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This scenario is painfully common. The second series of your beloved TV show premieres online, and you're brimming with anticipation. Season one ended with such precision: upcoming stories were hinted at provocatively, and a key figure faced a shocking fate – or did they?. After the season wrapped, you were perusing Reddit threads with dedicated fans to find some Easter egg clues shedding light on future developments.

And then season two’s premiere is a damp squib. It seems as if the creative team was swapped for algorithms. Cut to the second episode, a key performer makes a choice that viewers recognize as jarringly uncharacteristic. As the story progresses, the writers appear to have memory loss regarding plot points heavily emphasized earlier. By the lackluster conclusion, you long for an earlier termination.

The Pitfall of Too Many Seasons

Wishing for cancellation can only be retrospective; viewers usually oppose premature cancellations. Take Kaos, an amusing Greek myth parody featuring Jeff Goldblum, which Netflix dropped over poor ratings. Yet audiences can console themselves that their enjoyment of the series won’t have been muddied by a sophomore slump.

Reflecting on Yellowjackets, I currently desire it was a one-season story. Season one had a creatively abundant premise, and its 10 episodes were note-perfect. In 1996, a plane carrying an all-girl high school football team crashes in the middle of nowhere. Excellent actors (with Juliette Lewis, Lauren Ambrose and Sophie Thatcher) depicted the survivors in dual eras. Numerous awards recognition occurred, and the showrunners proudly announced there would be five seasons to tell the story in necessary detail. However, a season four finale was just confirmed. And as a fan, I let out a sigh of relief.

Young actors prepare for Stranger Things' next chapter.

Story decisions have weakened the core. Rather than leading with the girls’ return home, and watching how they deal with their horrific new secrets, the narrative expanded unnecessarily. A fatiguing tendency emerged of bringing in and focusing on new characters (such as Shauna’s two-dimensional daughter Callie) with minimal impact on the main narrative. It's aggravating, and witnessing a great series decline into annoyance is disheartening.

A Common Phenomenon

But it’s not only Yellowjackets. Series like Emily in Paris, House of the Dragon, Squid Game and Stranger Things have lost the shock of the new, and fallen headfirst into expected or comfortable cliches. At times, programs must stop while successful.

The thing is, there are joys to be had in a limited, “one-and-done” series. From Sharp Objects to I May Destroy You to Adolescence, writers understand when narratives find completion. However, the magic fades with series like Big Little Lies, first conceived as self-contained, come back for more and more with diminishing returns. Perhaps Adolescence's team reconsidered a second season.

The Supreme Instance

I desired Yellowjackets as a single-season show, residing permanently in our thoughts, mysteries intact. My favorite TV show of all time has played out like that. This beloved 90s drama, the quintessential youth program, concluded after a single run yet felt epic in scale: the roles were challenging and multifaceted, the filming captured a fall aesthetic, and the conversations avoided cliched adolescent writing. The conclusion provided no neat resolution, but this reflects truth appropriately of never having real, definitive answers to the open-ended questions from your teenage years. After 18 perfect episodes (and one dodgy one), I mourned its end and drafted follow-up stories to address unfinished business. Though stored on outdated technology, it demonstrates television's powerful connection.

The Sacred Bond

If TV creators can remember the sacrosanct relationship between viewers and shows, more shows can end gracefully.

• The author writes about the arts, music and fashion.