Betweensunandsea

I didn’t expect Khemjira to crawl under my skin like this… but here we are. This series is beautiful in that quiet, aching way — the kind that doesn’t scream for your attention but slowly takes over your heart. The production alone already had me hooked: dark, atmospheric visuals, haunting sound design, and rituals that feel sacred, scary, and oddly poetic all at once. Everything feels intentional. Nothing feels cheap.

And the romance??? Oh it hurts in the best way. This is not loud love. This is longing, restraint, stolen glances, hands almost touching, emotions swallowed and held for too long. The love story feels fated and fragile, like one wrong move could break everything — and that tension just *wrecked* me episode after episode.

Harit Buayoi… sir. SIR. He absolutely owns this role. The way he expresses pain, fear, devotion, and love without even speaking should be illegal. His eyes do half the acting and somehow say more than pages of dialogue. Watching his character slowly crack — then soften — then love anyway, knowing the risks? I was gone.

That said — the reason this sits at 8.5/10 (and not higher) is the writing choice for Khem. The character is written quite effeminate, and while the actor plays it beautifully and with sincerity, it sometimes leans into a portrayal that feels more stereotypical than necessary. It’s not an acting issue at all — it’s a writing decision. The performance elevates the character, but I couldn’t help wishing Khem had been written with a bit more complexity and balance.

Still, Khemjira feels like a series made with care and heart — one that trusts the audience to feel rather than be told. It’s haunting, tender, painful, and beautiful. I finished it with that hollow-but-full feeling, staring at the screen like “okay… now what do I do with my life?”

8.5/10 for I would still suffer again. Would still rewatch. Would still recommend — emotional damage and all.