What Caused The Txt Hiatus For The Band?

Six years of marriage. All passion at night, but never tenderness in the daylight. Amelia Sinclair loved Christopher Zephyr deeply, and she swallowed the bitterness as if it were sweet. Her own daughter wasn't allowed to call him father, yet the son of his first love sat on his lap, learning to say the word "dad". The entire family treated that adopted boy as a precious heir, while her own flesh and blood was treated like a shameful stain. It wasn't until Amelia and her daughter paid with their lives—until Christopher signed the cremation papers with his own hand and then took the boy to attend his first love's welcome banquet—that Amelia finally understood. Love couldn't win love. A heartless man had no heart to give. When Amelia was reborn, she swore she would never again cling to that cold and humiliating marriage. In her past life, she had foolishly given up her studies, content to be a housewife and devote herself to her family. In this one, she submitted the divorce papers without hesitation, took her daughter far from the mire, and rebuilt her career until she stood at the top again. In the first week after Amelia left, Christopher dismissed it as one of her tantrums. By the first month, he brushed it off completely. It didn't matter to him what she did, so it was fine to let her go. Later on, he saw her again, standing tall among the industry's elite! Amelia was focused only on her career, and her daughter was focused only on finding herself a new father. And Christopher finally realized that they really didn't want him anymore. The man lost all reason. The one who had always been cold, proud, untouchable, suddenly threw away his dignity. He blocked the mother and daughter pair in full view of everyone, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "Honey, I'll kneel here if I have to. Please... just love me one more time."

Thirty days into our argument, my girlfriend kissed her first love passionately right in front of me. I quietly asked my boss for a transfer to the Northern City branch, which was thousands of miles away. Her friends clapped and teased me. “Ivan, your girlfriend’s getting a new boyfriend. Aren’t you going to win her back?” I held her hand and sincerely said, “I’m sorry.” She looked down at me with a proud smile. “Okay, I forgive you. Tomorrow, pack your things. We’re going to see my parents.” I smiled and agreed. But she did not know I was leaving for Northern City that night.

During the live boyband auditions, I won the popularity vote by a landslide and was given the position of the main singer. Another member of the boyband suddenly laughed as he patted me on the shoulder. "Jordan, I was the one who accompanied you to get stamina supplements after you overdid it in bed with your rich married lover. Now that we're in the same boyband, please look out for me!" Immediately, the phrase 'The Boyband's One-Minute Man' was seen everywhere online. Even our mentor chimed in, trying to get me kicked out of the band. I had no choice but to call my mother when I was unable to prove myself innocent. "Mom, I don't want to debut in a boyband anymore. Let me go solo and send the rest of them off to labor away their lives at the factory!"

Two months remained until debut evaluation night. Before our unit performance, our main dancer suddenly offered me her center position. I stared at her, confused, "The trainers always praise your stage presence. Why give up your spot?" "You... you deserve center more than I do." Her smile was painfully forced, and she was fidgeting with her practice clothes - obviously not saying what she really felt. Puzzled by her strange behavior, I asked, "Are my moves too big? Am I making it hard for you to perform?" She suddenly started shaking, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes. After what felt like forever, she finally choked out, "Please, just stop. I won't try to compete with you for center anymore!"

After I announced my exit from the music industry, the public response was overwhelmingly positive. The only person who voiced his objection was my girlfriend's rumored lover, the up-and-coming songwriter Lucas Zacker. He put on a show of sincerity in front of a crowd of reporters. "It's all a misunderstanding. Matthew is an irreplaceable talent in the music industry. I sincerely hope he returns to the stage." I shut off my phone and turned a blind eye to his public plea. In my past life, one of my songs had been identical to his supposedly original single. As such, netizens accused me of plagiarism, cursing me and wishing death upon my family. Frustrated, I posted the entire creation process online, but it couldn't stand up to the timeline. His new song had been released ten minutes ahead of mine. Just because of the ten-minute difference, netizens sent me photoshopped mourning portraits of myself and even went so far as to come to my house and vandalize it with paint. The relentless cyberbullying went on for years, and it drove me into a deep depression. My parents exhausted their life savings trying to clear my name, only for crazed fans to set our house on fire, causing my parents to burn to death. In the end, when his song won an award, I jumped off a building. But who would have guessed that when I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the very day the new song was set to release.

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.