For the families racing back to Khiam and Bint Jbeil, the promised peace lasted barely long enough to unpack. Israeli tank fire and drone strikes continue to rattle the border, leaving thousands wondering if the US-brokered deal exists anywhere outside of a televised press conference.
The deal was supposed to halt 14 months of escalating bloodshed. Instead, it’s created a lethal gray zone where “suspicious activity” is met with immediate Israeli fire. For the displaced trying to reach their front doors, the risk hasn’t shifted, even if the diplomats say the war is over.
On Tuesday, the Israeli military confirmed strikes on several sites in southern Lebanon, claiming they targeted Hezbollah members violating the agreement. Lebanese security sources reported at least two people wounded by artillery near the border. “We heard there was a truce, so we came back,” said Ali Mansour, a resident of a border village who spoke by phone while retreating from the sound of shelling. “But the sky is still full of drones. It doesn’t feel like peace.”
Under the terms of the agreement, the Lebanese Army and UN peacekeepers are meant to take control of the south as Israeli forces gradually withdraw over a 60-day period. That transition is proving messy and dangerous. The IDF says it won’t tolerate any Hezbollah presence south of the Litani River, and they’re using live fire to enforce that boundary right now.
This isn’t just a slow start; it’s a test of the deal’s survival. If the Lebanese Army can’t deploy fast enough to fill the vacuum, and if Israel continues to strike what it deems “threats,” the ceasefire could collapse before the first week is out. The Lebanese government is urging citizens to stay away from frontline villages for their own safety, but the warning is falling on deaf ears for those who have spent months in crowded shelters.
For now, the roads heading south remain clogged with cars packed with mattresses and water tanks. These families aren’t waiting for a formal green light from the UN or a final signature in Beirut. They’re gambling their lives on a piece of paper that hasn’t yet silenced the guns.
