Finally, a morning that isn’t gray, The sky is blue

The morning felt different, a calm laced with anticipation. The sounds of bombardment that people had grown used to had finally stopped, replaced by an unfamiliar silence.

Cautiously, children ventured out into the alleys, their eyes searching for a long-lost sense of safety. Mothers surveyed the destruction around their homes, trying to gather what remained of their lives and memories.

The air was heavy with a mix of quiet and the lingering scent of smoke and gunpowder. Yet, amid the devastation, there was a faint sense of relief. No one knew what tomorrow might bring, but for today, they could breathe—and that was enough.

On this first day of the ceasefire, hope was fragile, yet present. And most importantly, everyone clung to it, even with trembling hands.