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Caught between two lovers, feeling all confused.
If Only It Weren’t You is a provocative and emotionally charged drama that walks a fine line between romance and discomfort. At times, its sensual tone pushes the boundaries of what one might expect from a mainstream series, and had it gone any further, it could easily have tipped into something far more explicit - pornography. That said, the physicality in the story is not without purpose—it underscores the emotional entanglement and psychological pull between the characters.
At the centre is Onuma, a woman at a vulnerable turning point in her life. Having just ended a relationship and entered her thirties, she is confronted with the sudden reappearance of Ureshino—a man with whom she shared a physical and morally complicated past. Their relationship, even a decade ago, was built on betrayal, as both were involved with other partners at the time. This history casts a long shadow, making their reunion both charged and deeply uncomfortable.
Onuma’s initial instinct is to distance herself, to maintain composure and bury the past. However, Ureshino’s persistence quickly erodes that resolve. His presence is unsettling not only because of what they shared, but because of how easily he reawakens something in her that she cannot fully control.
In contrast, Kusaka represents stability and sincerity. His growing interest in Onuma offers a clear, healthier alternative—someone dependable, respectful, and emotionally available. Yet, despite recognising this, Onuma finds herself drawn back into Ureshino’s orbit, reigniting a relationship that is as intoxicating as it is destructive.
This creates a deeply toxic dynamic. Onuma is caught in a painful push-and-pull—wanting to break free, yet repeatedly falling back into Ureshino's arm (or bed). While it may be easy to judge her as indecisive or lacking resolve, the drama invites a more compassionate perspective. It reflects a reality many can recognise: the difficulty of escaping emotionally manipulative or addictive relationships. Much like real-life toxic attachments or affairs, the pull is not always rational, nor is it easily resisted.
Ureshino is a particularly compelling, if troubling, character. His behaviour raises constant questions about his true intentions. Does he genuinely care for Onuma, or is he simply exerting control and indulging his carnal desires? When he senses her drifting toward Kusaka, he shifts tactics—suggesting a more “serious” relationship, which only deepens the ambiguity. His ability to manipulate both Onuma and the situation reveals a calculating, narcissistic streak that makes him both fascinating and unsettling to watch.
What makes the drama engaging is how it places the viewer in Onuma’s position. You are drawn into her confusion, her hesitation, and her internal conflict. Even as you recognise the toxicity of the situation, there is a lingering curiosity—perhaps even hope—that Ureshino’s feelings might be genuine. Yet, the memory of his past actions casts doubt over everything, creating a constant tension that drives the narrative forward.
Ultimately, If Only It Weren’t You is less about romance and more about emotional vulnerability, flawed choices, and the complexity of human relationships. It explores how desire, history, and unresolved feelings can blur judgement, leading individuals into situations they know they should avoid.
One thing, however, remains clear throughout: Ureshino’s manipulative tendencies and self-serving behaviour make him a deeply problematic figure, and the drama does not shy away from showing the damage such personalities can inflict.
Setting aside the emotional aspects of the drama, I felt that the male lead’s hairstyle did not quite suit him. It fell heavily over his eyes, making his face appear smaller and somewhat obscured. If the intention was to create an air of mystery or suggest a more elusive, unreadable character, it did not quite achieve that effect. A neater style, perhaps brushed slightly aside, would have been more flattering and effective on screen.
At the centre is Onuma, a woman at a vulnerable turning point in her life. Having just ended a relationship and entered her thirties, she is confronted with the sudden reappearance of Ureshino—a man with whom she shared a physical and morally complicated past. Their relationship, even a decade ago, was built on betrayal, as both were involved with other partners at the time. This history casts a long shadow, making their reunion both charged and deeply uncomfortable.
Onuma’s initial instinct is to distance herself, to maintain composure and bury the past. However, Ureshino’s persistence quickly erodes that resolve. His presence is unsettling not only because of what they shared, but because of how easily he reawakens something in her that she cannot fully control.
In contrast, Kusaka represents stability and sincerity. His growing interest in Onuma offers a clear, healthier alternative—someone dependable, respectful, and emotionally available. Yet, despite recognising this, Onuma finds herself drawn back into Ureshino’s orbit, reigniting a relationship that is as intoxicating as it is destructive.
This creates a deeply toxic dynamic. Onuma is caught in a painful push-and-pull—wanting to break free, yet repeatedly falling back into Ureshino's arm (or bed). While it may be easy to judge her as indecisive or lacking resolve, the drama invites a more compassionate perspective. It reflects a reality many can recognise: the difficulty of escaping emotionally manipulative or addictive relationships. Much like real-life toxic attachments or affairs, the pull is not always rational, nor is it easily resisted.
Ureshino is a particularly compelling, if troubling, character. His behaviour raises constant questions about his true intentions. Does he genuinely care for Onuma, or is he simply exerting control and indulging his carnal desires? When he senses her drifting toward Kusaka, he shifts tactics—suggesting a more “serious” relationship, which only deepens the ambiguity. His ability to manipulate both Onuma and the situation reveals a calculating, narcissistic streak that makes him both fascinating and unsettling to watch.
What makes the drama engaging is how it places the viewer in Onuma’s position. You are drawn into her confusion, her hesitation, and her internal conflict. Even as you recognise the toxicity of the situation, there is a lingering curiosity—perhaps even hope—that Ureshino’s feelings might be genuine. Yet, the memory of his past actions casts doubt over everything, creating a constant tension that drives the narrative forward.
Ultimately, If Only It Weren’t You is less about romance and more about emotional vulnerability, flawed choices, and the complexity of human relationships. It explores how desire, history, and unresolved feelings can blur judgement, leading individuals into situations they know they should avoid.
One thing, however, remains clear throughout: Ureshino’s manipulative tendencies and self-serving behaviour make him a deeply problematic figure, and the drama does not shy away from showing the damage such personalities can inflict.
Setting aside the emotional aspects of the drama, I felt that the male lead’s hairstyle did not quite suit him. It fell heavily over his eyes, making his face appear smaller and somewhat obscured. If the intention was to create an air of mystery or suggest a more elusive, unreadable character, it did not quite achieve that effect. A neater style, perhaps brushed slightly aside, would have been more flattering and effective on screen.
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