The two Iranian nationals taken between Israeli bombs and family ties | News Israel-Iran Conflict

Tehran, Iran – The suitcases roll through Tehran, but this time, it is not for holidays or family celebrations. They are packed in a hurry and out of fear – the symbols of increasing anxiety gripping the 10 million residents of the Iranian capital with which they are confronted Israeli missiles.

While the Iranians rushed to find shelter, nationals of the Iranian-American double find themselves taken in the cross fires of war and geopolitical uncertainty.

Amir, a 36 year old Tesla engineer and national double, went to Tehran UNITED STATES A few weeks before the Israeli air strikes that started reaching targets across Iran. He had visited his family and had spent quiet days with them on Mount Damavand, located about 60 kilometers northeast of the capital. His return flight to the United States has already been reserved, but a few days before it was planned, Israel launched his attacks.

When the bombs started to fall, Amir found himself seized by fear, not only of war, but to be written and to become a victim of politics out of control.

“I was not afraid at the beginning. Being with my family brought me peace,” said Amir, who preferred not to share his last name for security reasons. He recalled how much he had been more worried about the security of his family during Iranian anti-government demonstrations in 2022, looking from afar in the United States. “At the time, I was constantly anxious, glued to the news, worrying for my family. But now, being in Tehran and Damavand, I could see that life was still going,” he said.

But he quickly decided that it was too risky to stay in Iran. A holder of the American green card, Amir feared the growing possibility that President Donald Trump reintroduces a ban on traveling to the Iranians and feared that he includes those who have a permanent residence, like him. With a feeling of emergency, Amir has chosen to leave.

Cross borders, leave loved ones

Fearing for his life and future, Amir began a long journey by land. On Monday, he left for a night’s bus for the city of West Iran of Urmia, an 11 -hour trip. From there, he continued by the road to Van, in the east of Turkiye, who took another six hours. He then climbed up an internal flight to Ankara, from where he flew to the United States on Thursday.

For Amir, fleeing was not only a logistical challenge; It was emotionally traumatic. “If it was not the fear of being enlisted and the possibility of a New travel ban from the Trump eraI would have stayed close to my loved ones, “he said.” It is more difficult in the United States. “”

Behrouz, a 41 -year -old postdoctoral researcher based in San Francisco, faced a similar choice. He had visited his hometown of Mashhad, in northeast Iran, when he was struck by one of the longest missile attacks in Israel.

“I tried to stay calm for the first two days,” he recalls. “But then, I had to face reality: this conflict has nothing to do with the past. At least for the coming months, the sky will not be clear or open.”

Traditionally, Behrouz would end his trips to Iran with a walk in the courtyard of the Sacred Imam Reza sanctuary, picking up the saffron and the candies for colleagues in the United States. But this time, he left in a hurry. The trip was long: 10 hours by car in Tehran, nine others in Urmia, then through the Razi border crossing Turkiye. “It took about 20 minutes to pass the checkpoint,” he said, but what followed was an exhausting bus trip from 22 hours to Istanbul.

Behrouz explained that he had to leave because of his work. “But my heart is still there with my family and with people,” he said, his voice breaks.

“We are against Israel and the Iranian regime,” he added. “We are millions of ordinary Iranians made in the midst of decisions taken by politicians who do not represent us.”

Behrouz’s words echo the silent despair of many others. The Azerbaijani media reported that around 600 Iranian-American Iranian nationals had crossed North West Iran via the Astara border in southern Azerbaijan with the support of the United States Embassy. Online, the coordination of the trip has prospered in Iranian-American Facebook groups. A user asked: “My flight was scheduled for late June. Should I try to go out by Armenia or Turkiye? ” Another advised: “Bring additional fuel. Service stations limit purchases to 10 liters per car. ” Some have even pooled resources to rent a van for the trip to the Turkish border.

For those who manage to leave, logistics is complex – but often less painful than emotional burden.

Stay behind – and get cut

Not everyone leaves. AFSANEH, a 43 -year -old blogger and mother of lifestyle who lives in northern California, had transported herself to Iran with her seven -year -old daughter before the war. Despite the warnings of the US State Department urging citizens to leave, she wrote on Instagram that she had no intention of returning – at least for the moment.

“This is where I want to be,” she wrote in a recent article. “With my family, during this period.”

Others had no choice but to look from far while their loved ones live through the strikes.

Maryam Mortazavi, a 38 -year -old Iranian Canadian living in Toronto, had sent her parents and sister on a summer trip to Iran two weeks before the air strikes start. Ten days after their stay, bombs hit the city in the northwest of Tabriz near their residence.

“I was on a vague video call with them, hearing explosions and air defense systems,” said Mortazavi. His family fled to Urmia nearby for safety. On Wednesday afternoon, the Iranian government had closed internet access. Maryam lost all contact with them.

“I can’t even get out of bed-I’m so worried,” she said, decomposing. “I just hope they find a VPN that works and reaches me.”

This play was published in collaboration with Egab.