We Were Liars Season 1, Episode 5 Review: ‘Lying Together In A Silver Lining’

I’ve always hated storms.

They’re loud. They’re chaotic. They’re burdensome. And the thing is—not all storms come from the sky. Some are in the conversations we avoid, the lies we tell, the truths we bury. Whether it’s thunder or tension, I’ve never cared where a storm comes from—I just know I want to run from them all.

In We Were Liars, storms are everywhere. The atmospheric ones raging over the island and the Vineyard, and the quiet, insidious ones brewing inside the Sinclair family. This story isn’t just about weather—it’s about privilege, secrets, and the war between truth and lies.

I’ve always hated storms. They carry a heavy burden—chaotic, loud, impossible to ignore. But not all storms come from the sky. Some swirl around us in arguments, secrets, and unspoken truths. And honestly, it’s never mattered to me where the storm comes from—I hate them all.

We Were Liars embraces both types of storms: the literal ones in the atmosphere and the metaphorical ones born from the Sinclair family’s privilege. They’re constantly at war with the truth, with lies, and with themselves. Their sins are deep, their deception runs rampant, and the truth? That’s just another secret to be buried.

The Liars want more—not just for themselves, but for the family. They want to know what comes after the storm, the ones they face and the ones they refuse to name. In the end, all they have is what remains once the chaos subsides.

Surviving, you see, is the silver lining.

WAKE UP CADENCE

Last time we left off, Cadence had a seizure. Everyone is worried, but she hasn’t truly woken up—not emotionally, not mentally. She’s struggling. And so is Penny, who’s caught between protecting her daughter, a divorce that we all don’t understand, and figuring out how to help Cadence and use it to get in her father’s good graces..

Penny thinks of Penny first.

In the Sinclair family, you’re not supposed to struggle—not openly. But Cadence is, and so is Johnny. He’s haunted by the last things he said to his cousin, wondering if she’ll be okay.

Yet, one of the best things about family is forgiveness. You may not like what someone’s done, but you forgive them. Seeing Johnny and Cadence forgive each other meant something.

Her jumping off a cliff, with Johnny and Gat diving in to save her? That’s another story entirely.

Cadence doesn’t want to remember Summer 16, but the memories are surfacing—secrets she kept and stories she was told. She wants to know what happened to her, and no one is giving her that grace.

And as she steps into Summer 17, there’s something beautiful about her coming into her own. No one wants to give her the truth, so she’s taking a new path—on her own. Watching her independence grow is powerful. I know it will be what makes her solve the mystery of what happened to her.

WE ALL MISS ED

A storm’s hitting the Vineyard, and with it comes inevitable chaos. The Sinclairs trapped together in one place? Terrifying.

But there’s something about storms. When you’re faced with the worst, you’re forced to figure out what matters.

Ed left after Carrie said no to his proposal. I respect his choice. But I don’t think it’s fair that she never told him why. I get the prestige of the Sinclair name—but is it really more important than love? Than happiness? Ed deserves honesty. He’s still in town, but he’s on the outside now.

I wish Carrie would let him in. He loves her. Harris might want secrets kept, but at some point, you have to trust the people you love. Carrie needs to choose between being a Sinclair and being happy. I think she thinks she has—but she’s drawn the wrong line.

She refuses to let Johnny talk to Ed—another selfish moment. Johnny’s father isn’t in his life. Ed is the father figure he knows. And now Carrie’s taking that away. I’m not saying she should stay in a relationship she doesn’t want, but she does love Ed.

LUNCH CONVERSATIONS

There are things you say at the table—and things you don’t. Harris Sinclair and his daughters don’t seem to know the difference. Harris is tallying their assets, taking stock of their wealth, while the sisters argue over who gets what.

Harris is ruthless. I don’t pretend to understand him. Maybe losing Rosemary changed him. Maybe he loved Tipper so deeply that he’s stunned by the things she kept from him.

The sisters bicker constantly. Instead of mourning their mother, they’re fighting over her things. It’s unsettling.

And then there’s Harris’s racist remarks—and his anger when Cadence calls him out. It’s clear she’s growing. She doesn’t want to be like him, and that’s a good thing.

There are things that you talk about at the dinner table and things you don’t. Harris Sinclair and his daughters don’t understand that concept. Harris is taking stock of everything – assessing what they own. The daughters don’t know when to just be quiet.

SAVING THEM

The storm is approaching, and Harris sends the boys to tie down the boats.

Johnny and Gat have a dynamic I admire. They’re so different, yet somehow, they balance each other out. They see each other’s flaws and still choose to show up. They argue, they clash—but they respect each other. Best friends, even when they act like enemies.

While securing the boats, they notice one is missing—and so is Will. He’s taken the canoe to reach Ed.

Johnny steps up, revealing a side we don’t always see—protective, vulnerable. He and Gat race off to save Will.

I’m not ashamed to admit I cried when Johnny jumped in to save his brother. He gets Will to safety, but exhausts himself in the process. And Gat, without hesitation, jumps in after him.

It shouldn’t matter who saves whom. What matters is that the Liars are there for one another. Johnny and Gat need each other. They mess up, but they make it work.

I don’t understand why Harris’s approval still matters so much.

The Coast Guard rescues them, and Ed’s with them. My heart broke watching him walk in, only to leave again. Johnny and Will are his sons, too. He deserves the truth. He deserves a seat at the table.

LIGHTHOUSE

I love that we’re getting more of Merrin. She brings a unique energy to the story—one that’s often overlooked.

She’s not like her cousins, and that makes her feel alone. But the truth is, people do feel invisible. Seen, but not acknowledged. All they want is to be seen for real. Mirren just wants that.

Mirren has always felt like the spare. The extra Sinclair cousin. Not quite Cadence, not quite Johnny—just different. And while that difference is a good thing, it often leaves her feeling unseen.

So when Edon helps her with her art, it’s powerful. It’s vulnerable. It’s a breakthrough. For the first time, we see Mirren begin to trust someone. And it’s beautiful to watch her creativity flourish because of it.

Cadence tells Penny about Salty Dan and Bess. And even though the confession wasn’t meant to harm anyone, it sends shockwaves through the family. Penny reacts instantly, threatening Bess, basically saying, “Throw Cadence under the bus again, and I will destroy you.”

And in typical Sinclair fashion, Bess doesn’t just retaliate—she obliterates. She takes it out on Mirren.

Mirren, who didn’t betray anyone.

Mirren who was just trying to have something for herself.

Bess storms into the lighthouse, confronts her daughter, and in a fit of rage, destroys her paintings. Her safe space is a place where she can’t feel safe. The whole scene is hard to watch. It also made me hate Bess.

Mirren didn’t deserve that. No one does.

It’s another reminder of what happens when power, pain, and pride collide in the Sinclair family. The adults don’t just hurt themselves—they leave wreckage in their wake. And unfortunately, this time, it was Mirren who got hurt.

And unfortunately, now, Mirren is also a suspect in our minds for whatever happened to Cadence.

STILL DON’T SHIP THESE TWO

In both Summer 16 and Summer 17, Gat and Cadence are playing a game—a slow, frustrating round of will they or won’t they. And to be honest?

I wish they wouldn’t.

I know I might be in the minority here, but I just don’t like them together. At all.

Here’s why: Gat constantly manipulates the dynamic between them. He plays the victim while making Cadence feel like she has to apologize for everything—from her name to her background to the hurt he has caused her. But the truth is, he’s the one who keeps crossing lines and keeping secrets.

And yet, he’s also the one always apologizing. It’s confusing, and it doesn’t feel sincere. Gat does say he loves her, and I believe that on some level, he does. But his love seems conditional. He doesn’t want Cadence as she is—he wants her to be someone else. Someone less Sinclair, more palatable to his worldview.

That’s not love. That’s control disguised as affection.

What’s even more painful to watch is how Cadence keeps forgiving him. Over and over. She accepts the lies. She absorbs the blame. And it’s not romantic—it’s toxic.

Their relationship doesn’t feel like two people growing together. It feels like one person shrinking to fit the other’s comfort zone. And that’s not a game anyone wins.

It’s a game that everyone loses at.

OTHER THOUGHTS

Harris running out to the water when Will is missing is a Grandpa moment I can get behind
Please don’t tell me Carrie drank! She’s 10 years sober!
I hate that Ed left.
Why did Gat want to stay and not go with his Dad?
Carrie needs to fight for her man
Bess asking her Dad to move in… that was surprising
Bess going at it again with Salty Dan wasn’t what I expected.
Penny, put down the spoon – no one needs that much pie

We Were Liars is streaming now on Prime Video.