Novel & Cerita Sunday Without A God

“Are you suppose to even answer to him, I mean you’re a god.” He sips on the glass of water in front of him and I look into his bowl. It’s empty. That fast? “I think that it’s time you go to bed, Isabella.” He stands to his feet and discards his plate. Sorry, I mean, he washes his bowl. Are gods supposed to do that? “Stop analyzing me, Isabella.” I didn’t notice how his body tenses up until he speaks and my eyes narrows. “Why won’t you tell me about this god stuff.”

"With me. I want you to know that." He looks at me. Not the composed look. The other one. The window look, where the room behind it is briefly visible. "I know," he says. "I'm learning." "So am I." We sit with that. Two people at a kitchen table on a Sunday morning, both of them learning, which is all anyone can honestly say, and which is — I'm finding — enough. Later, I do the things Sundays require. Laundry. The particular pile of mail I've been navigating around for two weeks. A call to Mina, who picks up on the second ring and says, before I can speak: "Tell me everything."

I kissed her temple and murmured, “Good to see you, Ma.” “Even better to see you, son.” Anxiety danced in her eyes, and I wondered if she was concerned that I knew about her visit to Aela and apparently stirring shit when I’d asked her to do the opposite, but when I said nothing, she licked her lips and asked, “How’s Seamus? Are you ready to bring him to Sunday dinner yet?” That was four days away. I guessed I had time to prepare my kid, my atheist kid who didn’t believe in God—a discussion we’d had after watching a show called Naruto of all things—to church and then to the family home.

And I hated the idea of him hating me. “And you? Why don’t you kill on Sundays?” His question caught me off guard that I burst out laughing. I shifted on his lap before signing. “What do I say? We are catholic, and we believe Sundays to be sacred.” I shrugged my response, and he scoffed. “That’s rich coming from you.” I swatted his arm playfully, “Hey… what’s that supposed to mean?” “It screams hypocrisy to me. You do all the sins in the world and spare the world on Sundays? You have not even gone to church…” he pointed out, and it was my turn to scoff.

And for the first time in months — a single word slipped from his lips: “God…” End of Chapter 1🤭 •Chapter 2 – Sundays Without God Sunday mornings had become quieter in James’s world. Not because the city was silent Lagos never was but because he’d grown used to dodging its traditions. Once upon a time, Sunday meant worship, sermons, and shared prayers around a table with his family. Now, it meant sleeping in, coffee instead of communion, and sometimes, vague guilt gnawing at the edge of his chest. But not today.

Interesting Facts about the Lonely God that nobody asked for 1. Not many people know this but The Lonely God is an individual book in the trilogy Of Me and My Mate. The first book in the series is called My Mate is My Enemy, which is the story about Nefret’s grandparents. It was my first ever werewolf book on Wattpad. The second book in the series is called Chasing My Mate which is the story about Erika’s parents. You need not read the previous two books to read The Lonely God but if you are curious and have some penny to spare then you’ll find the books on Dreame. You’d have to pay to read though.

The Promise Nobody talked much on Sunday morning. God. Not because they were angry. Fair. Not because anything was wrong. Reasonable. The opposite. God. Everyone was still thinking about yesterday. Fair. The festival. Reasonable. The crowd. God. The empty stroller. Fair. The missing fifteen minutes. Reasonable honestly. Nobody had forgotten. God. Especially not Adrian. Fair. He hadn't slept well. Reasonable. Not even a little. God. Every time he closed his eyes—

The fiendish war had raged on since long before Elika was born, neither side showing compassion. The battles raged on through the centuries untamed and savage, no side allowing quarter. The deaths were heinous and unprincipled; those who died would not rest silently. Their sinful battle would continue onward, the souls forever locked in limbo where they would endure the tortures of death lingering on their monstrous souls. Not many remember the true beginning of the impure and putrid war, the centuries moulding and bending it into only myth. Those who do remember the beginning speak not of the times of peace, when all mystical beings lived together, when the gods worked as one to preserve an

THE heavens never spoke in whispers. They roared. Kael knelt at the edge of the celestial dais, his skin stripped of its golden glow, blackened now with the mark of divine betrayal. The air around him shimmered with judgment, each breath thick with the rancid stench of mortality. Above him, the gods loomed, their faces carved from the cold light of eternity. Their eyes held neither pity nor forgiveness—only a cruelty as infinite as the stars. “You, the god of storms, who once commanded the skies,” boomed the All-Father, his voice rattling the cosmos, “have desecrated the sacred laws. You dared to love what is beneath us. A mortal. A fleeting ember among our eternal flame.”

Thorne’s POV. The Next Day The morning sunlight creeping through the stained glass windows didn’t feel holy—it burned. Like judgment. Like God Himself was watching and keeping count. But I knew better. God stopped watching me a long time ago. I sat in the wooden chair behind my desk, shirt still half-buttoned, collar open. My hands rested on the arms of the chair like a king overseeing his own ruin. The church was quiet now. Clean. Holy. Just how they liked it.