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459 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 4, 2025
The Obedient Bow by Samirah Zaman Rating: ★★★★☆ Standalone Contemporary South Asian Fiction
“Nothing, because I would be a fool to think the hands that broke me are capable of fixing me. I'll do that on my own.”
This book hurt. And I mean that in the best and worst way possible.
The Obedient Bow is a powerful, nuanced, and emotionally grueling exploration of a marriage built not on love, but on control — and the resilience it takes to survive it, reclaim identity, and find healing. It’s one of those books that doesn’t just tell a story; it reflects the lived reality of far too many women.
What worked:
The forced marriage between Zoya and Idris is heartbreaking to witness. Their wedding night — no sugarcoating — is revolting. It made me sick, and that’s the point. It’s not glorified. It’s not softened. It’s real and raw, and it made me want to scream for Zoya. The dichotomy of loving one side of a man and fearing the other was portrayed with such painful accuracy. The emotional manipulation, the trauma-bonding, the glimmers of tenderness woven through layers of abuse — it’s uncomfortable, but it’s important. This isn’t just cultural. It’s universal. Pain like this crosses all lines. Zoya’s arc is the heart of this book. Watching her reclaim herself after everything — the pregnancies, the losses, the abuse, the betrayal — is what kept me going. She becomes whole again, but on her own terms. No one gets to “fix” her. She does that herself. The third pregnancy loss (spoiler) was absolutely devastating. Idris’s reaction was a low point for him, and a moment that showed how deeply broken he still was. That scene stayed with me — the silence, the grief, the cruel words. It felt like real mourning. Not just for the child, but for the hope of what their relationship could have been. And then… the roses. God. That scene destroyed me in a completely different way.Zoya: “Why are you standing like that?” He wore a flustered look as one hand was hidden behind his back. Idris: “I wanted to give you something.” A tinge of pink covered his cheeks as he revealed the present. Zoya: “Roses?” Idris: “Nineteen roses, to be exact. Fourteen for the years we've shared, each one a testament to our vows. One for my love for you. One for each of the children you've given me. And this one,” he said softly, as he touched the single delicate white rose, “this one is for the little one running free in heaven.” Zoya: “Idris—” Idris: “You have carried four of my children. Therefore, you are a mother of four.”I don’t have words. Just tears. This was his redemption moment — not because he became perfect, but because he finally saw her.
What didn’t:
There were moments when the pacing lagged, especially in the middle chapters. I felt like the emotional tension built up beautifully but was delayed a bit too long before the resolution started to unfold. Idris’s shift toward redemption, while satisfying in the final chapters, may feel too sudden or unearned for some readers. It worked for me because it wasn’t clean or complete — but I can understand if others wanted a bit more groundwork.Final thoughts: This is a story about pain, resilience, motherhood, and the quiet strength of women who survive the worst and still choose to stand up again. It’s heavy. It’s triggering. It’s not a romance, not really — it’s about healing.
4/5. Not because it was flawless, but because it mattered. And I’ll be thinking about Zoya for a long, long time.
Trigger warnings: Forced marriage, sexual assault, emotional abuse, miscarriage, grief, PTSD, gender-based violence. Your mental health matters — please read with care.