Living in Limbo: Iranians Navigate a State of 'No War, No Peace'

In eastern Tehran, Sajjad, a man in his twenties, stands before the twisted steel and shattered concrete that was once his father's home. The rubble has remained untouched since the bombing.

"Who will rebuild all this?" he asks, his voice choked with grief.

Sajjad's despair mirrors the limbo faced by millions in the Iranian capital. A fragile ceasefire between the US and Iran has halted airstrikes, and Pakistan-mediated talks have taken Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi to Islamabad, Muscat, and Moscow in recent days.

Yet on Tehran's streets, the absence of bombs does not mean peace.

The Architecture of Waiting

Across the city, the disparity in recovery efforts is stark.

While workers hurriedly patch cracked facades and repair broken windows on partially damaged structures, completely flattened residential blocks and government buildings remain frozen in time.

Mohammad, a 39-year-old architect, explains that the cost of building an apartment has multiplied in recent months.

The US maritime blockade has continued to devalue the national currency, while damage to domestic steel companies has driven up material costs. The currency was already depreciated before the war due to decades of heavy US sanctions.

Even with money, deep psychological and security fears create larger barriers. Authorities have told displaced residents they must rebuild their properties themselves or wait for post-war public tenders once a firm peace is achieved.

"If war returns tomorrow, everything we build will be a new target," Sajjad says.

For Maryam, 52, the housing crisis is acute. Her home near the supreme leader's office was destroyed in the first wave of airstrikes.

Initially housed in a government-funded hotel, she recently received an eviction notice. While officials promise rental loans, she says the money is utterly insufficient.

"I don't know how we will live in a tiny apartment that resembles none of our memories and suits none of our needs," she says.

An Economic Blockade

In the Navvab Safavi neighborhood of western Tehran, streets are crowded and bazaars bustling as people rush to make up for days lost to war.

Yet the economic foundation is shaking.

Ashkbous, 43, an administrative employee at the Ministry of Health, notes that government price controls and long-standing self-sufficiency policies have staved off mass food shortages.

However, daily price volatility for electronics, meat, medicine, and construction materials is pushing low-income families to the brink.

The US naval blockade of southern ports is strangling the country's supply chains.

Tehran is trying to circumvent this grip via land routes through neighboring countries and a "shadow fleet" in the Gulf waters. But for Iranian traders, the logistical nightmare is intensifying.

Fereydoun, a 71-year-old merchant, says diverted shipments have severely disrupted delivery schedules and sent costs soaring, forcing customers to accept cheaper, lower-quality domestic substitutes.

"How can we order a container of goods when we don't know if tomorrow we'll wake up to the return of war or a tighter blockade?" Fereydoun asks, noting that many businesses have chosen to freeze operations entirely.

This deep sense of instability is shared by Yousra, a 47-year-old Tehran resident walking through the bustling but anxious markets.

"I feel like I'm really suspended between two walls," she says.

"The wall of anxiety about the resumption of war and the wall of hope for a political path to peace. What we are living today is neither peace nor war, but psychological and economic erosion."