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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your top TV show drops on your platform, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended with such precision: future plotlines were teased tantalisingly, and a main character had – cliffhanger! – been offed (or had they?). During the hiatus, you were perusing Reddit threads with fellow enthusiasts to decode subtle references pointing toward upcoming twists.

But the new season opener falls flat. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. By the next installment, your favorite cast member has done something that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. By episode five, the writers appear to have memory loss regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. As the underwhelming ending arrives, you silently wish that the show had just been cancelled.

The Pitfall of Too Many Seasons

Wanting a series to end early is often late realization; audiences frequently rally against early axings. Look at Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody starring Jeff Goldblum, which was binned by Netflix due to low viewing figures. However, supporters might find comfort knowing the program avoided a disappointing second season.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I now wish it had been a limited series. The first season boasted an inventive concept, and every episode hit the right marks. Aircraft disaster leaves a teen girls' team isolated in 1996. Top-notch cast members (featuring Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) played the characters across timelines. Several prize nominations followed, creators confidently planned five seasons to develop the plot thoroughly. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. This news brought me relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

The show has made narrative choices that have undermined its heart. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and their coping with awful experiences, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. This involved a wearying pattern of highlighting added personalities (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) who did nothing for the broader story. It's aggravating, and as a viewer, it is depressing to see your favorite show morph slowly into a hate-watch.

A Common Phenomenon

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things no longer surprise audiences, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. At times, programs must stop while successful.

Indeed, pleasures exist in single-season stories. Looking at Sharp Objects, I May Destroy You, and Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. But the game is over when shows such as Big Little Lies, originally a limited series, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Maybe Adolescence's creators hesitated about continuing.

The Perfect Example

I preferred Yellowjackets as a limited run, living rent-free in our imaginations, cliffhangers and all. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. This beloved 90s drama, the perfect 90s teen dramedy, lasted for only one season but was cinematic in its scope: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the cinematography was perfectly autumnal, and the dialogue was untethered from the normal “teen speak written by a 35-year-old” trope. The ending left questions unanswered, yet this mirrors real life accurately of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. After 18 great episodes (and one mediocre), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to answer some of those questions. It might only live on an old hard drive, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

When producers honor the special viewer-program bond, more shows can end gracefully.

• Priya Elan covers entertainment and style.