"Let me drive," I demanded, climbing into Gatsby's yellow car. He didn't say a word but simply opened the door for me. I needed to clear my head after the events that transpired in the hotel. I just wanted to go home. He sat down next to me, staring straight ahead as we drove on through the twilight.

"Jay, I-" I didn't know what I could say to make the situation any better, but I felt like I needed to talk to him. "I'm sorry," was all I could manage. I was starting to get desperate when he still didn't reply.

"I love you, and you know that, but there was a point when I loved Tom, and I can't deny that. You have to understand that, please."

"But I've never loved anyone else but you, Daisy," he finally spoke up, but it wasn't the response I was hoping for.

"I know, and…" tears were threatening to spill now. I didn't want to lose him again, but Tom was my husband. I couldn't leave him, even for Gatsby.

"You don't know how hard it is," I suddenly blurted. He looked startled at my outburst, but his attention suddenly went from me to the road in front of us. I turned to see what his wide eyes were staring at. A woman was running directly at the car, waving her arms as though she wanted us to stop. I swerved in an attempt to avoid hitting her, but there was another car passing by. I couldn't even think straight at this point. If I managed to save the woman, I would hit the car beside us. Gatsby tried to take control of the wheel, and in a panic I turned the car back toward the woman.

There was a terrible noise of the wheels making contact with her body and the piercing screams of the woman echoed through the night. I knew I'd never be able to erase that horrible screaming from my mind. In shock at what I had just done, I collapsed into his lap and he began driving the car instead.

"You don't know," I sobbed, clinging to the fabric of his suit. "You don't know."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Gatsby placed his hands on my shoulders in concern as we stood outside the house. I shook my head, still unable to process what had happened barely an hour before.

"If Tom tries anything, turn the lights off and on, okay? I'll be waiting as long as you need me to." I wasn't really paying attention to what he said, so I nodded wordlessly as I tried to tell myself over and over again that it was an accident. I began to walk inside, but he grabbed my arm.

"Daisy." I turned around. His tone wasn't angry or upset, it was surprisingly gentle.

"Yes?" I whispered.

"I love you."

"I-I love you too." He kissed me for what I knew was probably the last time. I walked into the empty house and sank down on the couch. I knew I had to pull myself together before Tom got home. He couldn't know, I just couldn't tell him. I managed to drag myself to the bathroom and shakily wipe the smeared makeup off my face. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would calm me down a little.

"Daisy!" I heard the door open and the sound of Tom's voice. Built up rage began to release itself for all the things Tom had ever said or done. I wasn't stupid. I knew he'd had affairs before, probably several. And I doubted that he ever loved me, regardless of how much I loved him. And he dared to be upset with me for being with Gatsby? That wasn't fair at all.

"Hello," I said curtly, walking into the kitchen where Tom was standing. He looked like a mess, and I realized that he must have passed the scene of the accident on the way home.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Is he here? Did you sleep with him in my own house? Right after he murdered someone?"

"No!" I exclaimed in horror at his accusation. "He's not here, Tom, and it was…"

My fault. My unfinished sentence wasn't completed with the truth and it never would be.

"An accident," I finished weakly.

"An accident?" Tom scoffed. "You know damn well that wasn't an accident, he didn't even stop his car!"

"It was an accident!" I repeated, my eyes beginning to water again. I wasn't trying to convince Tom, I was trying to make myself believe this.

"Then why didn't he pull over? Tell me that."

"I-I don't know, it just…happened so fast and I…" I broke off into hysterics and Tom pulled me into his arms.

"Daisy, you weren't driving the car, it's his fault, not yours."

Yes it is, I added silently, sobbing into his shirt.

"And I'm sorry for everything that happened today."

"I am too," I sniffled.

"You don't need him anymore, Daisy. You have me."

He was right, and part of me knew the whole time that it wouldn't ever work out between us. But the idea of him still pining after me even when we'd never be together excited me, so I agreed with Tom. We got left over fried chicken out of the fridge and didn't even bother heating it up. Through dinner, we talked as though nothing had happened and it felt like it used to before this entire mess ever happened. Soon after, Tom went to bed, but I paused at the window for a moment before turning off the light.

Goodbye, Gatsby. It was fun while it lasted.