Less than a year after a ceasefire agreement between Israel and the Hamas resistance group was established, the promise of peace remains unfulfilled. According to officials and media reports, Israeli strikes have continued, thousands remain displaced, and for those living with the war’s physical and psychological scars, daily life is still shaped by loss and uncertainty.
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 day, heading to her job as a social counsellor at a facility in northern Gaza. Although the roads remain dangerous and the war continues, she had little option but to keep working after an Israeli strike destroyed their home and business, leaving her as the sole provider for their family of seven.
One morning, Abu Kuwaik says panic took hold of him when he did not receive the daily message from his wife. On her way to work, Salma was injured in an Israeli strike in the al-Ghazali area of northern Gaza. Shrapnel lodged in her body, 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 telling him, “I am with you, do not be afraid”. When he visits her in the hospital, he goes close to her ears every time and tells her: “don’t be afraid. We are all with you.” Before the strike, Salma was part of every detail of Adam’s life. She prepared his meals, combed his hair, helped him choose his clothes and followed his studies. Now, Adam carries a picture of her to show his brothers and sisters so they don’t forget her smile.
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, Hamas said 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 continued across Gaza.
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. July was the deadliest month of the year, with 152 Palestinians killed. 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 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. Before the war, he owned a poultry shop, a chicken farm and a home in Gaza City’s Shuja’iyya neighbourhood.
The Israeli strike 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,” Nayef recalls. Today, he sells whatever he can carry with one hand. 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, he considered moving his stall elsewhere, but 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 trauma extends to families who lost loved ones during the ongoing hostilities. One family, who had gone out to buy Eid clothes, returned to a scene of devastation. “If we had not gone to buy Eid clothes, Dad would still be with us,” says 12-year-old Raghad. Her father was killed in a strike that left the family facing a lifetime of loss. “Instead, we returned to a funeral and a lifetime of loss,” the family noted.
Raghad, the eldest daughter, has not worn the clothes they bought that day. Holding her mother’s hand, she expresses the pervasive fear felt by many children in the territory: “I’m afraid to move away from her. I’m afraid she will leave too.” This sentiment is echoed by thousands of children across Gaza who have lost parents, siblings, and their sense of security in a conflict that shows no signs of concluding.
As the diplomatic stalemate continues, the civilian population remains trapped in a cycle of violence. The lack of a permanent ceasefire, combined with the destruction of infrastructure and the collapse of the local economy, has pushed families to the brink. For people like Abu Kuwaik and Nayef, the wait for a genuine end to the hostilities is not just a political concern, but a desperate daily struggle for survival and the preservation of what remains of their families.
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.
I tell them she is only sleeping, and she will wake up soon.”
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.
