Why Does The Protagonist In 'A God Of Unsignaled Left Turns' Make Unsignaled Left Turns?

“But I have lifted my voice in pain to pray to you too. Am I irrelevant? I have done that since I was born. Do I not matter? Do the gods segregate as well?” “Feisty…” he replied, but before he could continue, I glanced at the edge of the cliff for a second, then turned back to him and smiled. “I refuse to be useful to these people you love so much. Even in my death,” I said as I jumped off the cliff. It was the beginning of my complicated fate with the gods and the end of my suffering with werewolves.

On the heavy traffic road rushing my father to the hospital due to a cerebral hemorrhage, we ran into my husband, who was directing traffic as a police officer. My mother was about to wind the window down and beg him for help, but I immediately stopped her and decisively turned the steering wheel, taking a narrow side road instead. In my previous life, at this exact situation, after a brief moment of hesitation, my husband had chosen to clear a path for us and personally escorted my father to the hospital. That very night, his childhood sweetheart, out of spite because he hadn't answered her calls, turned on the gas and killed herself. He seemed utterly unaffected by her death. He even organized a welcome-home party for my father when he was discharged from the hospital. But on the day of the party, he poisoned every dish on the table. "It's because of you and your damn father! If it weren't for you, Rosalin wouldn't have killed herself! You're the ones who drove her to death! You should pay for her life!" When I opened my eyes once more, I had returned to the day my father collapsed. This time, my husband answered the phone. Without a second thought, he ran to his childhood sweetheart. Yet, why had he still come to regret it?

"You woke me up," a cold voice echoed from the shadows. Ivana gasped awake, heart pounding, unsure if it was a dream—or something far more dangerous. ~~~~~~~~~~ Years ago, Ivana should have died in her mother’s womb—until a mysterious seer performed a forbidden ritual to save her. The price? The unborn child had to be betrothed to a god, bound to him for life without her parents ever knowing the true cost. On Ivana’s eighteenth birthday, her parents mysteriously vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a notebook filled with strange symbols and cryptic warnings. Now, years later, her search for answers leads her to Egypt, where she joins an archaeological team investigating a newly uncovered chamber. Deep inside, they break a seal that should have remained untouched… and awaken the very god she was promised to. A god who despises humans. With divine wrath rising, ancient secrets unraveling, and a bond she never asked for tightening around her fate, Ivana must confront the truth: The answers to her parents’ disappearance begin with the god she was forced to belong to.

There are a lot of supernatural beings around us that we didn't know they're actually living or true. Once they are just a myth, a fantasy, a mere story, but then one day, you didn't realize it was standing right in front of you now. Avis Clove, just like a normal people, we have a lot of questions about the existence of gods or deities. And sometimes those questions don't meet their answers. She grew up knowing the stories of her grandmother about a two gods and one girl who's in between of the gods, and she believes it was just fantasy story that is just made up by her grandma. But, then she met the characters in that story, and the questions in her mind starting to find its answers. In this novel, about the three people who is fated to meet each other, but leads to the most unwanted happenings of their life. What will they do? What will Avis Clove choose? Will the love wins? Who will be the end game?

A blizzard had buried the mountain, turning every road into a death trap. Locals called it Deadman's Pass—seventy-two icy switchbacks with zero room for error. As the only person who had ever made it through without a scratch, I'd just gotten a million-dollar rescue call from beyond the final curve. Ten years ago, I went there once. My seventeen-year-old daughter, Maya, was skydiving with her classmates when a violent air current forced an emergency landing. The rescue came too late. She died there. Later, I learned my husband, Jayden Boone, had ignored Maya's safety. He poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into the rescue effort and redirected every team to save his ex's daughter instead. The girl had only sprained her ankle on a hiking trip. The day Maya died, I walked away from my career as a professor and stayed here, living as a broke driver. I risked my life running Deadman's Pass again and again until I knew every turn by heart. In the ten years since, no one else had died on that road. Today, a friend shoved a million-dollar rescue job in front of me and told me to leave right away. I looked at the face in the photo—the one I could never forget. Then I smiled and tossed my keys onto the table. "I can't take this job."

By the seventh year of my engagement to Tristan, he postponed our wedding for the third time. The reason was simple. His childhood sweetheart, Gabriella, had returned to the country. She had just gone through a divorce and was emotionally unstable. Tristan personally retrieved every invitation we had sent out, his tone calm and steady. "Gabby has no one by her side right now. I can't upset her at a time like this." I held the ring that had already been resized twice and asked, "What about me?" Tristan glanced at me. "You're different. You're sensible." I had been hearing that word for seven years. Sensible. When his startup failed, I sold the old house my grandmother had left me to help him pay off his debts. When he suffered a gastric hemorrhage, I stayed at the hospital for three days straight and missed my own promotion defense. When his mother said my background was too ordinary for him, he only rubbed his temples and said, "Tori, don't make this difficult for me." Every time, I nodded. He once told me that no matter how thick the fog became, he would always leave a light on for me. Until the day Gabriella stood in front of the mirror wearing my wedding dress and smiled as she asked, "Victoria, you don't mind, do you? Tristan said your wedding's being postponed anyway." Tristan stood behind her. He did not deny it. He even reached out and adjusted her veil for her. The fog lamp he had given me with his own hands sat by the display window of the bridal shop. It was still lit, illuminating someone else in the white dress I had waited seven years to wear. Only then did I realize that some roads were not lost because the fog was too thick. It was because he had never planned to come for me at all.