I Left My Wedding For Paris

At our graduation party, everyone was buzzing with envy because Professor Kingsley was taking Logan and me to Paris to join his research team.

I heard you guys are getting legally married at the courthouse the day after tomorrow? Talk about a double wincareer and love all at once!

Couples who get married in Paris are destined for eternal happiness, you know!

I smiled, my heart full of hope, and reached out to pull Logan's sleeve so we could raise a glass to everyone.

But before my hand could reach him, he spoke, his voice cool and detached. "We aren't going."

I froze. The glass in my hand suddenly felt incredibly heavy.

"Amber's graduation thesis experiment still isn't finished," Logan continued smoothly. "She's been working so hard, and I can't just leave her stranded."

"As for Gill, she's going to stay behind with me."

Logan reached over, patting my head with a gentle, patronizing affection that suddenly made my skin crawl. "I need to head back to the lab to help Amber. You don't hold your liquor well, so don't drink too much."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bar, leaving me standing there.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the table. It took a full minute before someone awkwardly broke the tension. "Wow... you guys really have a great relationship. And you're so generous, always helping others."

I forced a tight, empty smile, numbness spreading from my chest to my fingertips. Turning to Professor Kingsley, I quietly whispered, "I'm still going."

If Logan wanted to throw away his own future, fine. But what made him think he had the right to drag me down with him?

...

"If the Professor asks, just tell him you decided you didn't want to go. I don't want this affecting Amber's focus," Logan's voice crackled through the phone. "Shes had a really rough time lately."

The graduation party had barely ended when Logan called. I stood on the sidewalk, the cold night air biting at my cheeks, utterly speechless.

Before I could find my voice, Amber's whiny, giggling voice drifted through the receiver. "Logan, I keep messing up this sequence! What do I do now?"

Logan didn't even bother to hang up. I heard his tone soften instantly, filled with a warmth he rarely showed me anymore. "Don't worry, sweetie. Take it slow. Give me your hand, I'll guide you through it step by step."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and quietly ended the call. Then, I turned around and walked back to the science building to find Professor Kingsley.

"Just you?" Professor Kingsley looked up from his desk, a frown creasing his brow. "Where's Logan?"

"He's not coming," I said simply.

"What?" The professor looked genuinely shocked. "Logan has always been so protective of you. He's really going to let you go abroad alone? And aren't you two supposed to get your marriage license this week?"

A sharp ache flared behind my eyes. Yeah. We were.

I remembered a spring afternoon under the blooming cherry blossoms on campus. Logan had rested his head in my lap, looking up at me with eyes full of adoration, swearing that I was his entire world. I promise, Gill, you're my absolute priority. Ill spend the rest of my life making you happy.

"Maybe he was just joking," I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. But before the professor could reply, the heavy office door swung open, and Amber burst in.

"Professor Kingsley," she said, practically bouncing on her heels. "Heres the updated lab report you asked for." After handing over the papers, she spun toward me, a sweet, saccharine smile plastered on her face.

"Oh, Gill! I'm so incredibly jealous of you. Logan is literally the best boyfriend ever. My experiment would have been a total disaster without his help."

"By the way, he told me he's going to spend the next few months practically living in the lab with me to make sure everything goes right. You don't mind, do you?"

The radiant, secure look on Amber's face was a mirror of how I used to look. A deep, heavy sadness settled in my chest.

But I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. I kept my face blank and gave a polite shrug. "Of course not. Logan is free to do whatever he wants."

"Really?" Amber's smile sharpened, turning distinctly smug. "Well, Logan is so brilliant and handsome. There are always girls trying to catch his eye. If he ever decides to move on... I guess thats his freedom, too, right?"

"Yes," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "It is."

Professor Kingsley, sensing the thick tension, frowned deeply and barked, "Amber, that's enough nonsense. Get back to your desk. I'll review this and call you in later."

"I was just asking," Amber muttered, rolling her eyes as she sauntered out of the office.

The professor sighed, pulling out two official application forms from his desk and sliding them toward me. "Take these. Tell Logan to think long and hard about this. Opportunities like this don't come twice." He paused, looking at me with genuine concern. "And Gill... keep an eye on Amber. Don't let Logan get too close to her."

I knew he was right. But I also knew a fundamental truth about people: you can't keep someone who already has one foot out the door.

By the time I walked out of the science building, the sky had bruised into a dark gray, and a torrential downpour began to slash against the concrete.

Through the sheets of rain, I saw a familiar figure jogging toward the building under a large black umbrella. Logan. My heart did a habitual little leap, and I started to step forward, but before I could call his name, another figure darted past me, slipping seamlessly under his umbrella.

It was Amber.

Logan didn't pull away. Instead, he adjusted the tilt of the umbrella to shelter her, leaving his own shoulder to get soaked. When his eyes finally met mine, they were entirely devoid of warmth.

"Amber invited me over to her place for dinner," he said casually. "Do you want to come?"

"No," I said, my voice barely carrying over the sound of the rain.

It all made sense now. Why Logan had barely touched his food at the graduation partyhe was saving his appetite for a private, intimate dinner. Amber gasped softly, putting a hand over her mouth in mock surprise.

"Oh my gosh, Gill! I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you there!" She looked up at Logan with wide, watery eyes. "Logan, the rain is so bad. Maybe we should postpone dinner. You should go home with Gill. I'll just wait here until the storm passes. Don't worry about me, really, I'll be fine."

She played the selfless martyr beautifully, and I could see the protective instinct flare in Logan's eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," Logan said, his voice firm. "I'm a man of my word. If I make a promise, I keep it."

"But... what about Gill?" Amber peeked at me from under the rim of the umbrella, looking terrified that I might snap at her.

"She'll be fine. A little rain never hurt anyone!" Logan suddenly thrust the umbrella handle into my hands, grabbed Amber's wrist, and pulled her out into the storm.

Their bright, breathless laughter echoed through the heavy air, cutting through the thunder.

A phantom memory flashed through my mind. Years ago, on a similarly miserable rainy day, Logan had looked at me with that exact same thrill in his eyes. Let's just run for it! hed yelled, pulling me into the downpour, laughing as we got soaked to the bone.

I stood there holding the cold metal handle of the umbrella, staring at their retreating backs. I turned and started the long walk back to our apartment. But for some reason, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

In the past, if I ever went home alone, Logan would spam my phone with texts checking up on me, regardless of the weather. But tonight, after I showered and dried off, my lock screen was completely blank. Instead, when I opened my social feed, the first post was from Amber.

[When you're with the one you love, even the wildest storms feel like sunshine.]

Below, a classmate had commented: Ooh, is someone in love? Whos the lucky guy? Give us a hint!

Amber had replied: Hehe, L.W.

L.W. Logan Ward. A sharp, icy needle pierced my chest. If you're willing to run through a freezing storm together, laughing all the way, how could it be anything less than love?

When we first moved in together, we had a strict rule: always be home by ten. But tonight, the clock on the microwave read eleven when the front door finally clicked open.

Logan walked in wearing a completely different outfita crisp, stylish shirt that fit him perfectly. It carried the subtle, clean scent of fresh laundry. Not ours.

My vision blurred for a second. I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to remain steady as I picked up the application forms from the coffee table and held them out to him. "Professor Kingsley wants you to reconsider. He says this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Without a single word, Logan snatched the papers from my hands and ripped them into shreds, letting the white pieces flutter to the hardwood floor like snow. I stood frozen, staring at the ruin at our feet. I couldn't comprehend why his reaction was so volatile.

"You know how hard Amber is working," Logan hissed, his face contorted with anger. "Why do you have to target her? Why did you go out of your way to badmouth her to the Professor?"

He glared at me as if I were a stranger, a monster. "Does tearing down a younger student make you feel powerful, Gill? Does it make you feel superior?"

I stared at him, utterly bewildered.

"Logan! Are you out of your mind? What proof do you have that I targeted her or said a single bad word? I have never, in my entire life, done something so petty!"

"Do I really need proof?" Logan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Amber's lab report got rejected today, and Kingsley tore her to shreds over it. She was in tears!"

"You were the only other person in his office when she handed it in. If you weren't whispering poison in his ear, who else was it?"

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat, but I choked it down.

"That report was drafted under my personal guidance," Logan continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. "There is no way it would have failed unless you tampered with his opinion. And you still claim you're innocent?"

"Tomorrow, you're going to go to Kingsley, explain your 'mistake,' and make sure her report gets approved." He threw the demand at me like an order to a servant.

I closed my eyes and drew a slow, ragged breath before looking back at him. "We have been together for four years, Logan. Do you honestly know so little about my character?"

Everyone in our department knew I was the one who quietly fixed mistakes, who covered for underclassmen, who detested drama. And as for lab reportswho hadn't had one rejected by Kingsley? Logan himself had failed seven times before getting his master's thesis approved. It was practically a rite of passage. But now, all of his logic was blinded by a toxic protective urge for another girl.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, a brief flicker of doubt crossing his face, but his pride won out. "People change, Gill."

"Yes," I whispered, my gaze drifting slowly down to his expensive, unfamiliar shirt. "They certainly do."

"Gill!" he snapped, his face instantly flushing as if Id struck a nerve. "Maybe Ive just been too soft on you. I've spoiled you, and now you think you can be as petty and vindictive as you want!" He turned sharply, slamming the guest bedroom door behind him.

I sat in the silent living room, staring at the white shreds of paper on the floor. Memories, unbidden and painful, began to flood back. Our junior year. A night of reckless passion, a failed birth control method, and a positive pregnancy test.

I had wanted to keep the baby. But Logan had panicked, pleading with me that it would ruin our academic careers, that the timing was all wrong. He had held my shaking hands in his, tears streaming down his face as he made a thousand promises.

I'm so sorry, Gill. I did this to you. I promise, this is the last time you will ever have to suffer. I will spend the rest of my life protecting you. From now on, your feelings are my only priority. I will never let you feel hurt or alone again.

And yet, in a single day, he had shattered me a dozen times over. How incredibly foolish I had been to believe in the empty weight of those words.

My phone buzzed in my hand, breaking the silence. It was Professor Kingsley: [The flight is booked for Thursday evening. It shouldn't interfere with your morning courthouse appointment. Is Logan on board? Has he signed the papers?]

Looking down at the shredded pieces of our future lying on the floor, my fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed: [I'll talk to him one more time.]

The next morning, Logan left the apartment before the sun was fully up, skipping breakfast and slipping out without saying a word.

Less than an hour later, another notification popped up. Amber had posted a new picture: [Nothing sweeter than feeding a spoon of strawberry cake to the person you love first thing in the morning.]

The photo showed a close-up of a man's neck and chin, a bite of cake hovering near his lips. On the right side of his neck, partially obscured by his collar, was a distinct, dark birthmark. Id kissed that birthmark a thousand times. It was Logan. This was the man who had once proudly boasted to our friends about his "unshakable boundaries" with other women.

Around noon, I went back to campus to hand my own completed application to the professor. As I passed our research lab, I glanced through the narrow glass window of the door. Logan was standing directly behind Amber, his chest pressed against her back, his hands over hers as he guided her through a pipetting sequence.

Step by step, he had said on the phone. I had pictured them sitting side by side. I hadn't realized "step by step" meant his arms wrapped entirely around her.

That evening, as I quietly packed my suitcase in our dark bedroom, my phone lit up with yet another update from Amber. [The moon is so beautiful tonight. I have someone keeping me warm... do you?] The attached photo showed two shadows cast against a brick wall under a streetlight, their hands curved together to form a perfect heart.

It was a direct, calculated attack. An open provocation.

I didn't call him. I didn't send an angry text. Instead, I calmly tapped the heart icon, giving the post a "like." By the time I snapped my suitcase shut ten minutes later, the post had been deleted.

But the damage was done. My inbox began to light up with messages from mutual friends.

[Hey, Gill, some people saw Logan up on the ridge with Amber tonight. Was that him in her story?]

[Gill, you need to watch out. Logan is crossing some major lines with that new girl.]

I sent a single copy-pasted reply to all of them: [His legs belong to him. I cant control where he wanders to play hero.]

Logan didn't come home until midnight. He crawled into bed, smelling of cheap beer and that same unfamiliar, sweet laundry detergent, and wrapped his arms tightly around my waist. A wave of intense nausea hit me.

I tried to pry his hands off, but he only pulled me tighter against his chest, burying his face in my hair. "Gill," he mumbled sleepily. "Can you make those blueberry pancakes tomorrow morning? I missed them." I stopped fighting and lay frozen in his grip, staring out the window at the cold, indifferent stars.

The next morning, Logan stood in front of our closet, pulling out the elegant, ivory silk dress I had bought specifically for our courthouse ceremony. "Gill," he said, turning to me with a casual smile. "Amber is doing a photoshoot for her portfolio today. Mind if she borrows this dress?"

For a split second, my heart had fluttered, thinking he was getting it ready for me. In the next, a profound, chilling disappointment washed over me.

"What's with that face?" Logan frowned, looking irritated by my silence. "It's just for one day. Don't be so petty. Consider it an apology for making her cry to the professor."

He walked over to my vanity table, his eyes landing on a delicate silver bracelet resting in a velvet box. "Oh, and this matches the dress perfectly. She can borrow this too." It was the first gift he had ever bought me, a token of his love from our sophomore anniversary. My hand shot out to snatch it back, but he was faster, slipping it into his pocket.

My hand hovered in the empty air, trembling slightly. As he turned toward the front door, I managed to find my voice. "Logan. Today is the day we're supposed to get our marriage license."

He froze, a brief flash of guilt crossing his features before he quickly masked it. "Right. Of course I remember. I'll meet you at the courthouse at three sharp."

The moment the front door clicked shut, my phone buzzed. It was an automated airline notification: [Dear Ms. Fletcher, your flight to Paris departs tonight at 7:30 PM. Please check in at least two hours prior.] A second later, Professor Kingsley sent a text reminding me of our meeting time at the airport terminal.

At 3:00 PM, I stood on the granite steps of the city courthouse. The afternoon sun beat down on me as I stared at my phone screen. No texts. No missed calls.

Instead, a message popped up from Amber: [Thanks for the dress and bracelet, Gill! They looked absolutely stunning on camera!] Attached was a video.

In the clip, Amber was wearing my ivory dress, her hand slipped possessively through Logan's arm. She was giggling, whispering something in his ear. In the background, the photographer's voice was clear:

"You two make such a gorgeous couple. Seriously, the chemistry is amazing."

"Hes so attentive, always wiping her brow and keeping her hydrated."

"We should definitely book you guys for a wedding-style shoot next time!"

Every word felt like a physical blow to my chest. I shut down the video, unfriended her, and blocked her number permanently.

Three o'clock came and went. No Logan. By five o'clock, the security guards began locking the courthouse doors. Finally, my phone buzzed with a text from him.

[Hey, things ran super late with the shoot. Let's do the courthouse another day. We have the rest of our lives anyway, theres no rush.]

I didn't reply. I walked down the steps, hailed a cab, and headed straight to my apartment to grab my suitcase before heading to the airport.

On the way, another text came through: [Amber's never seen a meteor shower before. I'm going to take her up to the ridge tonight to catch it. Won't be back until tomorrow morning.]

Over the last four years, I had begged Logan a dozen times to go stargazing with me. Every time, hed brushed me off, saying it was cold and pointless. But for Amber, he didn't hesitate. I suppose the old saying was true: it was never about the activity. It was about who you were doing it with.

Professor Kingsley was already waiting at the gate. When he saw me walking toward him alone, a long, heavy sigh escaped him. "Logan is really staying behind, then? He's completely blinded by that girl."

"Yes," I said quietly, adjusting the strap of my carry-on. "He made his choice, and I've made mine. Our careers are our own responsibility. So is our happiness."

The professor looked at me, a soft, approving smile touching his lips. "You're right, Gill. Besides, across the ocean, there's someone who has been waiting to see you for a very long time. Frankly, hes a league above Logan anyway."