The devout Orthodox woman hasn't left her apartment in Jerusalem throughout the missile fire, scrupulously respecting the restrictions imposed by the Israeli government.

Traveling the 70 kilometers to Tel Aviv, she sits with her adult son Yair on a bench to watch the waves after the announcement of a ceasefire between Israel and Iran after 12 days of exchanging strikes. 

"We're very happy tonight. We succeeded, we destroyed the Iranian nuclear threat with the help of (US President) Donald Trump," said Yair, a restaurant chef at the coastal city, renowned for its partying, fashion and music. 

"Life can go on."

On Wednesday, schools, offices and transport will reopen after the lifting of restrictions.

"I'm not religious but I pray that I won't hear any more sirens, that I won't have to run and hide in a shelter," says Yafit Sofi, 33, between sips of beer.

"We want to party, we want to live, to regain our carefree attitude... But how long will this last? What will the next war be?" the young woman asks. 

"So many people want to kill us, so many countries want to destroy Israel. And each time, it's worse."

Israel launched its campaign in a bid to prevent Tehran from acquiring a nuclear weapon, an ambition Tehran has consistently denied.

The Israeli action killed at least 610 civilians and wounded more than 4,700, according to the Iranian health ministry.

Iran's attacks on Israel have killed 28 people, according to official figures and rescuers.

Many of the young people interviewed by AFP said they remain traumatized by the October 7 attacks by Hamas militants which killed 1,219 people.

Israel's retaliatory military campaign spawned into fighting on several fronts. 

Unlike rockets from Hamas or Hezbollah, its Lebanese ally, Iranian ballistic missiles have proven more difficult for Israel's ultra-sophisticated air defense system to intercept. 

And the metropolis of Tel Aviv, which had previously been relatively unaffected, has been hit several times in recent days.

"At first we felt like it was a game, it all seemed unreal. We were at the beach and suddenly we were running into shelters to hide," says Dorothea Schupelius, 29, while strolling along a palm-lined ledge at sunset. 

"And then no, it wasn't a game: real people died," she says. "Everyone suffered."

No one mentions the famine raging across the border in Gaza.

Israel's campaign has killed at least 56,077 people, mostly civilians, according to the Gaza health ministry. The United Nations considers its figures reliable.

The territory of more than two million people is suffering from famine-like conditions after Israel blocked all supplies from early March to the end of May and continues to impose restrictions, according to rights groups.

Fashion designer Noa Karlovsky has a pile of wedding dresses sewn for her clients in her loft in Jaffa, south of Tel Aviv.

"Many of our men are in Gaza, and with the war in Iran, even more weddings have been cancelled," she says sadly. 

"We can't plan anything, we don't really control our lives anymore. Our leaders are at war, but we're just pawns. I'd like to start a family, but I wonder if it's a good idea," adds the thirty-year-old. 

Omet Btami and Eyal Chen, both 25, say they trust the government.

"Anyway, we're not going to wait our whole lives for peace to return for good. Tomorrow, you'll see, everyone will be celebrating," says Noa.

"Here, resilience isn't just a word."