When Will TXT Disband Based On Military Enlistment Schedules?

I was just picking up my spoon when he told me our marriage registration would be delayed again. "Let's do it next time," Ethan said as he put down his cutlery. His tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the pleasant weather. I took a sip of my food, chewed slowly, and swallowed. "Okay." He glanced at me, picked up his fork, and then looked at me again. "You're not angry?" I continued eating, my voice entirely flat. "No, I'm not." Our wedding ceremony had been held six months ago, but this was the seventeenth time he had postponed getting our marriage certificate. He was used to doing this. And I was used to accepting it. I finished my meal bite by bite. He didn't touch his food again. When I stood up to clear the table, he caught my wrist. "Summer, next Monday. I'll definitely be free next week," Ethan promised. "We already had our wedding anyway, a few days won't make a difference. Don't worry, I won't break my promise this time." I looked down at his hand, then looked up at him with a faint smile. "Okay." Over the past six months, he had said "next week" nine times, "definitely" thirteen times, and "don't worry" sixteen times. Yet, we still hadn't registered our marriage. And next week, it wouldn't happen either. Because this time, I would be the one breaking the promise.

I have an ability in which I can see the countdown to someone's emotional departure. The day Dad's countdown hits zero, he leaves behind divorce papers and abandons Mom and me. The day my best friend's countdown hits zero, she finally dumps her jerk of a boyfriend. I'm always terrified of seeing a countdown appear above Levi Hammond's head. But thankfully, seven years into our marriage, his head is still clear. I am thankful every day that I married a good man. However, when he picks me up from work last month, I look up and see bright red text burning into my vision. [702 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes.] That's less than two years from now. My heart clenches, and I frantically search for answers in my head. Have I done something wrong? Has he changed his mind? Things don't fall into place until our anniversary, when we run into his intern, Belinda Manning, outside his office building during a torrential downpour. She's soaked to the skin, but she still has a bright smile on her face. Levi hands her a pack of tissues to dry off, his face unreadable. However, in that instant, the countdown suddenly jumps. [327 days, 4 hours, 47 minutes.] The number of days has dropped by more than 300. The sound of rain is deafening in my ears. But I know now that I have found the reason for it.

My mother was dying. Her only wish before she passed was to see me married. For 27 days, I begged my girlfriend, Monica Teller, and she finally agreed to register for marriage with me on the 27th day. I waited at the courthouse until closing, but she never came. That same day, her childhood sweetheart, Gurney Barnes, posted their marriage certificate on social media. [Time sure flies. Three more days, and we'll have been married for a month.] It was then I finally realized that she had married her childhood sweetheart since the first day I started begging her. Not long after, an apology text from Monica buzzed on my phone. [I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Gurney's family was forcing him into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch him get shackled to a stranger. Just give it three days. We'll file for divorce. Three days later, I'll marry you." Three days later, she showed up at the courthouse in a wedding gown, But the only thing waiting for her was my message. [Goodbye, Monica. May we never meet again.]

Kyson Hale, the regimental commander, finally agrees to let me live with him on the military base. But in return, our son isn't allowed to address him as "dad". Kyson and I have been secretly married for eight years. I've taken care of his parents in the countryside for that long as well. After the death of his parents, my son, Darryl Hale, and I request Kyson to let us live with him on the military base. He agrees to our requests, but he has a condition of his own. "Once you've reached the military base, you shall declare to everyone else that you're just my relatives from the countryside." Only then do I realize that Kyson has another family of his own in the military. Some time later, I leave the army with Darryl without looking back. But Kyson, who's always been cold and distant, is alarmed by our disappearance.

Ryan Becker's favorite phrase was always, "Just wait a little longer." I waited two years for his startup to stabilize so we could get married. I waited another three years for his mother to warm up to the idea of a wedding. On the night of his 30th birthday dinner, his mother slipped her emerald bracelet off her wrist in front of everyone. Passing down the heirloom was their old tradition for recognizing a daughter-in-law. I thought that this time, finally, I wouldn't have to wait anymore. "Give me your hand, dear." Yet Aurelie Becker reached right past me and smoothly fastened the bracelet around Sabine Hansen's wrist instead. The entire room fell dead silent. She patted the back of Sabine's hand warmly. "Sabine grew up with Ryan. We're all one family here, no distinctions between us." My hands were still resting on the table, my fingertips turning cold. Someone whispered, "What about Miss Solis?" Ryan leaned in close, lowering his voice. "My mom is just being sentimental. Don't take it to heart. I'll bring you a custom necklace from my business trip next month. Just wait a little longer, okay?" Sabine lifted her wrist, flaunting it right in front of my face with a provocative smile. "Look, Eliza, isn't it beautiful? Aurelie says it's an old-mine emerald." "It's beautiful," I said simply. Just then, the phone inside my bag vibrated. It was a text message that read: [Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Phaelis?]

“Sign it.” Axton’s calm voice echoed in the room. The kind of calm that made silence deafening. He pushed the divorce papers across the polished desk, his expression cold and composed. The pen rolled until it stopped in front of her hand. Isla’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up. The golden ring on her finger glinted under the office light, a cruel reminder of everything that was about to end. Three years of marriage, three years of smiles and unspoken tenderness, now reduced to a signature line. They had never married for love, binded by a contract signed for convenience, destined to expire the moment it no longer served its purpose. And yet somewhere along the way, Isla had forgotten it was only temporary.