Less than a year after a ceasefire agreement between Israel and the Hamas resistance group was established, the promise of peace remains unfulfilled for the people of Gaza. According to officials and media reports, Israeli strikes have continued unabated, thousands remain displaced, and for those living with the war’s physical and psychological scars, daily life is still defined by profound loss and the constant threat of violence.
For Salem Abu Kuwaik, that reality begins every morning with a message that no longer arrives. It was the text his wife, Salma, sent each day after reaching work safely. Salma left her tent sheltering displaced people as she did every morning, heading to her job as a social counsellor. Although the roads remain dangerous and the war continues, she had little option but to keep working as the sole provider for their family of seven. I was trying to rebuild my work and find a way to support the family again, Abu Kuwaik explains.
One morning, the daily message never came. On her way to work, Salma was injured in an Israeli strike in the al-Ghazali area of northern Gaza. Shrapnel lodged near her brain, and she has remained in Al Shifa Hospital ever since. I thought about asking her to resign a thousand times, he tells. I was afraid for her. But I didn’t have another option. I was trying to rebuild my work and find a way to support the family again.
Their 14-year-old son, Adam, recalls his mother’s strength before the tragedy. She was the heart of the home; she prepared his meals, combed his hair, helped him choose his clothes and followed his studies. When I visit her in the hospital, I go close to her ears every time and tell her: don’t be afraid. I am with you, do not be afraid, Adam says, echoing the words his mother once used to comfort him. I show the picture to my brothers and sisters so they don’t forget her smile. I tell them she is only sleeping, and she will wake up soon.
On July 30, US President Donald Trump announced what he described as a historic agreement to move the ceasefire into its next phase, centred on the disarmament of Hamas and other armed groups. However, the path to implementation remains blocked. Hamas stated it would not implement the agreement unless Israel halted its attacks and withdrew its forces, while Israel insisted it would not withdraw until Hamas was fully disarmed. With that deadlock unresolved, Israeli strikes have continued across the territory.
According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, more than 1,000 Palestinians have been killed and over 4,100 have been wounded since the ceasefire, considered the first phase of the truce, took effect in October 2025. UNICEF reports that approximately 1.1 million children in Gaza urgently need mental health, psychosocial support, and child protection services due to severe trauma, ongoing displacement, and the widespread destruction of essential infrastructure.
At the crowded al-Saraya Junction, one of the busiest intersections in central Gaza City, Mohammed Nayef spends his days in a struggle for survival. From a small roadside stall, he calls out to customers, selling household cleaning products and other basic items. His right arm ends above the wrist, which was amputated after an Israeli strike almost a year ago. Nayef, 46, is the father of five children who once owned a poultry shop and a home in Shuja’iyya before the war reduced his life to what he can carry with one hand.
The Israeli strike that maimed him targeted a vehicle nearby at the al-Saraya Junction, killing at least 10 people and injuring dozens of others in the area. I was among civilians, vendors and people passing by. I was not in a fighting area, he recalls. Each time an aircraft passes overhead, he looks up before returning to his customers. I have started watching the sky without even realising it, he tells.
After losing his hand, Nayef considered moving his stall elsewhere, but he ultimately decided against it. There is no point because I believe every place in Gaza can be targeted, he says. Every day, he visits wholesalers, selects the products he wants to sell, and carries boxes with one hand. The feeling of disability is painful. More than once, I hid from people I knew from university. I did not want them to see me like this, he admits.
The toll of the conflict is visible in the stories of those who lost everything in a single moment. For some, the trauma is compounded by the loss of loved ones during routine errands. Her eldest daughter, 12-year-old Raghad, has not worn the clothes they bought that day. If we had not gone to buy Eid clothes, Dad would still be with us, Raghad says. Holding her mother’s hand, she adds, I’m afraid to move away from her. I’m afraid she will leave too.
According to Gaza’s Health Ministry, July was the deadliest month of the year, with 152 Palestinians killed. On August 1, Gaza’s Civil Defence reported that rescue teams were still pulling bodies from the rubble of homes destroyed in recent strikes. The cycle of violence continues to disrupt any semblance of normalcy, leaving families to mourn in the shadow of a ceasefire that has yet to bring them safety.
As the international community debates the terms of disarmament and withdrawal, the people of Gaza remain trapped in the middle. For fathers like Abu Kuwaik and survivors like Nayef, the political negotiations in distant capitals feel disconnected from the daily reality of funerals, hospital visits, and the desperate search for a future in a land where the sky is still a source of terror.
On August 1, Gaza’s Civil Defence concluded a two-week search through the rubble of a flattened home in the Sabra neighbourhood, recovering 112 bodies, including 40 children.
Another 157 people remained missing, according to rescue official Mohammed Abu Dan, who said the force of the explosions had fused some victims into the concrete.
“Instead, we returned to a funeral and a lifetime of loss.”
After months of war, ordinary moments had become rare in Gaza, Naema Abdel Hadi says, adding that a trip to the market and a new outfit for Eid celebrations were small attempts to give her children a sense that their childhood had not entirely disappeared.
In May, during the Eid al-Adha celebrations, Naema entered a crowded clothing shop with her children while her husband waited outside.
She ran outside searching for her husband and found him lying on the street, covered in blood.
The bombing is still close, and the fear is still with our children,” Naema tells.