My Online Boyfriend Mistook Me for Someone Else—I Left Chapter 05
To be completely honest, fifty grand was a life-changing amount of money for someone like me. I didn’t dare spend a single cent of it, locking it away safely in a savings account.
After that night, a strange pattern emerged. I started running into Wilder everywhere.
Waiting in line at the campus convenience store, he’d be standing right behind me. Stepping out of the classroom for air, we’d pass each other in the crowded corridors. We rarely spoke, keeping our distance, until one afternoon when we literally collided head-on.
The water from my water bottle splashed right across the front of his pristine school uniform.
He simply raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed as he dabbing at the wet fabric with a tissue. He looked down at me with a smirk. “What a coincidence, classmate Rainy Miller.”
“It’s almost like the universe keeps throwing us together.”
From that day on, our digital exchange slowly grew. Despite his delinquent reputation, his grades were actually phenomenal—just like Weston’s. They belonged to that infuriating tier of people who were born blessed, succeeding effortlessly without breaking a sweat.
As we got comfortable, I started sending him advanced physics and math problems I couldn’t solve. He never minded helping out.
Except for one evening.
I had dropped a particularly brutal geometry problem into our chat while he was in the middle of an intense gaming session with his crew. Instead of texting, his voice call snapped through my phone.
“I’m in the middle of a raid right now, hands are tied,” Wilder’s voice echoed, slightly breathless. “But Weston is sitting right next to me. I’ll have him talk you through it.”
Hearing that name, my grip tightened around my phone. My heart violently slammed against my ribs, and my throat went completely dry.
“No, wait, it’s fine—”
Before I could finish the protest, a different voice cut through the line. Clear, deep, and chillingly familiar.
“Look at the diagram. There’s a hidden condition you’re missing…”
His explanation was surgical, breaking down the complex problem into simple steps within minutes. As he finished, he paused for a brief second. “Does that make sense? Can you follow my logic?”
I pressed my lips together, keeping my voice level. “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
The line went silent on his end. He had clearly tossed the phone back to Wilder. But before I could hit the red end-call button, Wilder’s voice filtered back through the speaker.
“You remember her, right? The girl who picked up your watch.”
A low, noncommittal grunt came from Weston. “Yeah. I remember.”
“When did you two get so close?” Weston asked, his tone shifting slightly.
Wilder chuckled. “That’s a secret, bro.”
A brief pause stretched over the call before Weston spoke again, his voice thoughtful. “The desk in the photo she sent… it looks familiar. It looks exactly like Cynthia’s.”
A cold wave of panic washed over me. I slammed the end-call button, my breath catching in my throat.
My mind was a chaotic, tangled mess. I had sent a photo of that exact same desk to Weston months ago on my old Snapchat account. And now he was saying Cynthia Valentine had the exact same one.
I connected the dots, and the realization left me trembling.
On the night I deleted that old account, his final words to me were: I found you.
Did he think Cynthia was the digital ghost he had been talking to for three years? Was that the real reason he had suddenly softened up and gotten together with her?