<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Will the sky stop falling tomorrow?</strong>
</div>
<div>That’s what my little brother, Yaseen, whispers to me every night before he tries to sleep.
</div>
<div>He’s only fou, yet he already knows the sound of fear — the thunder of bombs, the cries of neighbors, the silence that follows when a home disappears.
</div>
<div>I’m Zeina, writing from Gaza; not from a home, but from a borrowed corner of safety. This is the story of my family, my parents, and my three younger siblings, including our little dreamer, Yaseen.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_1760982305790569_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>When Our World Fell Apart Overnight</strong>
</div>
<div>Just months ago, we had an ordinary life. My father was an engineer, proud, hardworking, always telling us that education could change everything. My mother stayed home, caring for us and making sure we never left for school hungry.
</div>
<div>Then one night, the ground shook. Our street, our home, turned to dust. We ran barefoot into the dark, holding on to each other. My father lost his job, our savings disappeared, and the walls that once protected us became rubble.
</div>
<div>Now, we live as the displaced, moving from shelter to shelter, sometimes with relatives, sometimes with strangers kind enough to take us in. Every day feels uncertain. Every night feels too long.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_1760982341599346_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Hope Is All We Have; And Sometimes, Not Even That</strong>
</div>
<div>We wake up each morning wondering how to find food or clean water. My mother pretends she isn’t hungry so we can eat. Yaseen asks if he can go to school again, and I don’t know how to tell him that even schools have vanished.
</div>
<div>There are moments I want to give up. But then I look at my family: my father's tired eyes, my mother’s trembling hands, my siblings trying to smile, and I remember that hope is the only thing we have left.
</div>
<div class="youtube-replace"><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_1760982379921668_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div class="youtube-replace"><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Why I Decided to Share Our Story With the World</strong>
</div>
<div>We were raised with dignity. to give, not to ask. For weeks, I hesitated to write this. But as days passed and the struggle grew heavier, my father said something that changed everything:
</div>
<div>“Zeina, asking for help is not weakness; it’s faith in humanity.”
</div>
<div>So here I am, sharing our story, not as victims, but as a family that refuses to stop believing in kindness.
</div>
<div>This campaign is our last lifeline, a way to survive today and rebuild tomorrow.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_1760982435671499_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>What Your Help Will Do</strong>
</div>
<div>Every euro you give will bring us closer to safety and stability:
</div>
<div>●	Shelter: A small, safe place to call home again.
</div>
<div>●	Food and Clean Water: Daily meals and drinkable water for our family.
</div>
<div>●	Medical Support: Medicine and treatment for my parents and siblings.
</div>
<div>●	Education: A chance for Yaseen and my sisters to return to school and dream again.
</div>
<div>Each donation. no matter how small, means a warm meal, a roof, or a night without fear.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><iframe media_type="0" media_id="SqX2T86iqTE" class="youtube-replace" title="YouTube video player" style="margin-bottom:20px;width:560px;height:315px;" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/SqX2T86iqTE/?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="1"></iframe>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>Our Dream: A Home, A School, and a Quiet Morning</strong>
</div>
<div>Yaseen dreams of a day when he can play football again, when the air smells like bread instead of smoke.
</div>
<div>My father dreams of rebuilding something, maybe not our old home, but a life where his children can smile without fear.
</div>
<div>And I dream of waking up one morning to silence, not because everything has ended, but because peace has finally begun.
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_176098407888606_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>
<div><strong>How You Can Help Us Breathe Again</strong>
</div>
<div>If you’ve read this far, it means you care. And that means more than you’ll ever know.
</div>
<div>Please, donate whatever you can; even a few euros can feed us for a day, give Yaseen clean water, or help us find a roof for the night. And if you cannot donate, please share this story. Every share can reach someone who can help us survive.
</div>
<div>We promise full transparency. We’ll share photos, updates, and thank-you messages at every milestone, so you can see how your kindness turns into life.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>From My Heart to Yours; Thank You
</div>
<div>Maybe tomorrow, when Yaseen asks if the sky will stop falling, I’ll finally be able to say, “Yes, because people around the world cared enough to hold it up for us.”
</div>
<div>Thank you for reading, for sharing, and for believing in families like mine.
</div>
<div>With all my heart,
</div>
<div>– Zeina
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>Every donation is a breath of life. Every share is a whisper of hope.
</div>
<div><strong><em>Please help us save Zeina’s family and little Yaseen.</em></strong>
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div class="youtube-replace"><br />
</div>
<div class="youtube-replace"><br />
</div>
<div class="youtube-replace"><br />
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div><br />
</div><img alt="" media_type="3" src="https://d2g8igdw686xgo.cloudfront.net/95545673_1760380946394300_r.jpeg" width="100%" />
<div><br />
</div>

Save Zeina’s Family and Little Yaseen

Still €4,994 to go. Help us build momentum.