She’s that friend who stays through the worst of it, the one who grounds the story in something deeper than romance. The way she helped Pheem understand Kie’s sincerity, and how Kie thanked her for all those years of quiet support, was just beautiful. Their friendship reminded me that love isn’t always romantic, sometimes it’s simply choosing to stay. She provided the social stability both Kie and Pheem lack. Her presence literally keeps both of them emotionally stable through breakups and reconciliations.
2. ✍️ Writing & Storytelling
The series perfectly captured each stage of life, the jealousy and awkwardness of school years, the messy communication of university, and the maturity of adulthood. The shrine scene? Adorable. The awkward tension before their first kiss? True to life. Even Pheem’s dad’s redemption was justified, rooted in love, not guilt. Unlike many romantic dramas, SWSH shows feminine emotion not as chaos but as complexity. Kie’s restraint is as valid as Pheem’s intensity. Their conflict resolution emphasizes empathy and accountability, not control. Their relationship, once insecure, becomes securely attached.
3. 🎶Production, Music & Editing
Every episode ran over an hour, yet it never felt long. The pacing was thoughtful, every beat had meaning. The editing truly deserves recognition for how seamlessly it connected their school years to their adult lives, especially, Episodes 9 and 11, stood out for me on how they mirrored the past and present. Like memories resurfacing. I especially loved how they reused the same song from their school days; it instantly brought back all those early emotions. It’s like time didn’t erase their connection, even after seven years apart, that familiar melody made it feel like nothing had really changed between them. I love how they used the OSTs to reflect of them “healing”, it’s like revisiting a memory under safe, new conditions so it becomes integrated instead of painful. The show’s visuals from the comic-style openings to the color grading are great too.
4. 🎬 FayMay’s Acting & Chemistry
Fay and May absolutely carried this series with their emotional range. What impressed me most was how distinctly they portrayed young Kie and Pheem compared to their adult selves, the shift was so convincing. You could see the difference in everything: their smiles, gestures, even their tone of voice. It genuinely felt like watching the same people grow up in real time. Fay and May were made for this. Their chemistry was so natural that you often forgot you were watching a show. The humor, the angst, the comfort, all of it felt alive. That argument & breakup scene scene in Kie’s room and argument in Japan (Episode 10), easily one of their best performances.
5. ✨ Lessons & Themes
Communication, family, friendship, consent, and growth lie at the heart of this series. Kie’s constant respect for Pheem’s boundaries showed what safe, healthy love truly looks like.
Overall: It’s colorful, funny, and unapologetically sapphic. When the credits rolled, it felt like saying goodbye to a part of my younger self, the one who once longed to see this kind of love
So thank you, Somewhere Somehow. For the laughs, the tears, the healing, and the love. This series isn’t just good, it’s a gift. 💖
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This review may contain spoilers
The Loyal Pin, Pure Poetry in Motion
"These kisses might be as faint as the breeze, for they have travelled a long way across the sea, but they are full of love and longing that I have for you in every breath I take." - Princess Anin, episode 7There are some stories that entertain you, and then there are stories that quietly stay with you long after they've ended. The Loyal Pin belongs to the latter. Ironically, I didn't completely appreciate it during my first watch. I watched this alongside Pluto (2024), and at the time, I found myself enjoying Pluto more. I also felt that The Loyal Pin was slower than I expected, and Becky's performance didn't immediately resonate with me. But after finishing it a second time, I can confidently say I completely misjudged this series. This wasn't just a good drama, it was a masterpiece that deserved my patience.
My second watch made me realize how carefully every scene was crafted. Nothing felt unnecessary anymore. Every lingering glance, every silence, every reunion had a purpose. By the final episode, I cried harder than I expected, not because the ending was tragic, but because I had to say goodbye to Anin and Pin after watching them grow together for what felt like a lifetime. Their story spans nearly twenty years, and unlike many GLs that rely on time skips to tell us characters have changed, The Loyal Pin actually allows us to witness that growth. We meet them as children, watch them navigate childhood, adolescence, separation, longing, adulthood, and eventually a love that survives despite everything. That investment made every emotional payoff feel completely earned.
Princess Anilaphat Sawetawarit (Princess Anin) is probably my favorite GL character to date. Becca Armstrong gave one of the most nuanced performances I've seen in Thai GL. Anin is confident without being arrogant, playful without becoming immature, and incredibly determined while still remaining soft. She carries herself with a quiet authority that naturally commands attention. What I admire most about her is her honesty. She never hides from her own feelings. At a time when women, especially royalty were expected to marry for duty, Anin repeatedly declared she would never marry a man. That wasn't just bold; it was revolutionary for someone of her status.. It courage came from knowing exactly who she was and refusing to compromise that.
Becca's performance elevated Anin beyond the script. Her micro-expressions are phenomenal. Whether it was the relief of her face after learning the wedding had been canceled, the vulnerability when she realized Pin wasn't ready to publicly fight for their love, or the quiet joy after receiving Pin's silver ring, Becky communicates entire conversations with the smallest changes in expression. She somehow balances fierce confidence with incredible softness, making Anin feel like a real person rather than an idealized heroine.
Lady Pin, played by Freen, on the other hand, became the character I appreciated so much more during my rewatch. Pin isn't weak: she's trapped. Unlike Anin, she has very little agency. She's a commoner raised by Anin's family, carrying an overwhelming sense of gratitude and obligation toward the people who gave her everything. She isn't simply choosing between love and duty; she's choosing between her own happiness and the family she believes she owes her entire life to. Her character arc beautifully represents those who feel imprisoned by expectations, tradition, or the fear of disappointing the people they love. Watching her slowly find the courage to choose herself became one of the most satisfying journeys in the series.
Freen's performance deserves just as much praise. She portrays restraint better than almost anyone. Her eyes carry SO MUCH emotions that dialogue never needs to explain. The scene where Pin returns to her room after spending the night with Anin and quietly smiles at herself in the mirror remains one of my favorite moments in the entire series. So much tenderness, disbelief, and happiness are conveyed without a single line of dialogue. Her performance constantly reminded me that strength isn't always loud. Sometimes it's choosing to endure, and sometimes it's finally finding the courage to stop enduring.
What impressed me most was the storytelling itself. The Loyal Pin refuses to rush. In an era where many series accelerate romances to maintain audience attention, this drama confidently slows down. It allows longing to exist. It lets silence speak. It trusts the audience enough to sit with the emotions rather than immediately resolving them. Episode 7 perfectly embodies this philosophy. Princess Anin's letters transformed an ordinary long-distance separation into one of the most romantic portrayals of yearning I've ever seen. The sequence where Pin imagines Anin in her bedroom, combined with Anin's narration, felt less like watching television and more like reading poetry come to life. It demonstrated longing with such sincerity that I found myself completely overwhelmed.
The series also deserves immense credit for how it develops its romance from childhood. Many dramas tell us that characters are soulmates. The Loyal Pin actually proves it. Watching Anin discover every small token of Pin's love that had quietly accumulated over the years made me realize how deeply these two had shaped each other's lives. Their relationship wasn't built through dramatic declarations but through countless ordinary moments that gradually became extraordinary. That's why the romance feels so believable. We aren't simply told they love each other, we spend sixteen episodes understanding exactly why.
Visually, this drama is breathtaking. Every frame feels intentional, from the elegant cinematography to the beautiful historical settings and carefully composed shots. The music never overwhelms the emotions but gently carries them forward. The direction understands restraint, allowing emotions to unfold naturally instead of forcing them. After visiting Wawa House (Bangkok, Thailand), the filming location back in May 2026, I appreciated even more how beautifully the production team transformed every space into something timeless.
The supporting cast deserves recognition too. Prik (P'nam) brings warmth and humor without ever feeling like comic relief for the sake of comedy. Prince Anan is the kind of ally every queer story deserves. Lady Aon and Uangfah reminded me that The Loyal Pin isn't only about romance but also about women supporting women in a patriarchal society. Their stories add another emotional layer that makes the world feel complete.
As someone who primarily consumes sapphic media, I honestly don't think I've watched anything quite like The Loyal Pin. There have been countless beautiful heterosexual period romances throughout film and television, but very rarely are lesbian love stories given this same level of care, patience, and artistic devotion. This series allows two women to fall in love through lingering glances, letters, yearning, quiet conversations, and years of unwavering devotion without ever making their relationship feel secondary to the plot. Their love is the story.
More than anything, The Loyal Pin reminded me why representation matters. Not simply because it's a GL, but because it tells a queer love story with the same elegance, scale, and emotional depth that countless classic romances have received for decades. Every frame feels lovingly crafted. Every character feels fully realized. Every emotional beat is earned.
I could honestly write pages more about this series. It's become one of my greatest shows, and one I'll return to again and again. To me, The Loyal Pin is more than one of the best Thai GLs ever made. It's pure poetry.
The Loyal Pin is a timeless love story that could be told a hundred years from now and still move people. It deserves to be remembered not only as an important GL, but as one of the most beautiful romance dramas ever created.
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