For many Iranians, the ceasefire was a welcome development, not quite a cause for national celebration, yet far too significant to ignore, as it finally brought an end to relentless bombardment. But there are still segments of the population who view the abrupt pause in hostilities through a very different lens.
In the early hours of Wednesday, 8 April, following hours of gruelling negotiations brokered by the Pakistani government, Tehran and Washington reached an agreement.
The ceasefire halts the exchange of fire on all fronts in return for the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, a breakthrough that arrived just as US President Donald Trump had issued a stark warning that, absent a deal, he would strike Iran's infrastructure and "destroy Iranian civilisation." Reactions across Iran have been decidedly mixed. While life has tentatively returned to the streets, fear, uncertainty, and deep anxiety about the future remain at the forefront of public consciousness.
The morning in Tehran began with a clear blue sky and crisp spring air, a picture that felt almost surreal for a city that had just been gripped by war.
Yet accounts from across the capital suggest the calm is entirely fragile. Some residents reported hearing the sporadic thud of air defence systems in the initial hours following the ceasefire announcement, a chilling reminder sufficient to drag minds back to the terror-filled nights of the recent past.
For Mohammad, a 42-year-old factory worker, the ceasefire's most immediate meaning was a reunited family. "When the war started, I sent my wife and kids away from Tehran," he tells The New Arab. "Even though our work was erratic and they often told us not to come in, we were ordered to stay in the city to keep short shifts running."
The separation from his wife and nine-year-old daughter, whose school had been shut since the conflict began, took a heavy emotional toll. They had fled to Tafresh, a town near Arak in Markazi province, to stay with his sister-in-law. "I'm so happy they came back on the second day of the ceasefire, and we are a family again."
Mohammad is now desperate for an economic breakthrough. He fears that without improvement, he will be laid off and unable to afford the skyrocketing cost of living that has already become unbearable.
His fears are grounded in hard data: official economic figures show that year-on-year inflation reached a historic record of 71.8 percent by the end of Esfand , the final month of the Iranian calendar year falling in late March, exponentially driving up living expenses for Iranian households during the war's first month. 'The shadow of war will constantly hover' Farrokh, 57, a private financial sector executive with more than 33 years of experience, is relieved by the truce but warns that the status quo is unsustainable. "A ceasefire has been established, but things won't stay this way," he says, pointing to the severe toll the conflict has taken on Iranian businesses.
"Many of the small and large companies we advise have faced massive struggles. Layoffs and defaulting on financial obligations are rampant," he notes.
"If this ceasefire drags on without an agreement, the shadow of war will constantly hover over the country. Coupled with sanctions, it will become a tool for permanent pressure on the Iranian economy. This will cripple many businesses."
A return to hostilities, he adds, would be equally catastrophic. "Neither scenario is desirable, and the possibility of either happening makes me incredibly anxious."
Farrokh believes the only viable path forward is a lasting peace agreement accompanied by the reduction or total lifting of sanctions . As for hopes harboured by some factions that US airstrikes might trigger the collapse of the political system, he is dismissive: "That was a childish dream. It was obvious it wouldn't happen."
The psychological cost of the war has cut across age and profession. Elnaz, a 24-year-old programmer who joined a startup nine months ago, describes an intimate dimension of the crisis. "Our company paid our salaries in full, even when we couldn't work due to the war or had to work remotely," she tells The New Arab. "Even though the economic outlook has worsened significantly, my main problem was the toll it took on my personal life."
The impact was severe. "I literally couldn't sleep at night because of the fear. The stress gave me terrible new habits, like plucking my eyebrows or biting my nails, which I'm still doing. Every time a door slammed, I thought it was an explosion and panicked."
Now taking doctor-prescribed sleep medication, Elnaz, who lives with her parents, is grateful for the reprieve, even if she does not trust it. "Neither my parents nor I have any hope that this ceasefire will last," she admits.
"But it is at least a brief window to return to normal life: to go out, eat at a restaurant, go shopping, and live like normal human beings." 'We are left behind' Not everyone greets the ceasefire with relief. Kimia, a 31-year-old nurse at a state hospital in the southeastern city of Kerman, feels profound resentment at the abrupt halt to the conflict. She believes the heavy human cost was squandered without achieving regime change .
"All these people were killed, all these promises were made, and then suddenly they just drop it and leave," she says.
"We are left behind with the exact same situation as before the war, if not worse."
Kimia had harboured hopes that the conflict might ultimately pave the way for a secular government that would protect civil liberties and democracy.
She notes that while Kerman was repeatedly targeted during the war, the scale of the attacks was notably smaller compared to what her friends experienced in Tehran and Tabriz.
Her voice represents a constituency that has received little international attention: Iranians who did not simply want the bombing to stop, but wanted it to mean something.
This weekend, high-stakes negotiations between Iran and the United States , mediated by Pakistan, are set to begin in Islamabad. Despite fundamental differences between the two sides, there remains a glimmer of hope for a comprehensive deal. Both parties have publicly declared their full readiness to resume fighting if the talks collapse.
The Iranian delegation will be led by Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf , the speaker of the Iranian parliament, and will be accompanied by Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi . On the American side, Vice President JD Vance will lead the negotiations, joined by Steve Witkoff , the president's special envoy, and Jared Kushner , the president's son-in-law.
For Iranians like Elnaz, Mohammad, Farrokh, and Kimia, each navigating this moment from a different vantage point, the talks carry the weight of everything: jobs, families, futures, and a reckoning with what the past weeks cost and whether it was worth it.
The ceasefire has given them a breath of air. Whether it becomes something more durable depends on the rooms they have no access to. Ariya Farahmand is an Iranian journalist This article was published in collaboration with Egab