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[this is an alternate ending, so it goes with parts 1-3 and is not a continuation of parts 1-4]
Taylor pushed her carrots around her plate as she listened to her friends gossip.
"Did anyone hear about that Wordle thing?" Blake commented. "I swear everyone's playing it. The kids and Ryan and everything."
"No yeah, definitely. I play it," Abigail shrugged.
"I was so stuck on yesterday's word. It was so stupid, but I didn't even realize letters could be duplicated." Martha shrugged.
"Wait, which one?" Alana spoke up.
"Blood." Martha said, and Taylor's body immediately freezes up. Weeks later and the word still sends chills down her spine. It's involuntary, and she flinches.
She looked away hastily, biting her tongue to prevent tears from rolling down her cheeks. Her friends seemed to notice, and a bout of silence washed over the dinner table.
"How's he?" Blake asked gently.
"The same as three fucking weeks ago." Taylor almost snapped, and she took a deep breath to compose herself. "I'm- sorry, I didn't mean to say it that way. He's doing okay, thanks."
"Are they still allowing you to visit at any time, with Covid and all?" Gigi asked gently.
Taylor shook her head, trying to not get choked up. She stared at her carrots, the fucking carrots that she despises, the ones Joe would've eaten off her plate, and closed her eyes. "They're not letting me stay overnight now. Joe's in a coma, so his visiting hours are 9 am to 6 pm."
"I'm sorry," Gigi responds. Taylor knows she is, in a sympathetic way. But to what extent can she understand it?
Everybody else seems to immediately shove food in their mouth, just so they wouldn't have to speak yet. And Taylor hates it. She fucking hates how people pity her, and how a dinner party can turn so cold, so quickly. If Joe were there, they would've laughed over everybody's vacant stares, but right now, her time was all theirs. As a habit when she was stressed, her finger automatically tried to pull her wedding ring off to fiddle with it, but her heart stopped as she remembered it wasn't there anymore.
Taylor's phone rang, jolting her out of her self-pitying thoughts. She quickly excused herself and hurried to a guest room, locking herself inside.
"I don't blame Taylor for being basically depressed," Gigi spoke up.
"None of us do." Abigail cast a look at her.
"How do we even help her? We've tried everything." Blake barrelled in.
"Wounds take time to heal," Martha said gently. "Just- be there for her, I guess. Offer to visit Joe with her. I don't know."
"Guys." Taylor's soft voice caught the table's attention. Her cheeks were evidently rosier and healthier than when she left the table, and her face bore a smile for the first time in weeks. "A record label struck a deal with me. Universal Music Group. I'm get to make a fucking album!" she screeched. She was immediately bombarded with excited hugs from her friends.
