This war between the United States and Iran, which ended with this bizarre agreement, has sparked different associations for different people. One person told me it reminded him of a Rottweiler and an American Staffordshire Terrier barking at each other in a dog park, terrifying the entire neighborhood, until the Rottweiler suddenly remembers he only came out for a quick bathroom break and wants to get back home. Another compared it to a road-rage confrontation between a hot-headed thug and a bully with an ego the size of Texas who never dares get out of his car. For me, this embarrassing parade of threats evoked a completely different image: a couple going through the ugliest breakup imaginable.
It begins when one partner, suddenly feeling like a lion in his own home, decides the other partner is no longer behaving to his liking. He has a list of demands as long as exile itself, and one day he marches into the living room and dramatically announces that unless the other side behaves exactly as he wants, he wants a divorce. He is convinced the other party will tremble with fear.
1 View gallery
It begins when one partner, suddenly feeling like a lion in his own home
(Photo: Shuuterstock)
But to his surprise, the partner across from him shows unexpected resilience. Not only is he not intimidated, he launches into a counterattack of shouting, insults, flying vases, and threats of his own. He, too, wants a divorce, he says—and if anything, it is the first partner who must change and compensate him.
And so begins a war of attrition: explosions, heavy barrages of accusations, and bombardments that shake the house. At some point, however, the lion’s roar from the first partner begins to sound far less convincing. He becomes rattled by the other side and starts backing down. Then groveling. He is no longer demanding what he originally wanted; now he just wants peace and quiet.
The partner opposite him, sensing the smell of fear, keeps imposing more and more draconian conditions.
And worst of all? All of this crossfire, all these ego games, are taking place over the head of their daughter.
While they fight and wrestle with each other, the little girl lives in constant anxiety. Her stomach is in knots. She is stressed, and every night she goes to sleep not knowing what reality she will wake up to the next morning. While the adults are consumed with winning, she is focused solely on surviving.
Then, suddenly, the struggle ends with a meek divorce settlement. The first partner abandons most of his demands, signs the agreement, leaves, and walks away. And the girl discovers what many children of bitterly divided parents eventually learn: that when the moment of truth arrives, the adult who promised to protect you can simply stand up, sign an agreement that suits him, and disappear.
And she? She is left behind with emotional scars, crippling anxiety, and a deep sense of insecurity.
Yet even in this bleak ending, she must remind herself of one thing: she may be small, but she is a sovereign entity. She has not only the right, but the responsibility, to do what is best for herself. Above all, she must hold on to hope. She must believe that even if she is wounded and frightened today, with time she will grow stronger and learn to protect herself—without fantasizing that a wealthy uncle from America will come and save her.
And if we step away from the metaphor for a moment and return to Iran War No. 1, No. 2, No. 3, this story mainly made me think about the fact that while there are great wars over which we have no control, there are also small, domestic wars where the control lies entirely in our own hands—wars that can, and should, be prevented.
So if you are out there in the midst of a divorce process, or thinking about getting divorced, please: do it with dignity. Give up the ego. Give up the humiliating displays of power. Because in these kinds of wars, there are never any winners. There are mostly scarred children, forced to live for years among the ruins.
First published: 18:46, 06.19.26