DUBAI – As the sun set over Tehran, Zahra Arghavan and Mehdi Alishir stood on their balcony, bracing themselves for the potential sound of incoming airstrikes.
The clock is ticking on U.S. President Donald Trump’s latest ultimatum, and the couple’s minds are filled with unsettling questions: What if power plants are targeted—how long would the blackout last? If the bridges are destroyed, how would they escape the city?
Now five weeks into this tense period, the noise of American and Israeli fighter jets has become a part of their daily life, along with the explosions and restless nights. Like many others, they have left and returned to the capital in a desperate search for a sense of safety. Married for over ten years, they have already weathered the COVID-19 pandemic and last June’s 12-day conflict.
They’ve taken precautions by reinforcing their windows with clear packing tape to minimize damage from blasts. Mirrors and fragile items have been secured or relocated. A bag packed with crucial documents, medications, and essentials sits ready should a quick evacuation become necessary.
In a profanity-laced statement over the weekend, President Trump warned that “Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day,” adding that Iranian leaders would be “living in Hell” if the Strait of Hormuz is not opened.
“Honestly, the situation is really unclear,” Arghavan confessed. “We don’t truly understand what might happen, like how long a power outage could last or how life without electricity would even be.”
Alishir said he and his wife could handle life without power — and potentially without running water — for a week at most. “If it goes on longer, we’ll definitely run into problems,” he said.
Their struggles began even before the first American and Israeli bombs slammed into Iran on Feb. 28.
The Iranian government’s crackdown on nationwide protests in January severely limited internet access. The internet monitoring organization NetBlocks says it’s the longest nationwide shutdown ever recorded.
Arghavan runs a small language school that teaches French to Iranians who want to live in the Canadian province of Quebec.
“We were basically an online school, and our students had classes with kids abroad,” she said. “Around 50% of our learners were outside the country. But now, with all these internet outages, it’s really disrupting our work.”
Iranians are divided over the war: Some take part in daily pro-government rallies; others quietly cheer the strikes against their leaders while condemning the deaths of civilians and damage to infrastructure.
The couple blames Israel and the U.S. for starting the war and hope for a diplomatic solution.
“I really hope an agreement is reached soon and that whatever happens, it ends up helping people, because right now people are the ones paying a heavy price,” Arghavan said.
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