No family chooses the war that arrives at their door.

The headlines end at the ceasefire. The reality begins after it: a family sleeping in a stairwell, a girl who has not sat an exam in four years, a grandmother who stayed because a pension pays rent nowhere else.

Nine in ten people killed by explosive weapons in populated areas are civilians. The rest of the harm never gets counted — the destroyed water pipe, the lost birth certificate, the clinic with no fuel for the generator.

Shelter Line exists for that second, longer emergency.