The Anotomay of Regret Ex, Know Your Place Chapter 07

The Anotomay of Regret Ex, Know Your Place Chapter 07

The Unraveling 

KNOCK! 

His next client was coming. 

Maya closed her laptop, took a deep breath, and put on her professional face. 

But for the entire fifty–minute session, she could barely focus. 

Her mind kept drifting back to Jonathan’s words. 

After her client left, she sat alone in her office and cried. 

It was not because Jonathan’s apology had moved her. 

But because he was right–he didn’t remember. And that meant her pain had been invisible to him even as 

it was happening. 

She pulled herself together, washed her face, and opened her laptop. 

She spent the rest of the day reading through his editorial notes. 

By the time she finished reading, it was after 8 PM. 

She was exhausted. 

Her eyes hurt from staring at the screen. 

She opened a new email. 

Chapter 7 The Unraveling 

To: JCole@meridianpress.com 

Subject: Re: Editorial Notes 

Jonathan, 

I’ve reviewed your notes. They’re good. 

You’re right about the pacing issues, the repetitive sections, and the places where I’m hiding behind clinical language. 

I hate that you’re right. I wanted you to be incompetent. I wanted you to give me a reason to request a different editor. 

But you didn’t. 

I need time to process this. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to meet. 

Thank you for admitting that you don’t remember the holiday party. The moment that broke me was so insignificant to you. 

That’s the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me. 

I’ll be in touch. 

Maya She hit send and closed her laptop. 

Then she poured herself a glass of wine, sighing in relief. 

Six weeks later 

The manuscript was done. 

Maya stared at the final PDF on her screen–The 

Unraveling: A Memoir by Dr. Maya Wright–and felt a strange emptiness. 

She’d spent eighteen months writing it, another three months revising it with Jonathan, and now it was finished. 

Her phone buzzed. 

It was Claire, Jonathan’s assistant. 

“Hi Maya! Jonathan asked me to reach out. 

Kensington House wants to do a launch event for the book–something intimate, maybe 100-150 people. Authors, journalists, influencers. 

Would you be interested?” 

Maya’s heart tightened. 

“Who would be organizing it?” she asked. 

“Me! Jonathan would attend as your editor, but he wouldn’t be involved in the planning. He specifically said to make sure you were comfortable with the setup.” 

Of course he did. 

Jonathan was nothing if not considerate these days. 

“Let me think about it,” Maya said before hanging up. 

She called Simone. 

“They want to do a launch event,” she said blurtly. 

“Are you worried about seeing him in person?” 

Simone asked. 

“No. I just… we’ve had a system. Video calls, email, professional distance. An event changes that,” Maya 

said. 

“Maya, you’re going to have to see him eventually. The book comes out in six months. There will be interviews, panels, industry events. You can’t avoid him forever.” 

“I’m not trying to avoid him forever. I’m just trying to avoid him until I’m ready.” 

“And when will that be?” 

Maya fell in silence, 

“Exactly,” Simone said gently. “Look, you’re definitely not the person you were eight years ago. You can handle one event.” 

“What if I can’t?” Maya asked, worried. 

“Then you leave. You’re not trapped, Maya. You’re stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for.” 

After they hung up, Maya sat with the question. 

What am I actually afraid of?* 

She picked up her phone and sent a message to Claire. 

Maya: [Let’s do the event. But I want final approvaron the guest list and the venue.] 

Claire’s response was immediate: [Absolutely! I’ll send you options by end of week.] 

Three months later 

The launch event was scheduled for a Thursday evening in March at a boutique bookstore in 

Manhattan. 

Maya had approved everything–the intimate space, the carefully curated guest list, the setup that would 

allow her to do a reading and Q&A without feeling exposed. 

“Maya!” Claire appeared at her elbow. 

“You look amazing. The photographer is here, and we have about thirty minutes before guests arrive. Do you want to do some photos with the book display?” 

she asked. 

Maya nodded, letting herself be guided through the pre–event routine. 

As she was adjusting her dress–black, simple, armor disguised as elegance–she felt him before she saw him. 

Jonathan stood near the entrance, talking to someone from the publicity team. 

He wore a dark suit, no tie, and he looked… older, but good. 

Their eyes met across the room. 

For a moment, neither of them moved. 

Then Jonathan said something to the publicist and walked toward her. 

“Maya,” he said when he reached her. “You look-” 

He stopped himself. 

“The space looks great. Claire did an amazing job.” He changed the subject. 

“she did,” Maya agreed, proud of how steady her voice sounded. 

“How are you feeling? Nervous?” he asked. 

“Terrified,” she admitted. “But ready.” 

He smiled, and it was genuine. “You should be proud. This book is going to help a lot of people.” 

“That’s the hope,” she said calmly. 

An awkward pause. 

“And I just wanted to say-” He stopped again, seemed to reconsider. “Good luck tonight.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled faintly. 

He walked away, and Maya released a breath she’d been holding. 

Simone appeared at her side. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Maya nodded. “I’m okay.” 

The Q&A was thoughtful, with questions about the writing process, about the intersection of psychology and memoir, about how she’d found the courage to be so honest. 

No one asked about Jonathan directly, though she saw a few knowing glances. 

People knew they’d dated, knew he was her editor. 

Everyone was too polite to make it explicit. 

Except for one woman in the back, a journalist Maya recognized from a literary magazine. 

“Dr. Wright,” she said during the Q&A, “your book examines a relationship where you felt invisible, where your needs were consistently deprioritized. And yet you chose to work with your ex–partner as your editor. Can you talk about that decision?” 

The room went silent. 

Jonathan froze near the side wall. 

Claire’s eyes widen with concern. 

“That’s a fair question,” Maya said calmly. “The truth is, I didn’t choose it–it was part of my contract. I could have fought it, and I didn’t. I made the choice to work with Jonathan because I realized something important: my story isn’t about him. It’s about me. About the patterns I fell into, the ways I abandoned myself, the journey back to self–respect.” 

She paused, choosing her words carefully. 

“Working with him was uncomfortable. It brought up. 

old memorries. But it also showed me how much I’ve grown. Eight years ago, I couldn’t have set boundaries with him. I couldn’t have said no, couldn’t have asked for what I needed. Now I can. And that’s the real story–not that he hurt me, but that I learned to stop hurting myself.” 

The room was silent for a beat. 

Then someone started clapping, and others joined in.