Critics have noted that her on-screen relationships serve as a manual for healthy masculinity. Her characters allow the man to be weak—to cry, to ask for help, to say "I don’t know what I’m doing." In return, her female characters offer strength without condescension. It is a transactional relationship of vulnerabilities, which is perhaps why viewers find it so aspirational. No article about Khushi Mukherjee’s Sunday relationships would be complete without mentioning the visual grammar. Her storylines come with a specific color palette: oatmeal sweaters, white linen sheets, sunlight filtering through sheer curtains, and the golden haze of 5:30 PM.
And for millions of viewers scrolling through their phones every Sunday evening, looking for a reason to believe in love again, that promise is enough. "Love isn't the grand gesture. Love is choosing the same person every Sunday until the Sundays run out." – Khushi Mukherjee, Interview with OTTplay, 2024.
This aesthetic has birthed a fashion and interior design trend among her fans, dubbed "Sunday Sad Girl Chic." Yet, it is never depressing. The sadness in a Khushi Mukherjee romance is a warm sadness—the kind you feel when you finish a really good book. It is nostalgia for a moment that is still happening. Of course, not everyone is a fan. Some critics argue that Mukherjee’s romantic storylines, while beautiful, promote a "Sunday-only" approach to love that isn't sustainable. Real relationships, they argue, happen on dreary Wednesdays. They happen with bad breath in the morning and unpaid bills on the table.