Our Universe- Episodes 1-2
When Grief Opens the Door to Something Unexpected
I had been counting down the days for Our Universe to finally air, and yet I hesitated before pressing play. I knew this wasn’t going to be a lighthearted love story. The romance would be born from heartbreak, and I’m not someone who easily signs up for tragedy. But then there was that sweet little baby in the teasers, and somehow that tiny face convinced me to be brave.
Episode 1 gently introduces us to Woo Hyun-jin and Sun Tae-hyung, two young people quietly carrying their own burdens. Hyun-jin works tirelessly as a food delivery driver, chasing stability that always seems just out of reach. She shares a warm dinner with her older sister, Hyun-joo, who reassures her that a full-time job will come soon. There’s such tenderness in their bond. You can feel how deeply Hyun-jin leans on her sister’s belief in her.
When Hyun-jin discovers an engagement ring in Hyun-joo’s purse, it feels like a secret too big to keep. She goes straight to the police station to confront Sun Woo-jin, her sister’s boyfriend, who works there. But instead of anger, she offers her blessing. It’s such a protective, sisterly moment. She wants things to be official, proper, filled with dignity for Hyun-joo.
Meanwhile, Tae-hyung’s world is unraveling in a different way. At a club gathering with his team, his boss makes cruel remarks about his past, about growing up in an orphanage and lacking a degree. The humiliation is sharp. Drunk and hurt, Tae-hyung quits on the spot. It’s a rash decision, but you can’t help understanding his pride. Of course, pride doesn’t pay the bills. Soon he’s facing financial strain and reluctantly considering selling the few beautiful, branded pieces in his apartment.
One of those items is a wall lamp. The same wall lamp Hyun-jin has been eyeing in a magazine as a wedding gift for her sister. It’s too expensive new, so when Tae-hyung lists his on an app called Pimang, fate quietly nudges them together.
Their first meeting is anything but romantic. Hyun-jin tries to bargain. Tae-hyung is already frustrated with life. Words are exchanged, tempers flare, and in the chaos the lamp’s bulb shatters. They part on terrible terms. Yet in a twist that feels almost poetic, Hyun-jin accidentally leaves her phone behind. Through her photos and messages, Tae-hyung realizes something shocking: her sister is marrying his estranged brother.
The flashbacks hit hard. We see a young Tae-hyung crying as his older brother walks away. Later, we learn that Woo-jin once celebrated Tae-hyung’s birthday, bought him a camera and new shoes, then left him at an orphanage with a promise to return. That promise was never fulfilled. When Tae-hyung crashes the family meeting, accusing his brother of abandonment, the pain feels raw and unresolved. He storms out, severing ties once more.
Life moves forward anyway. Hyun-joo and Woo-jin marry. Tae-hyung doesn’t attend. Three years pass. Tae-hyung abandons photography for a corporate job and finally achieves financial stability, even buying his own apartment. Hyun-jin, on the other hand, continues to struggle professionally, once again missing out on a full-time position. When her sister suggests she move back home, Hyun-jin hears doubt instead of concern and storms off. It’s one of those small, human misunderstandings that feels painfully real.
And then tragedy strikes without warning. Woo-jin learns his father is being released from prison. He and Hyun-joo get into the car, and a truck collision takes both their lives. The shift in tone is devastating. The funeral scenes are heavy with silence and disbelief. Hyun-jin’s grief is palpable. Tae-hyung arrives too, and it is there that he meets Woo-joo, the little boy who has just lost everything.
In the aftermath, when Hyun-jin suffers a ligament injury, Tae-hyung unexpectedly steps up as chief mourner and temporarily cares for Woo-joo. It’s a quiet, reluctant act of responsibility. But when custody is raised, Tae-hyung refuses to entangle himself further with his brother’s life. Hyun-jin, despite her own heartbreak and uncertainty, chooses to raise Woo-joo.
The episode closes with Tae-hyung walking away, leaving Hyun-jin and the child behind.
It’s a beginning steeped in sorrow, but also in possibility. There’s something so deeply human about these two wounded people being tied together by a little boy who deserves love. As much as my heart aches for the loss, I can already feel the fragile threads connecting them. If love is going to bloom here, it won’t be flashy or instant. It will be slow, reluctant, and earned.
Learning to Breathe Again, One Mess at a Time
Episode 2 of Our Universe feels like that fragile space after a storm, when everything is still damp with grief but life quietly insists on moving forward.
Hyun-jin returns to her sister’s home with little Woo-joo, and my heart honestly broke watching her step into that room Hyun-joo had prepared for her. It’s such a tender, painful moment. She’s surrounded by traces of her sister’s love, and all she can think about are the harsh words they exchanged before the accident. Regret feels so heavy in scenes like this. And yet, in the middle of that sorrow, her phone buzzes with unexpected hope. BS Food has moved her application to the interview stage. It feels like the smallest light in a very dark week.
Meanwhile, Tae-hyung is coping in his own way, nursing his guilt with his friend Eui-joon. He confesses that Woo-jin had tried to call him just before the accident, even texting that they needed to talk about something important. The weight of that missed call lingers over him. You can see how deeply unresolved everything still is.
Back at Hyun-jin’s place, reality sets in quickly. Parenting is not a graceful montage of cuddles and laughter. With the help of her friend Se-yeon from BS Food, Hyun-jin begins to understand just how exhausting and chaotic caring for a child can be. At the same time, Tae-hyung is busy overseeing renovations for his new apartment, trying to build a life that feels stable and controlled.
At BS Food, we meet Team Leader Park Yoon-sung, who makes quite the impression. He wins over company directors with an elaborate dish and uses his performance to secure approvals for new projects. When he scans the list of interview candidates and recognizes Hyun-jin, you can’t help but feel a small ripple of fate at work again.
Interview day arrives, and of course nothing goes smoothly. Se-yeon, who was supposed to watch Woo-joo, is suddenly sent to Busan for work. Hyun-jin scrambles for a sitter and, in desperation, texts Tae-hyung that she’s giving up the child. It’s a dramatic message, but really it’s the cry of a woman overwhelmed. Tae-hyung rushes over, and after some pleading and stubborn back-and-forth, he agrees to watch Woo-joo for a few hours.
That few hours becomes a disaster.
Tae-hyung ends up taking Woo-joo to his place so he can answer a work call, and the little boy proceeds to turn the apartment upside down. When Woo-joo knocks Tae-hyung’s phone into the street, his patience snaps. In pure frustration, he brings Woo-joo straight to the BS Food office. The scene that follows is chaotic and painfully embarrassing for Hyun-jin. The tension spills outside, and in the middle of their argument, Woo-joo runs straight into a fountain. Soaked and shaken, they retrieve him, and Tae-hyung declares firmly that he will not see either of them again.
Of course, this is Our Universe. Nothing is that simple.
Tae-hyung’s brand-new phone lights up with frantic messages from his contractor. Because of the extra renovations he requested, his new apartment has flooded. It won’t be ready for another month. His current lease is ending. Suddenly, the man who swore he was done has nowhere to go.
The next day, a moving truck appears at Hyun-jin’s apartment complex. Tae-hyung steps out, fully prepared to move in. He reminds her of her earlier comment about raising Woo-joo together and presents the damage Woo-joo caused in his studio, amounting to over five million won. It’s money Hyun-jin simply doesn’t have. Reluctantly, she agrees.
And surprisingly, their arrangement begins to work.
The house feels cleaner. More structured. Tae-hyung is unexpectedly capable, and Hyun-jin finally receives her official acceptance from BS Food. It’s such a satisfying moment, especially after watching her struggle for so long. Tae-hyung even encourages her to celebrate with Se-yeon while he stays home with Woo-joo. It’s sweet, though we can see he also has practical motives. If he proves himself helpful, she might let him stay.
After talking things through with Se-yeon, Hyun-jin realizes that having Tae-hyung help care for Woo-joo while she settles into her new job might actually be the most stable option. That evening, they sit down and draft a roommate agreement like two slightly awkward adults trying to make sense of an impossible situation. Tae-hyung will care for Woo-joo during the day. Expenses and chores will be split evenly.
It’s not romantic. It’s not dramatic. It’s two grieving people trying to build something functional out of broken pieces.
And somehow, that feels like the most honest kind of beginning.
DramaZen's Opinion
A Tender Beginning Wrapped in Heartbreak
The first two episodes of Our Universe are such an emotional whirlwind, but in the most beautifully grounded way. What I love most is how the drama doesn’t rush anything. It lets the grief sit with you. Hyun-jin’s regret over her last argument with her sister feels painfully real, and Tae-hyung’s unresolved anger toward his brother adds this quiet heaviness that lingers in every scene.
The tragedy is devastating, but it never feels manipulative. Instead, it gently pushes these two wounded people into the same orbit. Their first meetings are awkward, tense, even frustrating at times, but that’s exactly what makes it believable. There’s no instant romance here. Just two adults trying to survive something unimaginable while raising a little boy who deserves stability and love.
Woo-joo completely steals the show. His chaos, innocence, and tiny moments of sweetness soften the heaviness of the story. And watching Hyun-jin and Tae-hyung slowly figure out how to coexist under one roof is both messy and oddly comforting.
If the rest of the series continues like this, with slow-burn growth and emotional honesty, I have a feeling this is going to be one of those dramas that quietly stays with me long after it ends.
