It began with silence, a hush that held Tel Aviv in its tender grip. In the dawn’s soft glow, the city stood still, the sea itself pausing in reverence.

Then, as whispers of the final hostages crossing the border swept through, the city exhaled — its heart unshackled, pulsing with fervent relief.

Screens bloomed with faces no one dared dream would return. Twenty souls — thin, pale, blinking into daylight — stepped into the world’s embrace, each a universe reclaimed from the abyss.

In the square that had cradled their portraits for two years, voices rose in a passionate song. Flags unfurled like declarations of the heart, colours dancing in the wind. Chants swelled and ebbed like waves of longing, singing for those alive and the 28 whose absence ached like a wound.

Among the first was E

See Full Page