Is 'Chasing After My Wife' Based On A True Story?

My husband regrets it after we divorced. For four years, I loved him and played the part of the perfect wife, but he treated our marriage like a contract. His heart always belonged to the woman who abandoned him on their wedding day. She returned years later, claiming she was kidnapped on her way to the wedding. My husband believed her, giving her all the attention he never gave me... and ignoring the pain, insults, and humiliation I endured from her and everyone around him. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left. Years later, I rebuild myself, rise in my career, and become someone no one can ignore. The truth about his lover’s disappearance finally comes out. Now he’s back, on his knees, begging for a second chance, but I am no longer the woman he once took for granted.

She was the daughter of his first love’s maid. When he offered her marriage, she accepted it, believing love could grow after the vows. But the marriage turned cold when a manipulated photo convinced him she had betrayed him. Accused of an affair she never committed, heartbroken and emotionally drained, she chose divorce while carrying a child he refused to believe was his. What happens when the truth finally comes out? When he realizes she was loyal all along? And when he discovers the child he rejected is his own?

Just as Emerald thought that all her hard work was paying off and Clayton was beginning to reciprocate her love, he made her sign a divorce paper the same day as their wedding anniversary and ordered her to abort their child as he can't wait to be with his first love. To keep her remaining dignity intact, Emerald signed the divorce paper and walked out of his life. The tables were turned when Clayton realized how he loves his ex - wife. A formidable man, a ferocious lion in the business world became a lovesick puppy chasing after his lost love.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

While my wife was away on a business trip, I took a detour and ran into a wedding procession blocking the road. The groom was giving a speech, his voice trembling as it rose with every sentence. He wanted to tell his late parents that he had finally married the girl of his dreams. A crowd had gathered around them, cheering him on and blocking traffic. The scene was very moving. Even though I was in a hurry, I stopped and waited for the procession to pass. Then, someone in the crowd shouted, "Sinead, you have to treat him well from now on." The bride made a sweet vow. "If I ever hurt or mistreat him, then I've gone against everything I believe in. If we're not meant to be, I'd rather remain alone, because he'll always be the only man I've ever loved." Sinead… What a coincidence! That was my wife's name, too! Even her voice sounded a little like hers. The two of them were almost sickeningly sweet together, and the crowd kept cheering. The groom bowed gratefully. Finally, everyone moved aside, and I could drive past. Only then did I see the bride clearly. It was my wife. And she had seen me, too. Her business trip had actually been a trip to marry another man.