Nobody gets to read ahead.
That is the awkward part of being inside your own story: narrators only exist afterwards, in the retelling, with everything already sorted into shape. From in here it is just Wednesday and a phone call you are waiting on.
Owning it doesn't mean knowing how it ends. It means the decisions that are genuinely yours stay yours — what you agree to, who you tell, how you would like the bad days handled by the people around you.
That is a smaller authorship than it sounds, and a more real one.