CAIRO, March 9 (Xinhua) -- For 35-year-old Turkish sports coach Cem Demirok, the numbers on the scale have lost their significance. These days, it's the explosive weight of the missiles Israel and Iran keep unveiling that occupy his thoughts.
The deadly clash between the United States, Israel, and Iran, which erupted at the end of last month, has yet to reach Turkish soil, but for a nation that shares a long border with Iran, the footsteps of war draw ever nearer.
On Monday, Türkiye's Defense Ministry reported that a missile launched from Iran was successfully intercepted over the southeastern province of Gaziantep, the second such interception in less than a week.
Even though the government says the missile was successfully intercepted and keeps assuring the nation it will steer clear of the regional conflict, public worry and fear continue to mount by the day.
"Of course we're scared," Demirok said, his face etched with worry. "As a Turkish citizen, as a father, how could I not be afraid in a situation like this?"
Demirok's fears and concerns are widely shared among the Turkish public. They worry not only about the flames of war reaching their own homes but also about how the conflict next door may ripple through their daily lives.
"War is not just about bombs falling on your head. It has far-reaching consequences," Demirok said, pointing to the rise in the cost of everyday goods in Türkiye since the outbreak of the regional conflict, a reminder of how fear and uncertainty can seep into a society long before any missile lands.
Amid the region's growing turmoil, anxiety about war leaps across national lines, touching lives far and wide.
On the road from southern Lebanon to the Syrian border, a long line of people stretched back toward Syria, many of them refugees who had fled the fighting during Syria's civil conflict and had only recently found temporary refuge in Lebanon.
On March 2, fighting flared again between Israel and Hezbollah, plunging southern Lebanon back into chaos. Residents of the region, already uprooted multiple times, were once more forced onto uncertain paths.
"I spent 25 hours on the road. It's frightening and humiliating. We had no choice but to escape," said Mustafa Issa, a Syrian in his 30s from Lebanon's southern province of Quneitra, speaking to Xinhua.
Lebanese Social Affairs Minister Haneen Sayed said on Sunday that a total of about 517,000 displaced people have been registered on Lebanon's government relief platform as Israeli attacks continue across the country.
Even in areas untouched by the war, a quiet unease threads through people's daily rhythms.
In a small village tucked into the mountains of southern Lebanon, Ali Qais paused between rows of winter crops, wiping the mud from his hands. His phone vibrated again, another call from relatives abroad, checking that he was safe.
"We plant and hope the war does not return to this land," Qais told Xinhua, his eyes flicking toward the distant frontier. "But things don't seem to go as we wish."
In the news, Israel's attacks are reported not far from Qais's village, and every so often he can hear the distant rumble of explosions. Yet he says he has no plans to leave.
"This is my home. Where else could I go?" Qais asked. "No one knows what tomorrow will bring, or where we could run if it comes."
