The next morning, Freya stood in her small kitchen, still holding the photo in her hand.
She'd stared at it for hours. No name, no date, no explanation.
A knock rattled her door.
"Laura," Freya called, not even asking who it was.
Laura stepped in, holding a paper bag and a bottle of wine. "I brought emergency snacks. And something to make your kitchen feel like a gossip couch."
Freya gave her a weak smile. "You always know when I'm spiraling."
"It's a gift," Laura said, slipping off her jacket. "Now spill. Why did you call me over so early?"
They sat at the table. Freya placed the envelope in front of them, sliding the photo out slowly.
Laura picked it up and squinted. "What's this?"
"That's Arnold. And possibly the man who hit me."
Laura's eyes widened. "Where did you get this?"
"It just… showed up in my bag. I didn't tell anyone. Not even Alex. I don't know who's sending these things. But it's not just this."
