She took portraits of civilians who decided to stay in the city, asking them what the war meant to them and how it has affected their lives. “Some people had to keep working. Some stayed home and endured the hours in uncertainty.

Some were focused on protecting loved ones. Others tried to hold on to a sense of normal life as that life became increasingly fragile,” said Rahmanian, who works in Tehran with the permission of the government. “These stories do not offer a complete account of the war.

They offer something narrower, but no less essential: a record of how war is lived, carried, and remembered by those who remain inside it.” Salemeh, 35 “I was at work around 9:40 a.m. when I heard the sound,” Salemeh told Rahmanian, recounting when the war began. “Everyone was very scared. We went up to the rooftop and saw the smoke.” They were all asked to go home.

Salemeh, a human resources manager, was the last person to leave. “When I stepped outside, the atmosphere felt very different,” she said. “The streets were extremely crowded.

Mothers were crying. A route that usually takes me 40 minutes took nearly three hours. “What caught my attention the most was the schoolchildren – it was truly a very striking scene.

You could clearly see stress and anxiety among people.” The traumatic scenes have left a heavy toll on Salemeh’s mental health. “I jump at every noise, wondering if something has been hit again,” she said. “There is construction near our house, and even those constant sounds make me anxious.” “Now I truly understand what it means to live with the fear of war in your own country.

Our daily routine has changed, and nothing feels normal anymore.” Maryam Rahmanian Akram, 63 The destruction and loss of war reminds Akram how it was during the Iran-Iraq War in the 1980s. “It feels as if history is repeating itself in front of my eyes,” she told Rahmanian. “When I see destroyed buildings in Tehran, I remember Khorramshahr, where entire streets were reduced to rubble.

In Narmak, a building was hit and only one child survived. He was pulled out from under the rubble, crying and asking for his mother – his mother who was gone. I had seen similar scenes during the Iran-Iraq War: children left alone after losing their entire families.” A major difference, of course, is the technology.

“Now we receive news within seconds on our phones, while in the past information was passed person to person,” she said. “I followed the news constantly, and I believe that when casualty numbers are not fully announced, it is not necessarily to lie, but sometimes to prevent fear and panic.” “I believe Israel and the United States have manipulated the situation, and I am proud that we have stood against a superpower and defended ourselves. For me, it is an honor to stand firm and say we resisted.” Maryam Rahmanian Rezvaneh, 22 Rezvaneh is a Korean language instructor.

She remembers waking up early for an online class when the bombing began. “Half an hour before the session, the sound of a powerful explosion shattered the calm,” she said. “I reached for my phone to inform my student— but the internet was suddenly cut off.

Shortly after, my student managed to send a message: ‘War has started.’ From that moment, everything changed.” With no access to the internet, all her classes were suspended. “It didn’t just stop my work – it cut me off from normal life,” she said. “Fear quickly settled in.

I live next to a mosque, and that made everything more frightening. I kept thinking it might become a target.” “Nights became the hardest. Every time I tried to sleep, my heart would start racing uncontrollably.

To cope, I turned to small distractions – reading books, watching films – but the anxiety never fully left me.” “One night in particular is unforgettable. During the first week, I woke up to the relentless sound of explosions. The windows were shaking violently, and fear filled every corner of my home.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. My heart was pounding so hard that resting was impossible.” Maryam Rahmanian Sara, 39 Sara was driving her boyfriend to his university on the first day of the attacks. “We were near the campus when I first heard the sound,” she said.

“At first, I thought it was a protest. Then the explosions came. Smoke rose from the center of the city. I panicked and ran a red light to get away.

What is usually a 20-minute drive home took two hours. Streets were blocked. The city I love was under attack.” Her mother told her not to come back home.

Power cuts left their neighborhood in darkness. “But I stayed in Tehran,” Sara said. “My attachment to my home and my life here is why I remain. I will stay