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Sunday Every Week
It started with a chance encounter, as these things tend to usually do. But not how you're thinking. He had a chance encounter with my idiot brother and then proceeded to come to our house uninvited on Sunday, every week after that. I didn't think much of him, busy as I was dealing with my bachelor's degree, my chaotic siblings, and a traumatic memory from long ago I had yet to let go of. Just an average guy, with average looks and an average way with words. And although he fit perfectly in my relatively just as average life, I did not particularly like him. Really, I didn't. Shut up. But there was something about him. Maybe somewhere inside me, somehow I had an idea that he was the wrong guy. That he was linked to my past more than he was to my present.
But do I learn about it in time? No. No, I do not.
But do I learn about it in time? No. No, I do not.
380 pages, Paperback
Published April 19, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
November 6, 2025
3.75/5
Sunday Every Week, a story based on a typical Pakistani household. Rabab, 24, an elder sister, single and still studying has witnessed the toxic marriage of her parents and is still affected by it even though her father is already dead. Just like any other elder sister, her long suppressed rage now unleashes on wrong people at wrong occasions so now her family has reduced her personality to snappy.
One Sunday, she finds that her brother, out of habit, has brought home a stranger called Musab who soon becomes part of their family but refused to tell anything about himself.
Being a debut book, it has its weakness but you'll find a comfort in the familiarity it offers, the way it portrays the issues and flaws in Pakistani society, from the pressure of marriage on a girl, to the favourable behaviour of mothers towards their son, the corruption in feudal system, the abuse and shame experienced by students at the hands of teachers which is often not taken seriously, marital rape, lack of consent, the bonds and boundaries of a family, and most importantly the importance of communication.
Sunday Every Week, a story based on a typical Pakistani household. Rabab, 24, an elder sister, single and still studying has witnessed the toxic marriage of her parents and is still affected by it even though her father is already dead. Just like any other elder sister, her long suppressed rage now unleashes on wrong people at wrong occasions so now her family has reduced her personality to snappy.
One Sunday, she finds that her brother, out of habit, has brought home a stranger called Musab who soon becomes part of their family but refused to tell anything about himself.
Being a debut book, it has its weakness but you'll find a comfort in the familiarity it offers, the way it portrays the issues and flaws in Pakistani society, from the pressure of marriage on a girl, to the favourable behaviour of mothers towards their son, the corruption in feudal system, the abuse and shame experienced by students at the hands of teachers which is often not taken seriously, marital rape, lack of consent, the bonds and boundaries of a family, and most importantly the importance of communication.
August 31, 2025
From the very beginning, I found myself relating to Rabab so much. She goes through struggles that so many girls my age face, which made it super easy to get into her story. But then… things take a turn, and that’s where all the drama really kicks in. The family dynamics were captured beautifully, so real and engaging, and I was completely hooked, flipping pages to uncover the mysteries our MMC was hiding. 🤔
I did manage to guess some of the plot twists, but honestly, they were still really fun to read and kept me invested. If you enjoy books with relatable characters, a touch of mystery, and a whole lot of drama, this one should definitely be on your list!!! ❤
I did manage to guess some of the plot twists, but honestly, they were still really fun to read and kept me invested. If you enjoy books with relatable characters, a touch of mystery, and a whole lot of drama, this one should definitely be on your list!!! ❤
August 29, 2025
I knew even before I started this book that it would be a five-star read- not because I have always loved Zahra's writing, but because the fact that this book exists- the fact that it exists with its middle-class backdrop, its pakistani setting, with a strong desi woman placed at its center, and a stronger plot many of us can relate to on some level or another, and observations which question or indulge in all the nuances which make us what we are as a people- is enough for it to surpass all ratings.
The writing is simply beautiful. The narrator has such a strong presence that someone like me, who has never been able to read a book in crowded places because of the distractions, EASILY dived into it in a PACKED bus, drowning all noise behind me. Rabab is a very relatable, very needed heroine. I found so much of myself in her. Her character growth is beautiful. You can feel the calm she feels at the end reflected in you when you finish it. Her relationship with God and with her mother was also explored so painfully beautifully. As well as with her own self, her siblings, and Musab. COMING TO MUSAB- God their whole journey and dynamic was JUST. SO. WELL. DONE. LIKE??? I HAVE NO WORDS HOW WELL DONE IT WAS?? Loved all of their awkwardness and tenderness and messiness and realness.
By the end they all felt like family- Rabab, Mohsin, Sameen, Jia, Musab and Ammi- I genuinely cared so much about their well-being and happily ever afters that I literally cried happy tears at the end.
Sunday Every Week is the first book I've read twice, and I loved and appreciated it even more in this second reading. It has gotten very close to my heart- another comfort book I know I will reread many times and love even more in the future.
Looking forward to reading more from Zahra!
The writing is simply beautiful. The narrator has such a strong presence that someone like me, who has never been able to read a book in crowded places because of the distractions, EASILY dived into it in a PACKED bus, drowning all noise behind me. Rabab is a very relatable, very needed heroine. I found so much of myself in her. Her character growth is beautiful. You can feel the calm she feels at the end reflected in you when you finish it. Her relationship with God and with her mother was also explored so painfully beautifully. As well as with her own self, her siblings, and Musab. COMING TO MUSAB- God their whole journey and dynamic was JUST. SO. WELL. DONE. LIKE??? I HAVE NO WORDS HOW WELL DONE IT WAS?? Loved all of their awkwardness and tenderness and messiness and realness.
By the end they all felt like family- Rabab, Mohsin, Sameen, Jia, Musab and Ammi- I genuinely cared so much about their well-being and happily ever afters that I literally cried happy tears at the end.
Sunday Every Week is the first book I've read twice, and I loved and appreciated it even more in this second reading. It has gotten very close to my heart- another comfort book I know I will reread many times and love even more in the future.
Looking forward to reading more from Zahra!
May 10, 2025
I have grown up reading Zahra’s stories; early ambitious one shots with overarching plots and bad grammar (I will never let ‘thefting’ go), wattpad soap operas, awkward rom coms, and soulful pieces that mirrored life a little too painfully. If there's someone who knows her writing, it's me. And yet, I was still surprised by Sunday Every Week.
First, it's unique. It stands alone in what it's trying to represent, to fight for, in the way it's written, and in the characters it breathes life into. Read it and you'll understand.
Second, well, it’s funny, but not in the artificial sitcom way. It’s that kind of humor that lives in the quiet chaos of real life: the broken washing machines, the cracked mugs, the frustration when siblings skirt around chores, the guilt you feel for not doing the dishes while simultaneously resenting being expected to. That messy, lived-in space of a brown household? Zahra nailed it pretty well with dry, self-deprecating, painfully accurate humor.
What I appreciated most—though it was uncomfortable at times—was how brutally honest and just . . . real the narrator, Rabab, is. She’s not trying to be likeable. She’s just trying to survive. And honestly? I get that. It’s very raw and unfiltered. Relatable. The best example for me were all those times she wanted to say sorry and it just wouldn't come out. Like, yeah, real. I'm always lowkey impressed in all these movies and books when the characters feel bad about stuff and then just go up and apologize. Like, it really is that easy for some people.
Musab is both endearing and well-timed. Do I believe in men like him? Eh, I’m skeptical. But I do believe in how the story handles him: because he's not the dreamy hero, and that’s what makes him work. He’s not idealized. He’s awkward. Kind. Quiet in a way that’s both suspicious and refreshing. He helps shell peas without talking. He lets Rabab call him a potential rapist to his face and still offers her a Choco Pop. He doesn’t say the perfect thing, he says something real.
I love how their relationship progresses. They're not perfect, but they're trying, always trying. I cry whenever Rabab appreciates the tiniest little act of kindness from Musab as if it's a miracle because her standards are that low. I cry because it's a refreshingly honest representation of our society. This is how it really is, and it's sad.
Then there's the enduring Mohsin (love him), and Ammi, browbeaten into toxicity by the cogs of our society. The characters of Aisha, Sameen and Jia, and Musab’s father could have been delved more into but then the story would have been too long. On that note, the karmic downfall of Mr. Nawabzada felt very biblically wrapped and convenient, because bad things don't always end up happening to bad people, no matter how much you wish for it. But I guess sometimes, they do happen. It was pretty satisfying tho. There's that.
It's also very bold. How it handles Rabab's father's death, talking about religious guilt and growth, the quiet toxicity of some men that's just as harmful as the loud red flags, the taboo around periods in desi households, classroom abuse, and the flayed status of eldest daughters. There are some topics that are sometimes deemed too political or controversial to talk about in novels, but this one doesn't shy away from any of them. When it says it represents the everyday life of an average middle class Pakistani woman, it means every single aspect of that life, even the parts that some would deem unnecessary or uncomfortable.
There's also the structure of the book, with each chapter being a Sunday, it creates this surreal rhythm—like life is just repeating in loops while Rabab tries to evolve through the monotony. She’s growing in inches. Some Sundays she sulks. Some Sundays she smiles. And by the end, she hasn’t had some massive epiphany, she’s just… a little more alive.
If I had to critique anything, I’d say the narrative sometimes leans into interior monologue so much that scenes blur, but even that feels intentional. Because that’s what it’s like inside Rabab’s head. Tangled. Constant. Exhausting. And somehow hilarious.
Would I recommend it? Absolutely, but with caveats. This isn’t a story about big, dramatic turning points. It’s about the slow burn of becoming. The inching forward. The frustration. The small victories you don’t even realize are victories until later. If you’re the kind of reader who needs your characters to heal quickly or your plots to follow a three-act structure with a bow on top, this isn’t for you. But if you crave stories that feel like your own confused, brilliant, emotionally constipated thoughts have been laid bare on a page—then you’re in for something special.
First, it's unique. It stands alone in what it's trying to represent, to fight for, in the way it's written, and in the characters it breathes life into. Read it and you'll understand.
Second, well, it’s funny, but not in the artificial sitcom way. It’s that kind of humor that lives in the quiet chaos of real life: the broken washing machines, the cracked mugs, the frustration when siblings skirt around chores, the guilt you feel for not doing the dishes while simultaneously resenting being expected to. That messy, lived-in space of a brown household? Zahra nailed it pretty well with dry, self-deprecating, painfully accurate humor.
What I appreciated most—though it was uncomfortable at times—was how brutally honest and just . . . real the narrator, Rabab, is. She’s not trying to be likeable. She’s just trying to survive. And honestly? I get that. It’s very raw and unfiltered. Relatable. The best example for me were all those times she wanted to say sorry and it just wouldn't come out. Like, yeah, real. I'm always lowkey impressed in all these movies and books when the characters feel bad about stuff and then just go up and apologize. Like, it really is that easy for some people.
Musab is both endearing and well-timed. Do I believe in men like him? Eh, I’m skeptical. But I do believe in how the story handles him: because he's not the dreamy hero, and that’s what makes him work. He’s not idealized. He’s awkward. Kind. Quiet in a way that’s both suspicious and refreshing. He helps shell peas without talking. He lets Rabab call him a potential rapist to his face and still offers her a Choco Pop. He doesn’t say the perfect thing, he says something real.
I love how their relationship progresses. They're not perfect, but they're trying, always trying. I cry whenever Rabab appreciates the tiniest little act of kindness from Musab as if it's a miracle because her standards are that low. I cry because it's a refreshingly honest representation of our society. This is how it really is, and it's sad.
Then there's the enduring Mohsin (love him), and Ammi, browbeaten into toxicity by the cogs of our society. The characters of Aisha, Sameen and Jia, and Musab’s father could have been delved more into but then the story would have been too long. On that note, the karmic downfall of Mr. Nawabzada felt very biblically wrapped and convenient, because bad things don't always end up happening to bad people, no matter how much you wish for it. But I guess sometimes, they do happen. It was pretty satisfying tho. There's that.
It's also very bold. How it handles Rabab's father's death, talking about religious guilt and growth, the quiet toxicity of some men that's just as harmful as the loud red flags, the taboo around periods in desi households, classroom abuse, and the flayed status of eldest daughters. There are some topics that are sometimes deemed too political or controversial to talk about in novels, but this one doesn't shy away from any of them. When it says it represents the everyday life of an average middle class Pakistani woman, it means every single aspect of that life, even the parts that some would deem unnecessary or uncomfortable.
There's also the structure of the book, with each chapter being a Sunday, it creates this surreal rhythm—like life is just repeating in loops while Rabab tries to evolve through the monotony. She’s growing in inches. Some Sundays she sulks. Some Sundays she smiles. And by the end, she hasn’t had some massive epiphany, she’s just… a little more alive.
If I had to critique anything, I’d say the narrative sometimes leans into interior monologue so much that scenes blur, but even that feels intentional. Because that’s what it’s like inside Rabab’s head. Tangled. Constant. Exhausting. And somehow hilarious.
Would I recommend it? Absolutely, but with caveats. This isn’t a story about big, dramatic turning points. It’s about the slow burn of becoming. The inching forward. The frustration. The small victories you don’t even realize are victories until later. If you’re the kind of reader who needs your characters to heal quickly or your plots to follow a three-act structure with a bow on top, this isn’t for you. But if you crave stories that feel like your own confused, brilliant, emotionally constipated thoughts have been laid bare on a page—then you’re in for something special.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 26, 2026
this book had me so absorbed..i didnt wish for it to end so soon.
June 30, 2025
3.5 ⭐
First of all, a heartfelt thank you to Zahra Syeda for the review copy. I was really looking forward to reading Sunday Every Week, and it turned out to be quite an emotional and thought-provoking experience.
The book dives into a lot of important themes, especially from the lens of a Pakistani society, and that’s something I really appreciated. It’s not every day you get to read a book where the characters, language, culture, and conflicts feel so familiar and real.
One thing that stood out to me was the portrayal of women and the constant pressure they face, especially when it comes to marriage. The fear of getting married, the uncertainty about what kind of husband one might end up with, and the pressure to “settle” just because society expects you to. It was all portrayed very honestly. I could feel Rabab's anxiety and confusion, and I know a lot of women will relate deeply to that.
In Pakistani society, girls are often raised with a mindset where marriage is seen not just as a part of life but the ultimate goal. There’s this unspoken expectation to accept, adjust, and endure, even when something feels wrong. And that’s something Zahra really brings to the forefront in this book. Women are trained to be obedient, to shrink themselves, and to not question things too much. I think the book does a good job highlighting that internal conflict between wanting to live for yourself and still being weighed down by societal expectations.
Rabab as a character was very interesting. She’s not written to be easily likeable, which honestly made her more real. She has a very specific type of humor, self-deprecating, a a bit dramatic, and overly quirky at times. While I admired that she wasn't trying too hard to be the “perfect heroine,” some of her dialogues felt a little forced in the beginning. It was like she was trying too hard to be “not like other girls.” But with time, I understood her better.
Musab, on the other hand, is a complicated character, maybe a little too complicated. His emotional distance, lack of communication, and unresolved anger made it hard for me to connect with him. I do think Zahra was trying to show how trauma affects people and how men, especially in desi culture, are never taught to express their feelings in healthy ways. But I also think some parts of his personality could have been explored better.
Their dynamic as a couple was... confusing, to say the least. It was very up and down if that makes sense. Sometimes they’re bonding, sometimes they're saying the rudest things to each other, and then suddenly they’re fine again. I didn’t connect with the romance much. It felt underdeveloped. I think their relationship needed more growth.
I also want to talk about the writing style. The story is structured around Sundays, and I loved that! It gave the book a rhythm, almost like each Sunday was a journal entry into their lives. The use of cartoon references and pop culture(while a bit too much at times)made sense as a form of escape for Rabab. And the Punjabi lines sprinkled in was very cool.
Lastly, without spoiling anything, that twist with Musab’s phuppo really did shock me. It added a lot of weight to the story and explained so much about Musab’s behavior and past.
Final thoughts:
Sunday Every Week is a bold and emotional story that explores love, trauma, and the pressures of society in Pakistani culture. I didn’t fully connect with the romance, but I liked the important themes and how the book showed characters who are real and sometimes make mistakes.
Thank you again to Zahra Syeda for sharing this story with me.
First of all, a heartfelt thank you to Zahra Syeda for the review copy. I was really looking forward to reading Sunday Every Week, and it turned out to be quite an emotional and thought-provoking experience.
The book dives into a lot of important themes, especially from the lens of a Pakistani society, and that’s something I really appreciated. It’s not every day you get to read a book where the characters, language, culture, and conflicts feel so familiar and real.
One thing that stood out to me was the portrayal of women and the constant pressure they face, especially when it comes to marriage. The fear of getting married, the uncertainty about what kind of husband one might end up with, and the pressure to “settle” just because society expects you to. It was all portrayed very honestly. I could feel Rabab's anxiety and confusion, and I know a lot of women will relate deeply to that.
In Pakistani society, girls are often raised with a mindset where marriage is seen not just as a part of life but the ultimate goal. There’s this unspoken expectation to accept, adjust, and endure, even when something feels wrong. And that’s something Zahra really brings to the forefront in this book. Women are trained to be obedient, to shrink themselves, and to not question things too much. I think the book does a good job highlighting that internal conflict between wanting to live for yourself and still being weighed down by societal expectations.
Rabab as a character was very interesting. She’s not written to be easily likeable, which honestly made her more real. She has a very specific type of humor, self-deprecating, a a bit dramatic, and overly quirky at times. While I admired that she wasn't trying too hard to be the “perfect heroine,” some of her dialogues felt a little forced in the beginning. It was like she was trying too hard to be “not like other girls.” But with time, I understood her better.
Musab, on the other hand, is a complicated character, maybe a little too complicated. His emotional distance, lack of communication, and unresolved anger made it hard for me to connect with him. I do think Zahra was trying to show how trauma affects people and how men, especially in desi culture, are never taught to express their feelings in healthy ways. But I also think some parts of his personality could have been explored better.
Their dynamic as a couple was... confusing, to say the least. It was very up and down if that makes sense. Sometimes they’re bonding, sometimes they're saying the rudest things to each other, and then suddenly they’re fine again. I didn’t connect with the romance much. It felt underdeveloped. I think their relationship needed more growth.
I also want to talk about the writing style. The story is structured around Sundays, and I loved that! It gave the book a rhythm, almost like each Sunday was a journal entry into their lives. The use of cartoon references and pop culture(while a bit too much at times)made sense as a form of escape for Rabab. And the Punjabi lines sprinkled in was very cool.
Lastly, without spoiling anything, that twist with Musab’s phuppo really did shock me. It added a lot of weight to the story and explained so much about Musab’s behavior and past.
Final thoughts:
Sunday Every Week is a bold and emotional story that explores love, trauma, and the pressures of society in Pakistani culture. I didn’t fully connect with the romance, but I liked the important themes and how the book showed characters who are real and sometimes make mistakes.
Thank you again to Zahra Syeda for sharing this story with me.
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