Although haunted by loss and uncertainty, Palestinians find relief in wedding celebrations and cups of coffee.

Deir el-Balah, Gaza — Late on October 8, 2025, while everyone else in the house was asleep, I lay awake scrolling through my phone and journalist chat groups for updates. There were conflicting accounts from the ceasefire talks — of progress, setbacks, hope and doubt.

As my phone battery dwindled, I finally drifted off to sleep, stirred occasionally by distant shelling that told me what my phone couldn’t.

When I awoke just before dawn on October 9, my wi-fi was dead. I rushed to the roof, searching for an eSIM signal. The sun was rising as updates loaded onto my phone, and there it was: “Announcement of a ceasefire agreement in Gaza — to take effect within hours.”

I looked at the houses and tents where everyone still slept, saddened that we were the last to know. Then joy hit me. “Wake up, the war is over,” I shouted.

“Swear it?” my husband said. It was around 6:45am, and he was only half awake. I showed him the headlines, and gradually, the rest of the house, including my father, sisters, and my brother and his family, awoke to the news. They had all been staying with me since being displaced from the north. Everyone was in disbelief, but my daughter Banias, nine, beamed.

“Really? Are you serious?” she asked, before she jumped with happiness, tears rolling down her cheeks.

A little girl crying from joy.

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