As Omri Miran marked his 48th birthday on Friday, his wife Lishay sat quietly in Hostages Square, Tel Aviv, sending yet another message into the silence. For the past 18 months, she’s been writing to her husband—held hostage since October 7, 2023—via a private WhatsApp chat she’s titled Notes to Omri.

Abducted by Hamas militants during the brutal raid on Kibbutz Nahal Oz, Omri hasn’t seen his two daughters, Roni and her younger sister, since they were toddlers. His wife’s phone remains filled with unread messages—photos of the children, her thoughts at midnight, moments from their life that continues in his absence.

Each message is a symbol of endurance and hope. “My love,” she wrote last fall, “there are so many people you’ll need to meet when you come back. Amazing people who are helping me. Strangers who’ve become family.”

Omri’s father, Danny, marked his son’s birthday in Hostages Square, updating the posters—crossing out the ages 46 and 47, replacing them with 48. Nearby, activists prepared for a symbolic Passover Seder, with seats set for each of the 59 hostages still believed to be in Gaza. Only 24 of them are confirmed to be alive.

Among the displays in the square was a model of a Gaza tunnel and installations dedicated to the Nova music festival attack—part of a broader movement to keep the plight of the hostages in the public spotlight.

Although the family hasn’t returned to their home in Nahal Oz, just 700 meters from the Gaza border, Lishay makes occasional visits. “It’s the closest I can get to Omri,” she says. “I speak to him there. I feel him.”

A temporary ceasefire earlier this year sparked hope, but it ended after two months. The sounds of war have since returned to what Israelis call the “Gaza pocket,” intensifying fears for the hostages’ lives.

Despite everything, Lishay remains steadfast in her belief that Omri is alive. Released captives reported seeing him in July 2024. But with no blue ticks appearing beside her messages, she waits.

“I don’t feel free,” she says, reflecting on Passover, the Jewish holiday of liberation. “No one in Israel feels free—not while they’re still over there.”

Her words echo across the square, a quiet but powerful reminder that while time passes, some stories remain painfully frozen.