In the sun-soaked drama of forbidden desires and family feuds, Prime Video’s Culpa Nuestra—translated as Our Fault—dropped its explosive finale on October 16, capping off the Culpables trilogy with a gut-wrenching cocktail of coma-induced despair, a secret pregnancy reveal, and a reunion that has fans worldwide divided between sobs of joy and frustration. What was meant to be the heartbreaking end to Nick Leister (Gabriel Guevara) and Noah Morgan’s (Nicole Wallace) star-crossed saga instead morphs into a phoenix-like rebirth, thrusting the step-siblings into marriage, parenthood, and a hard-fought happily-ever-after. But as social media erupts with debates—”best closure ever” versus “rushed disaster”—one thing’s clear: This ending doesn’t just close the book; it rewrites the rules of redemption in YA romance adaptations.

The Culpables phenomenon, born from Mercedes Ron’s Wattpad sensation that ballooned into a global print hit, has always thrived on high-octane tension. Starting with My Fault in 2023, which clocked 28 million views in its debut week on Prime Video, the series chronicled Noah’s relocation to the opulent Leister estate after her mother’s marriage to William Leister (Iván Sánchez), thrusting her into a volatile orbit with bad-boy stepbrother Nick. Their chemistry—fueled by underground races, heated clashes, and undeniable pull—ignited a franchise that blended Twilight‘s supernatural allure with The Fault in Our Stars‘ emotional gut-punches. Your Fault (2024) escalated the stakes with betrayals and a surprise pregnancy tease, setting the stage for Our Fault‘s do-or-die climax. Directed once more by Domingo González, the 107-minute film condenses Ron’s 448-page novel into a whirlwind of revelations, but not without sacrificing depth that has book purists up in arms.

The plot barrels forward four years after Your Fault, with Noah, now 21, carving out independence in a tech firm under the steady hand of boyfriend Simon (Javi Hidalgo), a pragmatic contrast to Nick’s chaos. Nick, meanwhile, has settled into his grandfather’s business empire, dating the calculating Sofia (Gabriela Andrada), whose envy simmers like a pot about to boil over. Their paths collide at the wedding of friends Jenna (Serena Orihuela) and Lion (Álvaro Rico), where stolen moments reignite old flames. A post-ceremony hookup leaves Noah reeling, but Nick’s cold rejection—still scarred by past deceptions—sends her fleeing to Santander for a fresh start. Enter the pregnancy bombshell: Noah discovers she’s carrying Nick’s child but keeps it buried, fearing it’ll chain her to a toxic cycle.

Director González amplifies the emotional vertigo with lush cinematography—golden-hour beaches giving way to stormy confrontations—that mirrors the couple’s internal storms. Nicole Wallace, 23, channels Noah’s evolution from impulsive teen to resilient mother-to-be with a raw vulnerability, her wide-eyed defiance cracking under grief’s weight. “Noah’s not just fighting for love; she’s fighting for her future,” Wallace shared in a post-release Variety interview, emphasizing the character’s agency amid the melodrama. Guevara, equally compelling at 23, imbues Nick with brooding redemption arcs, his tattooed intensity softening in rare tender beats. Off-screen rumors of their feud—sparked during Your Fault‘s shoot—only heighten the irony, as their on-screen sparks fly hotter than ever, turning potential awkwardness into meta magic.

But the film’s pivot—the one flipping the trilogy “upside down,” as fans put it—hits like a freight train: betrayal, blackout, and birth. Simon, revealed as Noah’s former teacher with a predatory edge, spirals into blackmail after his firing, teaming with vengeful Briar (Elvira Cuadrupani), who lost her own child and eyes Noah’s baby with desperate malice. Nick, piecing together Noah’s secret via Jenna, chases her down in a pulse-pounding sequence that screams classic romance tropes. He vows commitment—”the kid’s mine or not, you’re it for me”—but fate intervenes cruelly. A shooter, hired by the duplicitous Michael (Noah’s ex with a grudge), guns Nick down mid-confession, plunging him into a three-month coma. Noah, isolated and terrified, gives birth alone, her waters breaking in a montage of quiet agony that underscores the series’ unflinching gaze on single motherhood’s toll.

This coma subplot, drawn loosely from Ron’s novel but amplified for screen drama, is the lightning rod for fan frenzy. On X, #CulpaNuestra exploded with over 1.2 million mentions in the first 72 hours, blending euphoria and exasperation. “How Nick and Noah look at each other PLEASE THEY LITERALLY GOT THEIR HAPPY ENDING 💞,” gushed @wallacesluv, capturing the swoon-worthy gaze that had viewers pausing mid-scene. Yet, backlash flooded in: @ruggescurls vented, “Nick se perdió el nacimiento de su hijo???? NO LO ACEPTO!!” (Nick missed his son’s birth???? I DON’T ACCEPT IT!!), echoing widespread gripes about the rushed timeline. Reddit’s r/romancemovies thread devolved into a 75-comment warzone, with users slamming the pregnancy as “forced” and the coma as “pointless plot filler” that robs the audience of intimate growth moments. “Everything felt rushed and just placed randomly,” one top-voted post lamented, highlighting how the film’s brevity skips Noah’s prenatal struggles and Nick’s recovery rehab, condensing months into montages.

Critics aren’t kinder. Mashable dubbed it “exhausting,” a relief for non-fans that the “screaming, crying, s*x, betrayal” cycle ends, but a slog for its predictability. DMTalkies went nuclear: “The whole pregnancy thing is so badly done… Why does such a young woman have to end up pregnant?” pointing to dated tropes that sideline Noah’s autonomy for a baby-driven HEA. Europeans24 noted book fans’ fury over minimized emotional beats, like the birth’s “severely minimized” impact, turning what should be a transformative arc into a checklist. Even High On Films critiqued the “soft porn impulses” dressed in lavish visuals, arguing the coma steals thunder from the couple’s organic reconciliation.

Yet, for the trilogy’s die-hards—millions strong, per Prime Video’s “record-breaking” metrics—these flaws fade against the finale’s redemptive glow. Nick awakens to chaos: Briar attempts a kidnapping, thwarted in a tense standoff that nods to the series’ action roots. Reeling from his brush with death, he confronts his demons—resentment toward his absent father, fear of vulnerability—and chooses Noah unequivocally. Their wedding, a sun-dappled beach affair with Lyndy-level innocence (subbed in by the couple’s newborn son), seals the deal. Flash-forwards show them co-parenting amid ranch sunsets, a visual shorthand for enduring love. “Fans rejoice over Nick-Noah’s reunion,” Telegraph India reported, quoting X users hailing it as the “best possible trilogy.” @alwaysleister captured the tears: “EL HAPPY ENDING DE ELLOS 😭,” while @Leticia51008687 mixed indignation with awe: “Nick quisiera estar con Noah antes de saber del embarazo es increíble!” (Nick wanting to be with Noah before knowing about the pregnancy is incredible!).

This polarization underscores Culpables‘ cultural footprint: a Wattpad-to-streaming success story that’s grossed over $50 million in global merch and spin-off buzz alone. Ron, in a Remezcla sit-down, defended the ending’s optimism: “Guilt isn’t the end—it’s the forge for something unbreakable.” The film’s soundtrack, laced with Abraham Mateo’s “Quiero Decirte” cameo, amplifies this, blending indie angst with triumphant pop. Supporting turns add layers—Rico’s Lion as comic relief, Hazas’ Sofia thawing into reluctant ally—elevating the ensemble beyond leads.

But does the “heartbreaking rebirth” stick the landing? For newcomers, it’s a bingeable balm in a trope-heavy genre, outshining rivals like Through My Window with authentic Spanish flair and diverse stakes (queer side arcs via Lion). Book loyalists, however, see betrayal: Deviations like Noah’s infidelity framing (toned-down from the novel’s darker assault implications) and Simon’s villain arc feel sanitized for mass appeal. India TV called it “satisfying and cliché,” a fair cop—love conquers via bullet wounds and bassinets, but at what cost to nuance? OTTplay highlighted the “sizzling chemistry” trumping flaws, with netizens “all hearts” for the baby reveal.

As Our Fault climbs Prime Video charts—projected to top My Fault‘s numbers—the trilogy’s legacy hinges on this divide. It validates fanfic-fueled dreams, proving forbidden flames can flicker eternal, yet exposes adaptation pitfalls: Time jumps that teleport past pain, sidelining the gritty rebirth for glossy resolution. @emiliacupido summed the frenzy: “TEM FRASES ENGRAÇADAS… UM LIXO o mano em coma” (funny lines… trash the guy in coma), a bilingual badge of its chaotic charm. Ron’s hinted spin-offs (Jenna and Lion?) tease more, but for Nick and Noah, the fault lines have healed—or at least scarred beautifully.

In a streaming sea of sequels, Culpa Nuestra reminds us: Endings aren’t finales; they’re echoes. Whether you’re reeling in rapture or rage, one chase scene at a time, this rebirth cements the saga as unforgettably flawed.