s a r a

there's a particular feeling that only j-dramas seem capable of conjuring—a kind of quiet comfort and tender endearment. if you've spent any time in the world of japanese dramas, you know exactly what i mean. it's that raw, unvarnished yet light storytelling magic no million-dollar production can replicate.

i've been saying for ages that we collectively need more adult-centred dramas on our watchlists, for they usually tend to handle the matters of life and love with unfiltered honesty. romantics anonymous gives us two protagonists trying to carve out a place for themselves in a world that doesn't always make room for them. they eventually learn that they're okay as they are, as long as someone else truly sees and understands them.

apart from the lovely aesthetic and soothing soundtrack (like a balm to your soul, really), the narrative moves at a brisk pace and ties itself beautifully on a human level. you're invited to explore the emotional significance of chocolate, add gorgeous cinematography and just the right amount of chaos, and the whole project becomes a surprisingly heartfelt experience. it even managed to make me cry happy tears, which i count as a small win.

of course, perfection is elusive, so let's talk shortcomings. if you're someone who prioritises romance above all else, brace yourself: the chocolate-making is the main course, while the romance is more of a side dish. all subplots are, really. the story in itself lacks a certain tension and it could all use a bit of nuance. especially the portrayal of mental health, which, at times, feels a bit too light-hearted.

even so, romantics anonymous remains the kind of drama that can gently brighten your slow evening and leave a soft smile on your face. it's lovely, a little messy, yet quietly comforting—a sort of story to remind you that it's okay not to be okay.