Grandma's Last Three Walnuts

Before my crazy grandmother died, she gave me three walnuts.

According to her last wish, I cracked open the first walnut on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Inside the walnut was a slip of paper.

'Go to the skybridge and grovel at the first beggar you meet' was the instruction written on it.

When I looked at the note, I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Still, I did as told. To my surprise, the beggar turned out to be an undercover cop.

Only later did I learn that I had long been targeted by human traffickers, and the bow had saved my life.

As for the second walnut, my grandmother told me to crack it open before I got married.

When I put on my wedding dress, ready to marry the policeman who saved me, I happily opened it.

This time, there was a crumpled old photograph inside.

In the photo, my fiancé was smiling as he strangled another bride.

The Beginning

In the photo, Evan, whom I had loved for three years, had a bright yet cruel smile plastered on his face. His hands were clamped tightly around the neck of the bride. The bride's wedding dress was exactly the same as the one I was wearing now.

In that split second, my mind went blank.

The walnut shell in my hand slipped to the floor with a crisp crack.

At that very moment, the dressing room door swung open. Sunny, who was my bridesmaid and my best friend, called out in excitement, "Lena, it's time! Evan is already waiting for you outside. Come on!"

I looked at her, then at myself in the mirror, draped in pure white. Then, my stomach churned violently.

That photo was like a key, unlocking the memories I had buried deep.

Before my grandmother passed away, she had held my hand tightly, her eyes filled with a strange, unwavering clarity.

"Lena, I'm old now, so I can't protect you anymore. You have three deadly trials in your life, each more dangerous than the last. Every one of them could kill you. These three walnuts are the chances I traded half my life for.

"Remember to open each one only at the moment I told you."

I didn't have my parents beside me when growing up. It was my grandmother who raised me by picking up trash.

People in the village called her a lunatic, but I knew she was the only person in the world who truly loved me. So, I carved her warning into my bones.

On my twenty-fifth birthday, I cracked open the first walnut.

'Go to the skybridge and grovel at the first beggar you meet.'

The words were absurd and humiliating, but I went anyway.

The beggar beneath the bridge was filthy. When I groveled at him for the third time, he suddenly lunged toward me and pinned me underneath him.

And that very moment saved my life.

Behind me, an iron hook shot out from the window of a runaway van speeding past.

In the next second, countless officers rushed in from all directions. Then, the beggar pulled out his badge and shouted, "Freeze! Police!"

He was Evan Cole.

It was a criminal gang masquerading as recruiters, specializing in abducting female college students, and I had been their next target for months.

Had Evan not thrown himself over me, I would have been hooked into that van and disappeared without a trace.

At the trial, I appeared as the key witness.

The ringleader was sentenced to death. His wife glared at me with hatred.

Then, she shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing.

"Lena Hart! I'll remember you! You destroyed my family! My son and I will never let you go! You'll never have peace for the rest of your life!"

Her curses coiled around me like a cold, damp serpent for three whole years.

…

On the other hand, Evan was promoted from an officer straight into the city's major crimes unit. His future was bright and limitless.

He became my hero. My light.

Naturally, we ended up together.

However, the photo had now shattered every bit of happiness I had ever imagined.

I stripped off my wedding dress with trembling hands and changed into my clothes. Then, I slipped out through the back door of the dressing room and fled in disgrace.

I didn't dare to question him or make a peep.

The smile in that photograph was too real. Real enough to terrify me.

I ran from the city and erased all traces of myself.

However, I didn't lose hope. After all, Grandma had left me with one last walnut.

As long as I had it, I believed I could survive.

…

I met Shane in a small city in the south.

He was the curator of a renowned local art museum. He was five years older than me, and was a gentle and elegant man.

He fell for me at first sight and pursued me with fierce persistence.

The first time I visited his home, I felt the vast distance between our worlds.

He lived in a standalone villa halfway up the mountain. Every painting on the wall was worth a fortune. His family, especially his graceful, aristocratic sister, looked down on me with contempt.