KYIV—For nearly two weeks after Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump met in Alaska to discuss an end to the war in Ukraine, the skies over Kyiv stayed relatively calm. That changed one week ago, on the night of August 28, when Russian forces launched the deadliest attack on Kyiv since July. At least 23 people were killed, including three children ages 2, 14, and 17.
Mykola and Nataliia are pensioners who live in the Olimpisky neighborhood, which has not been regularly targeted by shelling. But when Russia ramped up hostilities in the spring—attacks surged 41.8 percent from May to June—they made a habit of taking refuge in the underground parking garage beneath their building whenever missiles threatened Kyiv.
That decision served them well on the night of August 28. Russia’s barrage of 598 drones, 11 ballistic missiles, and 20 cruise missiles struck diplomatic buildings and took out an apartment block in Darnytskyi, where most of the casualties occurred. And Mykola and Nataliia’s building was hit by a cruise missile.
“If we had not hidden, we would certainly be dead,” Nataliia said. “And if that ballistic missile had struck our apartment directly, we would be gone as well.”
Some of their fellow residents across town were not as fortunate and lost their lives. Others, like Elena Iltchenko, survived against the odds.
A 48-year-old entrepreneur, Iltchenko admits she never goes to the shelters. “I own a café. I would like to be able to go, but I need to sleep. I come home late at night and wake up early in the morning. I have to be able to rest.”
Instead of going to a shelter, she set up a makeshift bed in her hallway, following the “two-wall rule,” a safety principle advising that at least two walls should separate a person from the outside in case of an explosion. She woke up that night under the rubble of her own apartment, after a missile struck right above her.
“I did not even hear the explosion. I woke up under the rubble, and I was calm. I had my phone with me, so I could call the rescue teams, who arrived very quickly. I only have a few scratches and some back pain, but that is about it. It really is a miracle.”
Now, Ukrainians like Mykola, Nataliia, and Elena will have to rebuild or move, all amid a conflict with no end in sight. As they grapple with the emotions of losing their homes and belongings, and grow weary of the constant threats above, they are both angry with Putin and distrustful of Trump.
For Elena, a widow since 2021, her apartment was the sum of her life savings. Now it is gone. She is currently staying with a friend and holds on to a glimmer of optimism. “I have the mindset of an entrepreneur. So I know I will be able to rebuild everything,” she says.
Mykola and Nataliia are more doubtful about the future as they stand in the wreckage of their apartment, glass shards crunching underfoot.
“We have been living here for 40 years. We have nowhere else to go. And with what money could we buy another apartment? The Ukrainian government will only give us crumbs,” Mykola says bitterly.
In the event of the destruction of one’s home, the Ukrainian government offers compensation with a maximum payout of 350,000 hryvnias, about $8,500 to $9,000. But that sum covers only a fraction of the cost of an apartment. On average, a 430-square-foot apartment costs around 2,000,000 hryvnias, or roughly $50,000.
Others are moving before something else terrible happens. Ukrainian journalist Stanislav Storozhenko was fortunate enough to reach a shelter after the first missile struck that night. Just minutes later, a Shahed drone crashed into his courtyard. For the young man, it was the final straw.
“I told my landlord I would be moving out at the end of the month,” he said with regret. He does not trust Putin or the peace process.
In his view, Russia had been holding back in an effort to ease tensions with Trump ahead of their planned meeting in Alaska. “During that time,” Stanislav recalled, “no one was going to the shelters anymore. The last time I went, it was completely empty.”
But few truly believed the era of massive bombardments was over in Ukraine as a whole and especially in the capital. “No one here has faith in these negotiations,” he said. “People say the United States does not really stand up to Putin, and so he feels he has nothing to fear. And Trump, he has just been wiped out in front of Putin.”
Mykola shared similar sentiments as he salvaged what little remained of his apartment.
“Everyone is terrified of Putin,” he said. “A paralyzing fear. So no one will do anything. They will just talk, and nothing will change. And then what? Trump will throw us another two-week deadline. It does not matter to us anymore. Nothing will come from these talks. No, we do not count on Trump. Not at all. He is just a smooth talker. He will carry on the war until the last Russian, and until the last Ukrainian, [dies]. He is destroying both our countries methodically,” Mykola concluded.
Neither Elena nor Mykola and his wife hope for a quick peace after nearly four years of war and negotiations that seemed more like diplomatic posturing than a genuine effort. Elena prefers not to think about it. “There’s nothing we can do except try to survive day by day. Peace feels so far away that we’d rather not think about it.”
Yet according to a recent Gallup poll, nearly 70 percent of Ukrainians support peace as soon as possible. In that light, the White House’s efforts to end the war have been relatively well received by the Ukrainian public. “As long as it doesn’t come at the expense of Ukraine and pave the way for a new war in the years ahead,” Elena adds.
Amid the growing intensity of Russian attacks on the capital, a new kind of life has taken hold, marked by endless nights and constant stress. And yet, in a half voice, Mykola dares to hope the attacks might ease. “If Trump sees more attacks against Ukraine, maybe he’ll threaten Russia by pledging more support for Ukraine, and that could calm Putin. I don’t know … at least maybe he would provide us with more air defense missiles.”
Still, Stanislav had hoped for at least a couple of quiet months while the world waited for a clearer answer about a potential meeting between Putin and Zelensky. “My impression,” he said grimly, “is that Putin has just played Trump once again.”
