
![[ENG DUB] Forget Me Not, My Wild Girl](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Finley Sharpe, a fish vendor, enters a contract marriage with Yale Shaw. By spreading rumors and flattering him,she wins his trust and affection. But just after they confess their love,a head injury restores Finley's lost memories—while erasing all memories of Yale. Desperate to win her back, Yale pulls every trick he can think of... even pretending to be blind.

Yara Sharp, born into a wealthy family and raised in comfort,marries Trent, a charming and successful man. For five years, their marriage appears perfect. But one day, Yara discovers a shocking truth: their marriage certificate is fake. Her marriage has been a total lie, and Trent's legal wife is actually someone else.

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post. This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.

We had been dating for ten years before my boyfriend, Shawn Jepson, agreed to marry me. When the wedding photographer asked us to pose a few kissing shots, Shawn claimed he had germophobia and walked out on me. I awkwardly apologized to the team. Taxis were a rare commodity during blizzards, so I trudged through the snow to get home. To my dismay, I stumbled upon Shawn tongue-deep into his crush’s throat in what was supposed to be our marital home. “Just say the word, Casey, and I’ll leave Jessica.” Later, word went around that Shawn searched the world for his ex-fiancee, begging her to return.

To fund her mother's grave, Selena decided on a flash marriage, inadvertently marrying James Monroe, who was also in a rush and suffered from pollen allergy. They agreed to divorce in two years. As the term neared, Selena interned at James's company, and after an unexpectedly intimate encounter, they realized their mutual affection. Upon discovering her pregnancy, Selena found out her boss was her husband. James, realizing she was his wife, pursued her passionately. At their wedding, Selena marveled at the transformation from boss to husband.

Amelia is deliberately hit by a scheming woman. Lying injured in hospital, she sees her husband neglect her cruelly and tend to her attacker instead. Broken-hearted, she chooses a life-saving surgery that wipes out all her memories, leaving her painful marriage and past behind. Her husband only realizes his irreversible loss when it is too late.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

It was on our wedding night when my husband stole my heartblood to save his childhood sweetheart. His lips were on my forehead as his dagger carved my chest open. "Good girl. This is the last time, I promise," he breathed bewitchingly, his scalding tears dripping on my skin. "Once she's better, let's consummate our marriage." That was what he said, but I had heard it countless times before. In my despair, I used my last ounce of strength to tug on his sleeve. He urgently drained my blood to save another woman, not even looking my way as he did. What he didn't know was that it was my last drop of heartblood. And I was going to die.

Three years into my fake death, my wife and daughter showed up at my door. To get rid of them, I grabbed a knife and threatened to end my life. Then my seven-year-old daughter put her hand on my father's ventilator. Claire Harrison stood beside her, her voice trembling as she delivered her ultimatum. "Wesley, either you see your father suffocate to death, or you come back and be my husband again. Your choice." I was shaking with rage, but I put down the knife and remarried her. Walking back into that familiar villa, I became the Harrison family's model "devoted husband and father." When my foster brother needed her company because he was feeling down, I cleared out and booked myself a hotel. I ended up with a perforated ulcer, went into surgery, and never once called her. When my daughter got picky and said she only wanted her uncle's cooking, I went straight to Dylan's place and brought him back to live with us. Even on my birthday, when Dylan suddenly started crying and said, "I'm so jealous of you, Wesley. You've got such a wonderful wife and kid. Me? I've never even gotten a decent birthday present," I didn't hesitate—I slid the onyx bead bracelet off my wrist and pressed it into his hand. The deep black beads gleamed against his pale skin. But Claire's eyes went red. She grabbed my wrist, her voice sharp as a blade. "Wesley, that was the love token I prayed for you—step by step on my knees—all the way across the Mojave."