Seven Years of Mismeasured Love

Alexia Chase POV

The words of the Reddit post echoed in my mind. The anonymous author, unmistakably Jarrod given his signature blend of smugness and victimhood, painted a picture calculated to garner sympathy. But there was a new update, a fresh torment.

A strange empathy stirred within me. The author expressed a profound loneliness, mirroring my own isolated existence. It was a dangerous, seductive connection.

Curiosity won out. I clicked on the new update. The post rambled on, detailing the author's frustration with a particular person. The words were laced with aristocratic disdain.

The author complained about a girl he was being pushed to socialize with. "She's too loud, too… common. Always trying too hard to fit in."

Then, the author posted a photo. A candid shot of a man in a tailored charcoal suit, standing on a balcony. The detail that caught my breath was the man's hand—a subtle scar on the knuckle of his left index finger. I knew that scar. It was Elliott.

The comments exploded. "Who is that?! He's gorgeous!"

But then I noticed the username: "LonelyHeir88." Jarrod's go-to online alias from years ago. My stomach turned. He wasn't just mocking me—he was pretending to be Elliott, spinning a fake sob story.

The coincidence was too much. "No," I told myself. It had to be Jarrod, still playing his cruel games.

But another thought crept in. What if the "first love" mentioned in the previous posts was me? My heart pounded. Could the meter have been a trick?

I zoomed in on the photo. The curve of his jaw, the tilt of his head—it was all him. My mind replayed countless moments, searching for clues. The more I looked, the more confused I felt.

I typed out a careful message, my thumb hovering over send. My heart hammered.

My phone rang. Jarrod. The suddenness felt like sabotage.

"Alexia, Mother wants you home for dinner. Don't be late."

Then a woman's voice in the background. "Oh, Jarrod, is that Alexia? Tell her I said hello!" Kira Stewart.

"Jarrod, are you still making Alexia run errands for you?" Kira laughed. "Poor thing."

Jarrod chuckled. "She's family, Kira. She helps out."

"Oh, Jarrod, you're too much," Kira said. "But seriously, Elliott's brother Daniel and I were just talking about you both."

Daniel. Not Elliott. Kira was marrying Daniel. I had misunderstood all along. But the casual intimacy between Kira and Jarrod—that was real. And it still stung.

My heart seized. The fragile hope shattered. The world spun, then went blank.

Before I lost consciousness, I heard Jarrod's voice one last time: "Alexia? Alexia! Someone call an ambulance!" The last thing I saw was the red number above Elliott's head—flickering, then turning a brilliant, impossible gold. Then darkness swallowed me whole, and I didn't know if I would ever open my eyes again.