The war in Ukraine is often marked by specific dates, like February 24, 2022 – the day of the full-scale invasion. But for many Ukrainians, that February never really ended. For me, then a 22-year-old master’s student in construction engineering, that day shattered everything I understood about my future. I was glued to my phone, refreshing news updates in a frantic attempt to make sense of the chaos.
The distant echoes of explosions rumbled through the city, shaking windows and setting off endless car alarms. Air raid sirens wailed, their sound slicing through the early morning stillness. Outside, people hurried past with suitcases, their faces pale and tense, while others lined up at pharmacies and ATMs, their hands trembling as they stocked up on essentials.
My family and friends sent frantic messages (Are you safe? Are you leaving? What do we do?) but no one had an answer. Fear settled in like a second skin, thick and suffocating. The streets, once familiar, now felt unrecognisable, transformed by the weight of uncertainty.
