I never expected to see Jacob, my ex-fiancé, again, much less as a homeless man in Central Park. Confronting him uncovered a horrific betrayal that made me question everything I knew about my past and the people I trusted the most. “Come on, Nina, one more slice of pizza before you go,” my old friend Eric insisted, flashing his signature grin. “No way,” I laughed, “I’ve got a flight to catch. And a walk through Central Park to do, remember?” Eric rolled his eyes, but waved me away. “Okay, but you’ll regret missing out on another slice of authentic New York pizza when you’re back in boring old St. Louis,” he joked. I laughed, hugged him, and headed to Central Park, savoring the last of my nostalgic trip. New York always had a way of making me feel so alive, but it also reminded me somehow of Jacob, and I had a strange feeling about him at the moment.

The weekend had been a whirlwind. I spent hours wandering around the boutiques of SoHo, splurging on designer dresses and extravagant accessories. The leather smell of luxury handbags still lingered in my mind. Lunch at a trendy cafe, where I indulged in an avocado toast that tasted heavenly, was a highlight. Dinner at a chic rooftop restaurant with Eric, overlooking the city lights, had been the perfect way to end my day. New York was a feast for the senses, a place where I could lose myself in the crowds and the flavors.

It had been eight years since the disaster of my wedding day. I was at peace with it, or so I thought. That was until I saw him. There he was, on a bench, looking like a ghost from the past, disheveled and pleading. My heart stopped. Could it really be Jacob, my long-lost fiancé? I had to know.

We walked to a nearby coffee shop, the awkward silence between us growing with every step. I ordered two coffees and a couple of burgers, glancing at Jacob, who seemed lost in thought. I handed him his mug, and our fingers briefly touched, sending a jolt of memories through me. We made our way back to the park, found a bench under a large oak tree, and sat down, the city bubbling around us. “They beat me until I couldn’t remember anything. I woke up in a hospital, bruised and disoriented. The doctors said I had amnesia,” Jacob explained, his voice shaking.

“I didn’t even know my own name. They held me for a while, but when I was physically stable, they released me. I had nowhere to go. No memory, no job, no life.” I could see the pain in his eyes as he continued. “Without a past, I couldn’t move forward. I wandered the streets, trying to piece together fragments of who I was. Confusion and fear turned to depression. I couldn’t find a job, couldn’t afford a place to stay. One bad turn led to another, and I ended up here, living day to day.”