You think you know where a psychological thriller is going, and then it yanks the rug out from under you. That's the vibe with My Happy Ending. Honestly, if you went into this TV Chosun series expecting a standard "woman takes down cheating husband" story, you probably felt a bit like Seo Jae-won—disoriented and questioning everything you just saw.
It’s heavy.
Jae-won, played by the powerhouse Jang Na-ra, starts as the CEO of a multi-million dollar furniture brand. She has a "perfect" husband, Heo Soon-young (Son Ho-jun), and a daughter. But then the layers peel back. The show deals with betrayal, but it’s actually a deep, visceral exploration of bipolar disorder and how childhood trauma can fracture a person’s reality decades later. It’s not just a revenge plot; it’s a survival story.
The Reality of Seo Jae-won’s World in My Happy Ending
Most people talk about the "twists" in My Happy Ending like they’re just there for shock value. They aren't. They are symptoms. When we see Jae-won being stalked or realizing her husband is having an affair with her former best friend, Kwon Yun-jin (So Yi-hyun), we’re seeing the collapse of her carefully constructed stability.
Jae-won has lived with bipolar disorder for years. She’s been self-medicating, hiding it to maintain her status as a successful "girl boss" in a society that still stigmatizes mental illness heavily. This isn't some side plot. It’s the engine of the entire show.
Wait.
Let’s look at Soon-young for a second. Son Ho-jun plays him with such a weird, shifting energy. One minute he’s the devoted stay-at-home dad, the next he’s a cold, calculating cheater. Or is he? The brilliance of the writing lies in how it forces us to see the world through Jae-won’s eyes. Because she is an unreliable narrator to herself, we become unreliable viewers. We don't know who to trust because she doesn't know if she can trust her own eyes.
The Impact of Bipolar Disorder on the Narrative
Director Jo Soo-won, who did Pinocchio and I Hear Your Voice, uses a specific visual language here. The lighting is often cold. Shadows are long. This isn't the warm, fuzzy aesthetic of a rom-com. It’s the visual representation of a "depressive episode" or a "manic break."
🔗 Read more: Love Island UK Who Is Still Together: The Reality of Romance After the Villa
Real talk: My Happy Ending is one of the few K-dramas that actually shows the grueling process of psychiatric treatment without romanticizing it. We see the hospital stays. We see the medication adjustments. We see the shame.
It’s uncomfortable.
Critics like those at NME have pointed out that the show’s middle section can feel repetitive, but that repetition actually mirrors the cycle of a mental health crisis. You think you’re better. You crash. You think you’ve found the truth. It slips away.
That Mid-Series Twist Everyone Hated (and Why It Worked)
If you’ve watched it, you know. The "incident" involving Soon-young halfway through the series changed the entire genre of the show. Many viewers felt betrayed. They wanted a The World of the Married style revenge arc where the wife gets even.
But My Happy Ending isn't interested in a simple eye-for-an-eye.
By removing a primary character mid-way, the show forces Jae-won—and us—to confront the fact that the "villains" aren't just the people around her. The ultimate antagonist is her own fractured psyche and the secrets she’s kept buried since her childhood. It shifts from a whodunnit to a "who am I?"
The Role of Kwon Yun-jin as a Foil
Kwon Yun-jin is a fascinating character because she is essentially Jae-won without the internal moral compass or the drive to heal. She is fueled entirely by envy. While Jae-won is trying to hold her world together, Yun-jin is trying to tear it down because she feels she was "robbed" of the life Jae-won has.
💡 You might also like: Gwendoline Butler Dead in a Row: Why This 1957 Mystery Still Packs a Punch
It's a toxic friendship trope taken to its absolute extreme.
The confrontation scenes between Jang Na-ra and So Yi-hyun are masterclasses in tension. They don't just scream; they simmer. You can feel the years of resentment bubbling under the surface of every polite conversation at the office or over coffee.
Is the Title "My Happy Ending" Sarcastic?
You’d think so, right?
Throughout the first ten episodes, the title feels like a cruel joke. Every time Jae-won tries to find her "happy ending," something else catches fire. Her company is under investigation. Her family is falling apart. Her father’s past is being dragged into the light.
But the ending—the actual finale—redefines what "happy" means.
In most K-dramas, a happy ending is a wedding, a promotion, or a grand reunion. In this show, the happy ending is simply clarity. It’s Jae-won accepting her diagnosis. It’s her choosing to step away from the toxic pursuit of perfection. It’s about finding a "new normal" where she can live honestly, even if that life looks smaller and less "glamorous" than the one she had as a CEO.
Honestly, it's a much more mature take on the concept than we usually get.
📖 Related: Why ASAP Rocky F kin Problems Still Runs the Club Over a Decade Later
Real-World Nuance: The Portrayal of Mental Health in Korea
Korea has one of the highest suicide rates in the OECD, yet the conversation around mental health is often muted. My Happy Ending steps right into that gap.
- It shows the pressure of the "chaebol" lifestyle.
- It highlights the fear of losing custody of children due to a diagnosis.
- It examines the generational trauma of parents who didn't know how to help their kids.
Jae-won’s mother is a pivotal figure here. Her own struggles and the way they were handled (or not handled) set the stage for Jae-won’s adult life. The show argues that you can't have a happy ending until you stop running from your "unhappy" beginning.
Actionable Insights for Viewers and Writers
If you’re watching My Happy Ending, or if you’re a creator looking at why this show resonated despite its polarizing nature, there are a few things to take away.
For the Viewer:
Stop looking for a "good guy." Every character in this show is deeply flawed. If you stop trying to root for someone and instead start trying to understand them, the experience is way more rewarding. Also, pay attention to the colors. When the palette shifts to warmer tones toward the end, it’s not just a filter; it’s a sign of Jae-won’s internal healing.
For the Content Creator:
This show proves that audience expectations can be a double-edged sword. If you market a show as a "revenge thriller" but deliver a "psychological character study," you will alienate some people. But you’ll also create a cult following of people who appreciate the depth.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Experience:
- Watch the behind-the-scenes footage of Jang Na-ra’s hospital scenes. The amount of research she put into portraying a manic episode is evident in her physicality—the shaking hands, the rapid speech, the "thousand-yard stare."
- Compare the first and last episodes. Look at how Jae-won carries herself. The physical transformation from a rigid, "perfect" CEO to a woman who is breathing freely is subtle but powerful.
- Research the legalities. The show touches on Korean family law regarding mental health and parental rights. Understanding these stakes makes Jae-won’s fear of her husband much more grounded and less like "drama for drama's sake."
My Happy Ending isn't an easy watch. It’s not "comfort" TV. It’s a messy, loud, quiet, and eventually peaceful look at what happens when the mask we wear for the world finally breaks. It’s about the fact that sometimes, you have to lose everything—your job, your reputation, your "perfect" family—to actually find yourself. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the only ending that actually matters.