The plot is starting to ramp up here, getting to the good/scary/cringey parts where you realize you’ve been running straight toward a wall and it’s not about to move . . .
When I wrote, and now read, these chapters I fluctuated between wishing I were so brave, and wincing because I knew what was coming. As a teacher, I point out “dramatic irony” to my students: when the audience knows something the characters don’t. It creates tension for the audience, but I hadn’t realized how much anxiety it could create for the writer!
A few times I had yelled at the laptop, “Don’t do it! You don’t know what’s coming!”
Then I thought, “Well, if it doesn’t happen, the plot goes nowhere. It HAS to happen. Write it!”
And then I thought, “Maybe it’s time to call a therapist. I’m yelling at my laptop far too often.”
And then I threw in some “reverse dramatic irony” (yeah, it’s a thing because I say it is) where my characters know something the audience doesn’t, so I feel it balances it out. (I never did call a therapist. I rather enjoy my psychosis.)