The last Ordinary day

The summer sun poured through the sheer curtains of the small living room, bathing everything in a golden glow. Veronica Hudges sat cross-legged on the couch, her nose buried in a well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice. Outside, the world hummed with the lazy buzz of cicadas and the faint sound of children laughing as they rode their bikes down the street. It was a perfectly ordinary day—one that would soon become etched in her memory for all the wrong reasons.

"Roni, breakfast!" her mother, Claire, called from the kitchen, her voice cheerful and full of energy.

"Coming!" Veronica replied, reluctantly setting the book down. She stretched as she stood, her joints cracking from staying curled up too long. At nineteen, she was already beginning to feel the weight of responsibility pressing on her shoulders. Balancing her literature courses at the community college with her part-time job at the library was no small feat, but she never complained. It wasn't in her nature, and it certainly wasn't in Claire's.

The smell of bacon and fresh coffee greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen. Claire stood at the stove, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, humming a tune Veronica didn't recognize. Her mother had always been like this—effortlessly radiant, even when life threw its worst at them. She had the kind of strength that Veronica often wished she could borrow, if only for a moment.

"Morning, sunshine," Claire said with a grin, flipping a pancake onto a plate. "How's Mr. Darcy today?"

"Still brooding," Veronica replied with a smirk. "But I think Lizzy's starting to crack his shell."

Claire laughed, the sound filling the small kitchen. "Well, good for her. I never trusted a man who broods that much. Too much effort."

"Maybe you're just biased because you married Mr. Laid-Back," Veronica teased, though the words felt hollow the moment they left her lips. Her mother's smile faltered, just for a second, but it was enough.

"Eat your breakfast," Claire said, her tone light but tinged with finality. The subject of her father was off-limits, as it always had been.

Veronica sat down at the table, her stomach twisting. She had grown up with a million questions about the man who had supposedly died before she was born. Why were there no pictures of him? What had he been like? But Claire never offered more than the occasional vague reassurance: "He loved you very much, Roni. That's all you need to know."

Veronica had stopped pushing for answers years ago, but the questions still lingered, whispering in the back of her mind.

By mid-morning, Claire had announced her plan for the day: a spontaneous road trip to a flea market on the outskirts of town. Veronica had protested—she had homework to finish, and Sundays were supposed to be for lounging around—but Claire was insistent.

"Come on, Roni," she said, leaning against the doorway of Veronica's room. "It'll be fun. Just you, me, and miles of bad country music. What do you say?"

Veronica couldn't say no to her mother, not when she looked at her with that hopeful smile. "Fine," she said, pretending to be annoyed. "But if you make me listen to any Toby Keith, I'm jumping out of the car."

Claire grinned. "Deal."

The drive was as picturesque as it was predictable: rolling fields of green, dotted with wildflowers and the occasional barn. Claire sang along to the radio, her voice off-key but enthusiastic, while Veronica scrolled through her phone, pretending not to enjoy the moment. She didn't want to admit it, but these little adventures were her favorite part of their relationship. It was just the two of them, free from the weight of bills, work, and unanswered questions.

They arrived at the flea market just before noon. It was a sprawling maze of stalls and tents, each one packed with treasures and trinkets. Claire was in her element, bargaining with vendors and pointing out oddities that made Veronica laugh. By the time they left, the trunk was filled with mismatched vintage plates, a cracked porcelain doll, and a rusty birdcage that Claire swore she'd turn into a lamp.

The sun was starting to set as they drove home, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. Veronica rested her head against the window, her eyelids growing heavy. She was just about to drift off when Claire's voice pulled her back.

"Roni, can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" Veronica opened her eyes, blinking at her mother in the dim light of the car.

"Are you happy?" Claire's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white. "I mean… with everything. School, work, life…"

The question caught Veronica off guard. "I guess so," she said, sitting up straighter. "Why?"

Claire hesitated, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I just… I want you to know that you can do anything you want, Roni. You don't have to settle for what life gives you. You deserve the world."

Veronica frowned, a sense of unease creeping in. "Mom, where's this coming from?"

Claire opened her mouth to answer, but the words never came. In an instant, the world exploded into chaos.