“Sort Of” Season 2 Grapples With the Many Complications of Love

Season two of Sort Of opens with a conversation between our protagonist Sabi and their close friend and confidante Bessy about love.

“It’s what I want, with everybody, not just my romantic relationships but like family and friends, with all the loves I have. Just, I want that uncomplicated Rachel McAdams love. That’s doable, right?” Sabi says. Bessy looks Sabi in the eye but says nothing, her silence speaking volumes in itself.

Setting aside that I don’t watch enough mainstream Western media to understand the Rachel McAdams reference, this conversation sets the tone for season two of Sort Of.

In many ways, this thread is the logical continuation of where Sabi’s story left off. The first season of Sort Of showed the journey of Sabi beginning to trust that they could be vulnerable with the people in the various parts of their life. The show opens with Sabi’s patchwork life as a nanny and bartender beginning to fall apart: they unexpectedly run into their mother Raffo and come out as trans to her; shortly after, Bessy enters a coma. With great nuance and care, Sort Of shows how Sabi, Raffo, Bessy’s husband Paul, and their kids Violet and Henry all must grapple with the events that have upended their lives. As the season ends, we see Sabi start to become comfortable with taking up space as themselves in the world, setting boundaries with Paul and their family, while also being more openly honest with Raffo, and, at the very end, finally admitting how important Bessy is to them.

A pivotal moment in season one is when Sabi meets Olympia at a party, which is also the first time we really see Sabi engage with queer community more broadly. Olympia is a trans femme who is inspiringly at ease with herself, and Sabi finds not only affirmation but also a path forward for themselves in her friendship. In the last episode of the season, Olympia encourages Sabi to let others in, to give Raffo a chance, and to be more honest with Bessy.

Season two starts some undefined period of time after the first ended. And in that time, Olympia and Sabi’s friendship has progressed from the pair spending substantial time together to Olympia approaching Sabi with greater distance. Sabi clearly wants their relationship to deepen, but Olympia seems to be looking for something casual and fun, and in the second episode Olympia introduces Sabi to her husband at a club. Sabi had just been speaking with Bessy about wanting an uncomplicated love, and it quickly becomes clear that, regardless of how personally important Olympia has been to them, any further relationship will be anything but uncomplicated.

It was hard for me to watch what feels like an unexplained shift in Olympia’s personality. She seemed so genuine in the first season, like a person who strongly valued honesty, so it’s unclear how she could lead Sabi on in this way. Seeing that their relationship has progressed and become more intimate (without, however, seeing how that happened) and then seeing it quickly fall apart in the span of just two episodes was incredibly unsettling. It felt both like the writers are trying to cover too much ground and also, unnervingly, real. Because it’s unclear how much time has passed between the two seasons, Olympia’s character can read as inconsistent. And, at the same time, Sort Of is aptly showing the hazards of dating, especially when you’ve come to idolize someone.

Two trans femmes, Sabi and Olympia are in a bed made with blood orange sheets. Sabi looks at Olympia, who's lying on a mustard yellow pillow.

In many ways, this is what really defines the second season of Sort Of. It’s tantalizingly true to life and yet disappointingly uneven because it’s trying to do too much in too little time. One minute the characters feel real and in the next, they’ve grown or changed or deepend in some way that implies the passage of a substantial period of time, but just how life is pacing remains unclear throughout.

There are two relationships that especially suffer from this issue: Sabi’s relationship to Bessy and Sabi’s relationship with their father Imran. And, unfortunately for Sort Of, these are two of the most central relationships of the show and the second season, in particular.

Season one was notably marked by both Bessy and Imran’s absence: we see Bessy through other characters’ eyes in flashbacks and we hear about Imran from his family. That they both loom large in Sabi’s life is incredibly clear, which is why the first season climaxes with the imminent return of both, Bessy just out of the coma and Imran returning to Canada after Sabi’s cousin outs them. But the expectations set up around each of these characters in season one were markedly different and so the ways in which the second season fails to live up to those expectations also differs.


Everything we heard about Imran in season one was rife with the implications of domestic violence, whether that’s actual physical violence, emotional abuse, control, coercion, or all of the above. So many South Asians know what this looks like — never out in the open but ever present — to the extent that there are entire Quora threads dedicated to the lasting harm so many of us continue to grapple with. And that violence is always grounded in a particular brand of patriarchy: one where fathers and husbands must, by definition, keep their wives, children, and most of all daughters in line; where sons must dutifully carry on the family’s legacy in their success and daughters must uphold the family’s honor in their modesty; where mothers and wives become the enforcers of everyone’s role so that things don’t get up to the head of the family, who will always react to transgressions harshly.

The subtext of violence was expressed repeatedly in the last few episodes of season one, and the gendered implications of that subtext are impossible to ignore, particularly as a South Asian viewer. There was Aqsa and Sabi’s utter dismay that Raffo left them a voicemail urging them to “jiyo apne zindagi” instead of dictating how they must dress and act, as she had their whole lives. Later, we see Raffo pushing Aqsa into the role of enforcer when she tells Aqsa to get Sabi to change their clothes because Raffo is afraid of her in-laws seeing Sabi in all their trans nonbinary glory. Caught in the middle, like so many first-generation South Asian older sisters, Aqsa tries to, in her view, reason with Sabi, not realizing the violence of her own ask. But Aqsa’s fear of imminent danger is also palpable, when she finally declares in frustration that if their father finds out, he’ll “take a giant shit on mom.” And we see that fear in Raffo’s eyes when her brother-in-law Shehraz walks through the door and takes in Sabi for who they are, next to a giant hole in what was the wall between the living room and kitchen. Even Shehraz says at the end of season one that Imran would “make everyone’s life hell” once he returns from Dubai.

And yet, Imran walks out of a shuttle from the airport smiling, greets his family — even offering Aqsa an embrace — before being confounded by Sabi’s appearance and meekly whispering, “Hello.” Who is this mild-mannered man, who acknowledges his daughter as an equal to the men of the family and simply looks away from the child he expected to carry on his legacy?

The Mehboob family stands in a line on the lawn to greet Imran. In the foreground, Sabi looks at their father, who can't return Sabi's gaze. Just behind Sabi is their sister Aqsa and in the distance we see their mother Raffo.

In the first couple of episodes, we get a handful of interactions that are more in line with what I would expect: Imran’s insistence that Aqsa clean up the table with the other women instead of Sabi and his sharp retort that Raffo is “trying to turn this house into a circus” between her choice in paint for the walls (after asking for her preference) and her “untamed children.” Both of these interactions were reminiscent of some of the behaviors I’ve observed from my own father, and it’s the kind of enforcement of patriarchy and emotional abuse I would expect from the character of Imran built up in season one. But by and large, aggression and abuse don’t define Imran’s character in season two, as we’ve been led to expect. His approach to handling Sabi is more subtle and manipulative: he forces Sabi to spend time doing manual labor with him as an electrician while making thinly coded comments about Sabi’s genitals. We also never really see his wrath expressed beyond these two surface-level statements.

(As a side note, if anyone in the Mehboob family directly antagonizes Sabi, it’s, surprisingly, Aqsa, and there isn’t ever really a coherent reason as to why. Throughout the season, it feels like there’s a conflict simmering between Aqsa and Sabi, but it’s never really confronted. Continuing the thread of inconsistent characterizations, Aqsa’s callousness to Sabi in season two, in terms of their identity and the complicated situation with their father as well as their finances, also feels at odds with her real concern when Sabi had by all appearances gone missing at the end of season one. Who is Aqsa and how does she view her sibling? And how does she feel about Raffo’s unexpected acceptance of Sabi’s identity, particularly as that squares with the lines that she herself has had to toe at the behest of Raffo? None of that is really explored. Instead, we see Aqsa as heartless and inconsiderate for most of the season — a portrayal given far too often to single South Asian women with progressive values, especially in South Asian media. I’m sure this wasn’t Sort Of’s intention, but it’s hard for me to not view this particular storyline from this particular lens.)

As the season progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that Imran is, effectively, powerless over his family, even as Raffo, Aqsa, and Sabi continue to live in fear of him. There can be a certain amount of truth to that, as I’ve witnessed in my own life. As children grow up in Western contexts, making their own money and moving out, we can, sometimes, buy ourselves freedom from our repressive families. But the ambiguity of time in the show also makes that hard to parse and so, more often than not, it feels that Imran “isn’t really as bad” as we had been led to expect.

I don’t think it is the show’s intention to give a pass to a patriarchal abuser. In many ways, I think Sort Of is trying to tell a messier story about the intertwined nature of love and abuse in South Asian families. Exactly halfway through the season, Raffo sees Imran standing outside her dance class and is too afraid to go home so she calls Sabi. At the time of her call, Sabi had just set up a sort of date with Wolf, a new potential love interest for Sabi who could offer them that “uncomplicated Rachel McAdams love” but Sabi seems to feel ambivalent about him, romantically speaking (a different kind of complication with regards to love — sometimes you don’t love what you can have). And so Wolf and Sabi pick up Raffo, treat her to a meal, and then take her home. As she’s leaving, Wolf makes an astute observation: that sometimes, it can be hard for us to accept when people close to us change, it can be hard for us to allow them space to change.

Wolf is dropping Raffo off at home, with Sabi sitting in the backseat. Wolf looks attentively as Raffo stares into the distance while reflecting on who Imran is.

The question I was left wondering after I watched this, though, was what does it mean to accept that an abuser has changed? What does it mean for a community at large and what does it mean for the specific people he’s harmed?

Sort Of tries to grapple with this, to some extent. At a later point, Imran takes Sabi to see the Imam. The set up as a viewer, and to Sabi, is incredibly clear: Imran wants the Imam “to fix” to Sabi. But instead, the Imam emphasizes that love comes with understanding, and so maybe the pair should try to understand each other. Afterwards Imran says to Sabi, “That Imam needs more training. You don’t need to understand someone before loving them. I don’t understand you at all,” just stopping short of saying that he loves Sabi — he is a South Asian father, after all. But the question of what Imran’s love — which, up to this point, has been defined entirely by control — means to Sabi is one the show only very briefly addresses.

And then, out of nowhere, in the very next episode, Imran dies. Shehraz explains that he’d had a stent placed a while back in Dubai and that Imran hadn’t wanted to worry his family about his health. But honestly, it’s hard not to feel like the show’s creators simply didn’t know what to do with him. I don’t think the writers could imagine a future in which Imran stays in the family and Raffo continues her own story of growth, effectively working towards repairing her relationship with Sabi. I certainly can’t. And that relationship — between Raffo and Sabi — is one of the complicated loves that the show is, rightly, invested in.

It is this open question, though, about how to make sense of Imran and Sabi’s relationship that leads to the jaw dropping cliff hanger. But before we can turn to that, we need to talk about Bessy.


We saw just glimpses of Bessy in season one, mostly from the other characters’ perspectives. She was struggling with her marriage to Paul, which is unsurprising, frankly, because — before Bessy’s coma changes him — Paul was incredibly self-absorbed. At some point, Bessy had begun fulfilling both her sexual and emotional needs outside of her marriage, as we learned about her affair with a man named Penny and also saw that she frequented Bar Buk to chat with Sabi on what seemed to be a regular basis.

To Sabi, Bessy is particularly important, the first person to ask their pronouns, to really see them for who they are before they even realized it themselves. And that Sabi is equally important to Bessy was implied in their one brief, uncomfortable interaction the night before Bessy’s crash. “I’m going to miss you,” Bessy said as she was leaving, because Paul had fired Sabi as the family’s nanny earlier that day, “Will you miss me?” The pain was clear in Bessy’s eyes when Sabi couldn’t answer the question. It’s clear that in season two, the show wants to follow the thread of this relationship. The season opens with Sabi and Bessy, after all.

The thing is, it seems like Sort Of doesn’t seriously want to contend with the highly unrealistic medical situation that it put Bessy in, in the first place. (Bessy’s bicycle crash does not even remotely follow how bicycle mechanics work, let alone the extremely unlikely odds of someone getting a serious head injury from a crash that does not involve a car.) We don’t know how much time has passed between seasons one and two, but Bessy went from barely verbalizing to sitting up and holding a full conversation. A couple of episodes later, she insists on leaving the medical center against the recommendation of her healthcare providers because she wants to be at home, but there clearly isn’t an around-the-clock care system in place for her. One, or at most two, episodes pass between her walking across the room unassisted, climbing a flight of stairs, and venturing out on her own.

It’s hard not to feel like Sort Of just wants Bessy “to be better” so that the show can move forward with its story about complicated loves. Throughout season two, Bessy spends far more time trying to make sense of how she’s ended up married to, in her words, “a white dude” than she does actually contending with her physical or cognitive limitations. (And even the bit of that we do see, she “overcomes” each of those limitations one by one.) This leads to both a confused and, at times, frustratingly ableist story.

On the one hand, despite Bessy’s miraculous recovery, we’re being asked to believe that her decision making has been impaired, that she’s acting on impulses — which is why she leaves the medical center without telling anyone about her decision, why she invites her ex-girlfriend to her house without thinking through the potential consequences for her kids, why she kisses Sabi. But on the other hand, she’s holding thoughtful and coherent conversations with people every step of the way.

Sabi and Bessy lie side by side on Bessy's hospital bed under orange-toned lights. Sabi's wearing a tooth and fang crop top and toying with their necklace. Bessy dons a beanie and a loose, off-the-shoulder pink top. They're looking away from each other and smiling, as they reflect on relationships.

Honestly, it’s hard to know what to make of any of it. Is Bessy compassionate and caring or selfish, and how much of the balance between those has been tipped by her crash, both the physical ramifications of it as well as the emotional toll? The show can’t seem to make up its mind. There are moments sprinkled throughout that feel like they’ve been thoughtfully crafted, but as with Olympia, the sum total feels a little scattered and like it’s being driven more by the ending than by the logic of storytelling and characterization.


When Imran dies, Bessy is unable to attend the funeral because (for once!) she’s having a particularly bad day with her symptoms. But later that evening, she feels well enough to try to attend the opening for the club that Sabi, 7ven, and Wolf have started over the course of the season as a replacement for Bar Buk.

Sabi reflects on how badly they needed Bessy that day, how they wanted to tell her so badly how conflicted they felt throughout the funeral because of what was expected of them on so many levels. But Bessy has made things complicated because she kissed Sabi. Eventually, Sabi shares that the whole day, people have been telling them, “how much their dad loved them.”

And Bessy, without skipping a beat, asks, “Did you love him?” — a question that breaks Sabi.

“That’s like such an obvious question, and no one asked me,” they reply through sobs.

As a viewer, it comes as a bit of a surprise, though, that Sabi can’t answer Bessy’s question. There’s pieces of the story as to what exactly the relationship between Sabi and Imran was throughout the season, but the connections aren’t there. There’s too many inconsistencies in Imran’s character and simply not enough time devoted to Sabi’s internal struggle for this question to feel like the obvious conclusion to the season.

And similarly, what comes next, also feels out of character for both Bessy and Sabi — though not out of nowhere. From the very beginning, the question of what Sabi and Bessy’s relationship actually is has been left open but also uncertain.

One of the things I loved about season one of Sort Of was how it showed a variety of relationships and the significance they all have on Sabi’s life without feeling the need to romanticize every one. I didn’t realize it at the time, when I first watched Sort Of, but this implicit message really drew me to the show. And of the many relationships in Sabi’s life, the one with Bessy is incredibly precious. It’s a deep connection of the kind that can be hard to come by.

What I realized in watching season two of Sort Of is that, in spite of my relatively new found peace with myself around being single, this is still a tender subject for me, and also that I desperately want to see stories that center nonromantic relationships as the focal points of people’s lives. And so, to watch Sabi return Bessy’s earlier advances and kiss her just before the show cuts to the end credits, it’s hard not to feel like something has been lost in the pursuit of telling a story about how there are no easy, uncomplicated loves. I shouldn’t fault this show for telling the story it wants to tell rather than the one I want to see, but it’s so hard not to after the shift away from themes that resonated so strongly with me in the first season.

Despite the faults and inconsistencies in season two, I really do want to know what happens next. Bilal Baig and Fab Filippo are telling a captivating, if somewhat uneven, story that focuses on so many characters who hold so many identities that aren’t often represented in media. I can’t wait to see what’s to come.


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himani

Himani is a dabbler of a writer. Her work includes reviews of media centering Asian stories, news and politics, advice and the occasional personal essay. Find her on Instagram.

Himani has written 49 articles for us.

20 Comments

  1. I really appreciate this review! I found a lot of things about this season enjoyable and thought provoking, and I love the chance to hear your thoughts and perspective on it. I think your point about time-frames being a mix of unclear and rushed is really key, & I was also disappointed with the Bessie kiss at the end. 😕

  2. I couldn’t have said any of this better. I wish that Sabi and Bessy didn’t kiss, the platonic relationships on this show flourish.

    I do think that Aqsa’s issue with Sabi is that she feels as if no one cares about her or her life, only Sabi and their issues. I just believe the show does a poor job conveying that belief- however misguided. I love this show though. I can’t wait to see what happens next!

    • Yea the platonic relationships are really the heart of the show.

      As to Aqsa… so I have thought about this, a lot and talked to a couple of people I’m really close with about this but I just couldn’t find the right way to work it into this review. I think what’s personally difficult for me is that I think you’re right that Aqsa’s problem in season 2 is that no one in the family cares about her life and it’s all about Sabi. First, this feels a little out of nowhere from season 1 to season 2, but let’s set that aside.

      When it comes to the way patriarchy manifests in really conservative South Asian families, like my own and also how I read the way the Mehboob family is portrayed, the fact of the matter is that daughters ARE secondary to sons. The best way I can explain this is to talk about the everlastingly iconic Bollywood movie Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (which NYT recently had an article about), which is about a girl named Simran who wants to marry a boy she likes but her father insists on arranging her marriage to his friend’s son instead and then takes the family to India (from London where they grew up) to get her married ASAP. Halfway through, Simran’s mother sees her daughter heartbroken about her upcoming marriage and she delivers one of the most resoundingly powerful speeches in the history of Bollywood. Simran’s mother shares a story about how her father always said that there’s no difference between men and women, but then as soon as the family hit hard times her education was stopped so her brothers could study. And when her daughter was born, she made a vow with herself that her daughter would never sacrifice herself for another or for family, the way she was forced to. But, the mother says, she realized that she was wrong about that. That women don’t have a right to make vows in the first place. That women only exist to sacrifice for men, who will never sacrifice in turn. And so she’s coming to her daughter to ask her to give up her happiness.

      So when it comes to Aqsa… IDK that’s one of the areas where I just, really struggled with what the show was doing (or not doing) — largely bc of the time constraints, etc etc I think what really needed to happen, or at least what I wished would have happened is for Aqsa and Sabi to have a hard conversation about gender and their family. We kind of see some of this play out in the funeral at the end, but they still don’t actually talk about it.

      I’m not saying that Aqsa is justified or that her actions and assumptions aren’t hurtful. But idk… there’s just something really sticky and complicated there when I look at this from coming inside the cultural context where I feel like the show kind of missed the mark.

  3. Loved this review, there were so many things I just loved about the second season of Sort-Of and so many things that just felt like mismanaged potential. It takes a lot of care to look at something so closely like this and it’s been hard to find writing about this show that’s willing to go so deep. Thank you :)

  4. thank you so much for giving this show such a detailed and thoughtful writeup, Himani. i think Sort Of is really special and i’m glad to see it given this level of time and attention and personal reflection.

    for better or worse, i tend to forget a lot of the details from one season to the next, so when i saw this season i didn’t struggle with the inconsistencies (which, hello fellow analytical brain, probably would’ve stood out for me more had i been primed to see them). instead what i was really struck by was change, massive, massive amounts of change- if i had to focus on a theme it would be how Sabi had to continue to try to locate themself even as the ground was constantly shifting under their feet. it was (appropriately) disorienting to experience that as a viewer, and i found recognizable the feelings of how our personal worlds can morph overnight as we come to see a different side of another person we thought we knew or a relationship we’d counted on to function in a certain way, or with the disappearance of a place that was a home and safe haven, or with the discovery of some unrealized aspect of our own feelings. that feeling of not being able to go back and having to figure out how to keep moving forward, but how? i don’t really know what a rachel mcadams is either, but sabi’s longing for simple, reliable belonging and love and solid ground spoke to me deeply, in a way i don’t think i’d fully realized until writing this comment- so thank you, again, for providing the opportunity to reflect in this space.

    • Thank you so much for sharing your perspective! I really really appreciate it! I hadn’t seen it this way but as soon as you said it — the massive amounts of change Sabi is dealing with — I was like OMG yes of course! That’s absolutely right! Like that is why it feels unsettling and also super super real at the same time! There definitely is something to the fact that clearly this show is so powerfully done that as a viewer I’m feeling that viscerally and recoiling from it.

      What this is partially making me realize is that I think what the show is capturing is how hard it is to be in your 20s? (or at least it was super hard for me…) like, I wasn’t removed enough from my family yet to be able to just be like “fuck it, good bye” and I was also desperately seeking out “my home” the people and the relationships that would ground me. And there were painful moments along the way where I thought I found someone (as a friend or otherwise) who I could go to as a “home” but they didn’t want to or couldn’t provide that in the way I needed.

      Thanks so much for sharing this perspective. You’ve really given me a different way of thinking about and holding the show.

  5. “Seeing that their relationship has progressed and become more intimate (without, however, seeing how that happened) and then seeing it quickly fall apart in the span of just two episodes was incredibly unsettling. It felt both like the writers are trying to cover too much ground and also, unnervingly, real. ”

    Loved this review but yo, this line basically sums up my last relationship. Yip!

    • Thanks so much for reading and sorry you had that experience! And also, yea I kept going back and forth between “this feels like Olympia did a 180” and “omg people can be so assholes and I can totally relate…”

      Similar to one of the reflections I wrote above, I think I myself was having a bit of a visceral reaction to how the some of relationships that started as friendships were going going sideways because it’s I’ve just been in that type of situation too many times and it’s like “no I just want stories about people who have happy and fulfilling friendships because that’s where my life is at right now!”

      Wishing you all the best!

  6. Thank you for this thoughtful analysis, Himani. I would also have preferred to see them explore a fully non-romantic connection between Sabi and Bessie, and I don’t want to see Sabi drawn into their employers’ marital drama.

    The timeline does feel rushed, I wonder if they’re anxious about being renewed so they’re packing a lot into it? Or maybe it’s about showing how overwhelming Sabi’s life is, with the unfortunate consequence that some stories don’t get to breathe.

    • Thanks so much for reading! I was wondering that too, if they were just trying to cover as much ground on the stories they want to tell as they could, and it’s one of the things that I really struggled with in writing this review. I talked about this in my post on IG, that it’s so hard to criticize a creator who’s star is just rising when that criticism boils down to “trying to do too much in too little time” because I understand why they are, given everything, you know?

      I really hope the show gets renewed and I really, really want to see what comes next.

  7. Thank you for this review! I love that there is sooo much to dig into with this show. Even with a pretty large cast, I feel like you get more complexity of the characters than usual in a show, nevermind one that is only 20mins an episode. I agree those characterizations can be uneven, but the depth still really stands out to me.

    The exploration of so many types of relationships also appeals to me, though I hadn’t realized it that way till you pointed it out. I really hope they will drop the Bessy lover storyline, though that does seem unlikely given all the lead up. Up until this point, you could say this is a show about a million things and be right: about identity, family, TBI, art, South Asian experience, gender, queerness, religion, gig work life, on and on. It’d be a real shame if they started pushing it more into a romantic relationship focused type of show (and pleaaaaaaase don’t draw out the “will they, won’t they”).

    Really appreciate the space to love on this show together!

    • Thanks so much for reading! That’s exactly what floored me about the first season is like how many characters and storylines they covered so well, so much depth, all of the characters felt so developed and real and yet it was just like 8 20-min eps… like literally less time than it takes to watch a Bollywood movie if you saw the whole thing in one sitting… I think the second season did a lot of things really, really well even if it was a little uneven.

  8. thank you for this review, you’ve given me a new perspective on this season!

    I personally really enjoyed this season, and while i do not think that sabi and bessy should be in a romantic relationship, it doesn’t feel out of nowhere to me, i feel like i picked up romantic tension from the little we saw of bessy and sabi in season 1. as well. i don’t think they are well suited to a romantic relationship tho. honestly tho sabi has so much seemingly romantic tension with multiple on the show (this is not a complaint lol).

    i do think that because it is such a short season, and there are so may interesting characters and relationships, some feel more rushed than others. i know it is technically a comedy, but honestly this show should have 40 minutes and 13 episodes. if we had more time i think we would have seen more about aqsa and sabi’s relationship. i also thought imran was going to be a lot more verbally abusive based on the first season and would have liked to see that change on screen (or explained better).

    overall, i really enjoyed this season- even better than season 1. i wanted wolf (my sweet sweet boy) and sabi to be together. i found this season really tender and beautiful. i really love this show and i’m excited for the places to go.

    • I LOVE WOLF SO MUCH!!!! I also really really really really want Wolf and Sabi to be together!

      And yea, I feel like this season especially could have benefited for more and/or longer episodes for sure.

      I hear you about Bessy, there was some tension there for sure, but I just think that as precious as Sabi’s relationship is with Violet & Henry (esp in season 1) it just felt out of character to me that Sabi would reciprocate romanticizing their relationship with Bessy. That said, that kiss was also juxtaposed with scenes of Raffo and Aqsa working through grief in their own way, so it’s really an open question as to what happens next!

      V excited for next season! Thanks so much for reading and sharing your thoughts!

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