For days, Erfan Soltani’s family moved through time as if it were breaking apart, each hour a question no one would answer. The news that his charges had been revised did not feel like rescue; it felt like being pulled back from a cliff only to be left standing at the edge. They still do not know what has been done to him, what is being planned, or how much of what they hear is real. Instead, they cling to fragments—brief messages, guarded words, and the small, stubborn rituals of waiting.
His story now stretches far beyond the prison walls, echoing through streets filled with protests and fear. He did not choose to be a symbol, yet his name has become a quiet rallying cry against a system that thrives on uncertainty. International appeals and public scrutiny may have slowed the machinery once, but his family has learned to live in the space where hope and dread never fully let go.
