In a small house in Gaza, Mouda woke up every day not knowing what the sky would bring. Sometimes it was quiet, but most days carried fear in the air. Still, she tried to stay strong—for her family, and especially for her sister, Naseeba.

Naseeba had been injured, and since that moment, life was no longer the same. She could no longer move like before, and the pain in her body was only part of the story. The silence in her eyes hurt Mouda even more.

Every morning, Mouda sat beside her sister, helping her drink water, fixing her pillow, and whispering gentle words. She didn’t always know what to say, but she stayed. That was her way of fighting—by not leaving.

At night, the sounds outside grew louder, and fear filled the room. Mouda would hold Naseeba’s hand tightly and tell her, “I’m here.” Sometimes that was all they had—those two words, repeated again and again like a promise.

There were moments when Mouda felt tired, when tears filled her eyes and her heart felt too heavy. But she never let her sister see her break. Because if Naseeba could still breathe through the pain, Mouda could stay strong beside her.

One day, as the sun slowly entered the room, Naseeba looked at Mouda and whispered, “Don’t leave me.” Mouda smiled softly, even though her heart ached, and replied, “I never will.”

In a place filled with hardship, their love became their shelter. And even when everything else felt uncertain, one thing remained true:

They were still holding on. Together.