After losing my memory, I mistakenly took my nemesis as my husband. And I even moved into his house. On the day my memories returned, I was tugging on his sleeve, demanding a kiss. The surge of recollection hit me like a tidal wave. I froze, just about to flee. Yet, the usually indifferent man merely furrowed his brows, leaned down, and placed a kiss on me. His tone was resigned: "Alright, now can you stay home like a good girl?"
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