Why Does 'My Husband' Have Such A Controversial Ending?

The ending of 'My Husband' sparked debates because it subverted traditional romance tropes. Instead of a neat resolution, it left key relationships ambiguous—some fans wanted the protagonist to choose between love interests definitively, but the writer opted for realism over fantasy. The final scenes hinted at growth rather than closure, showing the couple acknowledging their flaws without magically fixing them. This raw honesty divided readers; some praised its maturity, others felt robbed of catharsis. The symbolism of the broken wedding ring being reforged into two separate bands was particularly polarizing—interpretations ranged from 'healthy independence' to 'failed marriage.' The author’s note mentioning 'love as a process, not an endpoint' didn’t help either.

As someone who analyzed 'My Husband' chapter by chapter, I see the ending as a deliberate challenge to reader expectations. The controversy stems from its structural audacity—it mirrors the protagonist’s mental health journey, which means no tidy bows. Early chapters followed classic romance beats, making the abrupt tonal shift in the finale jarring. The husband’s disappearance in the last act wasn’t laziness; it reflected his PTSD avoidance patterns. Key details were there if you looked: his medication dosage increasing in background shots, the protagonist’s therapist noting 'recovery isn’t linear.'

The kitchen argument scene encapsulates why people reacted so strongly. Where most stories would crescendo with a grand romantic gesture, this one had the couple snapping over burnt toast—a brilliant but divisive choice. It showed love persisting through mundane ruptures, not just dramatic reconciliations. The open-ended final shot of separate toothbrushes sharing a cup frustrated fans wanting traditional 'HEA' but resonated with those valuing emotional authenticity over tropes.

What elevates the debate is how the ending recontextualizes earlier scenes. Rewatching reveals subtle foreshadowing—like the recurring motif of mended ceramics that still show cracks. This wasn’t haphazard writing; it was a thesis on imperfect love. The director’s commentary confirms they intentionally avoided closure to mirror real relationship dynamics. While frustrating, this approach made the story linger in readers’ minds far longer than a conventional ending would have.

That ending hit like a gut punch because it refused to play safe. Romance fans expected reconciliation after the third-act breakup, but 'My Husband' went darker—the couple ends up in separate countries, communicating only through postcards. Some call it cowardice; I call it brave. The husband’s final letter admitting 'I love you but can’t be your home' devastated readers because it prioritized emotional truth over feel-good fantasies. What really stings is how it mirrors real-life separations where love exists but isn’t enough.

The cultural context adds layers. In a genre dominated by Western 'soulmate' narratives, this Korean webtoon presented marriage as a choice requiring daily renewal, not destiny. The husband’s decision to prioritize his mental health over the relationship sparked important discussions—some accused it of romanticizing abandonment, others hailed its progressive take on male vulnerability. The artwork’s shift from warm hues to cool blues in the last chapter visually reinforced their emotional distance without a single word of exposition. That’s masterful storytelling, even if it hurts.