Episode 5 of Love, Take Two, My Love from the Sad Star, drifts through an atmosphere of fleeting joys. Children camp by the river, sharing simple meals and laughter. The night opens with the quiet wonder of watching stars, a camera capturing the tenderness of a daughter looking at her mother.
It is all so gentle that the shadow hanging over Lee Hyo-ri’s life almost fades from view. Love, Take Two lulls us into forgetting, only to bring the weight back in sudden moments of unease.
This chapter circles around mothers in every form. Love, Take Two brings the return of a woman who may or may not be Ji-an’s long-lost mother, the memory of a baseball career cut short followed by parental abandonment, the visit of a divorced mother stepping back into her child’s world, and the fragile yet luminous bond between Hyo-ri and Ji-an.
What begins with small pleasures ends with collapse and revelation, reminding us that beauty and pain share the same frame.
Mothers as presence and ghost
Love, Take Two plants its heart in the figure of mothers, whether present, absent, or haunting the edges of memory. Ji-an faces the sudden appearance of an elderly woman who claims to be her mother, though Ji-an has long believed she died two decades ago after leaving for Vietnam with a man, thus abandoning her. The uncertainty of this return opens an old wound, leaving us unsure if this is reunion or delusion.
The theme stretches wider through the village. In Love, Take Two episode 5, one of the residents, a former baseball player, recalls how his mother abandoned him when his career collapsed, leaving him to spiral into alcoholism.
His pain is not only personal but cultural, echoing the weight of Korean families where love is tied to success and children are forced to carry the dreams of their parents.
His story sits in restrained counterpoint to the warmth of the campfire, showing how the absence of a mother shapes identity just as much as her presence.

Small pleasures under the stars
The middle of Love, Take Two episode 5 leans into stillness and comfort. The children set up camp by the water, cooking simple food, laughing, and running under the trees.
Ji-an and Hyo-ri share a moment of wonder as they gaze at the stars, the camera capturing both the sky above and the tenderness of a mother’s presence, fold into this pocket of serenity where time seems suspended.
It is in this setting that Ryu Jeong-seok, the architect, speaks the line that shapes the entire episode:
“While you live here, rely on nature and people.”
His words carry the weight of wisdom, but also the vulnerability of someone who has seen how fragile family ties can be. Love, Take Two anchors its themes in this reminder, showing how nature and community can be as sustaining as family.
The weight of family expectations
Beyond the soft glow of the campfire, Love, Take Two brings a harder truth. The villager who once lived as a rising baseball player embodies the cruelty of conditional love. His talent had once been the family’s pride, but when the career collapsed, so did the affection of the mother who had pinned her life on his success.
Her abandonment left him adrift. With the cheers gone and the family bond severed, he turned to alcohol as both rebellion and resignation. His pain is not framed as display but as the brutal ruin of a man who knows that his worth was measured only by victories on the field.
This is not only a personal downfall. Love, Take Two reflects a wider wound within society, where children are burdened with the unfinished dreams of their parents. Success is treated as obligation, and failure becomes a family shame. The cost of such pressure is written into every broken relationship, and every silence that stretches across dinner tables.
By weaving this subplot into episode 5, Love, Take Two allows the weight of family expectation to resonate beyond one character. In the same village where laughter rises under the stars, adults stumble through lives shaped by demands they never chose. Rebuilding a home here is not just about wood and stone but about facing the ghosts of family and the scars left behind.
A night that ends in shadows in Love, Take Two
The softness of Love, Take Two episode 5 cannot hold forever. As Ji-an and Hyo-ri take photos under the stars, the tenderness of the moment is pierced by the reminder of Hyo-ri’s illness. A faint ringing interrupts the calm, her body falters, and she collapses. The frame that seemed filled with light turns suddenly heavy.
The cliffhanger does not rest only on her fall. Back at the house, the architect’s ex-wife arrives, the mother of his child stepping once again into the family’s orbit. Her presence unsettles the fragile balance he has tried to protect, adding another thread to the story of mothers and their lasting power.
By the end, Love, Take Two episode 5, My Love from the Sad Star, leaves its characters in a tangle of uncertainty. Every mother who appears carries both comfort and rupture, each one reminding us that family is both shelter and wound. The beauty of the stars is still there, but it is edged with the shadows of what tomorrow will demand.
Rating with a touch of flair: Four falling stars that shine for a moment before the darkness pulls them down.
A beautiful night of laughter, camping, and quiet wonder, cut by the weight of mothers returning, abandoning, haunting, and holding on. Love, Take Two leaves us dazzled, then reminds us that joy here is always shadowed by pain.