I was genuinely upset watching season two of The Chestnut Man on Netflix.
Not because it was badly written. Not because the suspense failed. And not because the show somehow betrayed its audience. I was upset because my romance-reader brain saw emotional promises the story was never actually making.
When Naia died, the romantic in me felt disappointed almost immediately. Main characters, especially romantically involved main characters, are not supposed to die in romance. That goes against the emotional structure romance readers are trained to expect. Then, after sitting with that feeling for a while, I realized something important:
I had misread the genre.
The Chestnut Man was never romantic suspense. It was a suspense series with romantic elements.
And those are not the same thing.
Romance readers approach stories differently than thriller readers do.
That is not a criticism of either genre. It is simply the emotional contract each genre makes with its audience.
In romance, emotional suffering is expected. Trauma is expected. Conflict is expected. Sometimes characters even die. But not the central couple. Not the relationship the story has emotionally trained us to invest in. Romance readers expect a HEA or at least a HFN because that is part of the genre promise.
We are conditioned to believe emotional devastation will eventually lead to emotional reward.
Thriller readers are trained differently. In thrillers and suspense stories, danger is real. Death is possible. Emotional attachment does not equal narrative protection. Sometimes the person the protagonist loves dies. Sometimes the protagonist dies. Sometimes the ending is bittersweet or tragic.
That uncertainty is part of the experience.
As a romance reader and writer, I sometimes jokingly call my books fairytales for adults. The ending may be predictable, but how the characters get there rarely is. Readers are not reading romance because they want surprise deaths and emotional hopelessness. They are reading for connection, healing, intimacy, vulnerability, hope, and emotional satisfaction.
And yes, maybe even emotional safety.
What made The Chestnut Man emotionally confusing for me was not the death itself. It was the setup.
Mark and Naia became involved in season one. At the end, Mark left. Then he returned in season two, clearly still carrying unresolved feelings for her.
To a romance reader, that feels incredibly familiar.
Those are romance-coded signals.
Romance readers are trained to interpret those elements as the beginning of reconciliation. We instinctively assume emotional intimacy is leading somewhere because in romance, it usually is.
That does not mean the creators of The Chestnut Man intentionally misled viewers. The show was never marketed as romance or romantic suspense. The trailers and blurbs stayed focused on the investigation and suspense elements.
Still, chemistry matters.
When writers create strong emotional tension between characters, audiences will naturally start building expectations around that connection, especially romance readers. Longing and emotional vulnerability are powerful storytelling tools, and they can accidentally shift how part of the audience experiences a story.
I think newer writers sometimes struggle with the distinction between these categories because on the surface they can contain many of the same ingredients.
A romance subplot can exist in almost any genre. It may support the story, add emotional depth, or humanize the characters, but it is not the central focus.
Romantic suspense is different.
In romantic suspense, the relationship drives the story. The characters meet, clash, resist each other, fall into danger together, and slowly develop trust, desire, intimacy, and love while facing an external threat. The suspense plot pressures the romance forward. The emotional arc matters just as much as solving the mystery or stopping the villain. The couple slays the proverbial dragon and earns their HEA.
Suspense with romantic elements works differently.
In those stories, the suspense is the story. The characters matter because we need to connect with them emotionally, but the relationship is not the core narrative promise. Attraction may exist. Chemistry may exist. Love may even exist. But the story is not ultimately about emotional fulfillment through the relationship.
That was my mistake with The Chestnut Man.
I emotionally interpreted the relationship as central when the show never truly treated it that way.
One thing I find interesting as a romance writer is how important narrative focus becomes in romance specifically.
In many genres, POV structure does not matter nearly as much. But in romance, dual POV is almost essential for me as both a reader and writer because romance readers want emotional intimacy from everybody involved in the relationship.
We want access to
Romance is not simply about watching two people end up together. It is about understanding why they choose each other despite everything standing in their way.
That emotional reciprocity matters.
Even when a romantic suspense plot is incredibly strong, the relationship itself still remains emotionally central. The suspense supports the romance as much as the romance supports the suspense.
That balance is one reason I think authors like Nora Roberts do romantic suspense so incredibly well.
One criticism romance often receives is that the endings are predictable.
Honestly? Maybe they are.
But every genre has conventions.
That does not make the journey meaningless.
If anything, knowing the destination allows romance readers to fully invest in the emotional experience without fear the story will punish them for caring too deeply about the relationship.
The ending may be predictable. How the characters get there is not. And that difference matters. If you love romantic suspense where the relationship is just as important as the danger, check out my Doms in Uniform series.
In the end, I still enjoyed The Chestnut Man. I still think the emotional connection between Mark and Naia was compelling. But now I understand why her death hit me so hard. I was not watching as a thriller fan. I was watching as a romance reader looking for hope. And maybe that is the real lesson here for writers:
Genres are not just marketing categories. They are emotional contracts with the audience.