KYIV, Ukraine — “Mother, do not scold me, do not scold me, I do not even know where I will die.”
The sorrowful refrain of a Ukrainian funeral song drifts from the speakers of a battered old pickup truck, filling the air with a heavy sense of mourning.
Along Kyiv’s long Khreshchatyk Avenue, time appears to stand still. Throats tighten, tears fall. One by one, passersby kneel as the funeral procession moves past. The lament continues.
“Oh, strangers will bury me, little mother, will you not grieve?”
Some make the sign of the cross. A woman sobs uncontrollably. A megaphone crackles: “Kyiv welcomes its heroes.”
For the past two weeks, a deep sense of unease has gripped Ukraine. Faces are drawn, eyes filled with worry. Ukrainians have watched in shock as their American ally wavered and as Donald Trump launched a series of attacks—first on social media, then from the Oval Office, culminating in the suspension of U.S. aid and intelligence sharing.
Sitting in a café in central Kyiv, Sofiia, a resident of Odesa, tells The Moscow Times that she feels worse now than she did in the weeks before Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022.
She describes a sense of “complete uncertainty and confusion” and, after three years of war, “a complete lack of hope.”
Following extended discussions with U.S. counterparts in Saudi Arabia on Tuesday, a Ukrainian delegation announced they were prepared for a 30-day ceasefire “on land, in the skies, and at sea.”
U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, pleased with the progress toward “a forthcoming peace,” declared that “the ball is now in Russia’s court” and announced that Washington would restore previously authorized military aid and intelligence sharing.
On Thursday, President Vladimir Putin stated that he would “support” the proposed ceasefire but insisted that it must bring “lasting peace,” adding that further discussions with the U.S. were needed before a final decision.
No More Hope
“I feel like I’m living in cognitive dissonance,” says Nina, 31, her large blue eyes welling with tears. She has come to attend the funeral of a friend killed on the front lines just days ago.
“I don’t really know what to think about everything that’s happening,” she says. “I’m just proud of our president, Zelensky. I think he managed to maneuver well with the Americans and, despite the dispute in the Oval Office, remained dignified and acted in Ukraine’s best interests.”
A deep sense of confusion seems to have settled over Ukraine. Faced with an increasingly erratic U.S. foreign policy, Ukrainians no longer know what to believe.
“I wouldn’t say that the U.S. has betrayed us,” says Vlad Ivanchuk, in his 40s. “But one thing is certain: we will never fully trust the Americans again. Our future is in Europe, and I know that Europe will never abandon us.”
Nina fears these negotiations will leave them in a state of limbo and unpredictability.
“We are anxious, and it is almost impossible to plan ahead. But we continue to trust the Ukrainian forces, and we know we are not alone—Europe continues to support us. We believe in a shared future because, more than anyone, we uphold the values Europe stands for. And we pay for it with our blood,” she says.
The suspension of U.S. military aid and intelligence sharing with Kyiv following the Feb. 28 Oval Office clash between Trump and Zelensky has made this unpredictability all the more tangible.
“I feel the consequences personally—there has been an increase in shelling and enemy assaults,” one Ukrainian soldier tells The Moscow Times on condition of anonymity.
“If Europe can’t compensate for this gap, the results will be disastrous. In short, they’ll flush us down the drain,” he says.
Yet confidence in Ukraine’s allies remains fragile. Many doubt that the West will take the necessary steps to guarantee Ukraine’s security—or that of Europe as a whole.
“It feels like we have been betrayed,” laments Tatiana, a resident of Kherson in southern Ukraine. “Western partners are asleep and cannot wake up. They are incapable of looking a few steps ahead to realize that soon, this war will reach them too. For now, they are just watching Ukraine being killed like it’s some kind of reality show.”
Hours before Putin declared his willingness to consider a ceasefire, Moscow launched yet another wave of airstrikes against Ukraine and continued its offensive in the Kursk region, where Ukrainian forces—after days of fierce resistance—appear on the verge of retreat.
How to Negotiate?
Many Ukrainians believe the proposed ceasefire is unlikely to bring lasting peace.
“Even if the war stops for a while, it will start again at some point,” says Kristina, 25. Originally from Mykolaiv, she is raising her son, Ilya, alone.
“My husband has been serving in the army since 2022. He and his comrades don’t even talk about a possible ceasefire. They don’t believe in it. And they know that nothing will change. Even if there’s a ceasefire, they will not leave the front,” she says.
Katrin, who lived under Russian occupation in Kherson in 2022, expresses frustration with Western leaders’ insistence on negotiations. She argues they fail to grasp the true nature of their adversary.
“Only those who lived under occupation and constant attacks truly know who Russians are,” says Katrin. “Even people from Kyiv don’t know what war is, let alone the West. [The Russians] came in, they destroyed books in Ukrainian, they literally tortured civilians… they’re cruel and soulless. Yet I do understand why people in the West—who only know a very comfortable life—can’t imagine such cruelty exists.”
Lisa Yasko, a member of parliament from Zelensky’s Servant of the People party, shares the widespread skepticism among Ukrainians toward a ceasefire.
“We’ve had more than 10 years of war. We know that the Russians have a habit of not respecting ceasefires,” she says.
“When the ground on the front line gets dry [late March to early April], Russians will go on a massive offensive,” another MP says on condition of anonymity.
Some fear that a pause in hostilities and U.S. rapprochement with Moscow could allow the Russians time to regroup and prepare for an even larger assault.
“Just like in 1936, when they feared Hitler and gave him everything he wanted, only to end up with a war anyway—and then they wondered, ‘How did this happen?’” the anonymous soldier says. “You can’t negotiate with a tiger when your head is in its mouth.”
But Yasko insists that agreeing to the ceasefire was a necessary step—both to ease tensions with Washington and to expose Russia’s unwillingness to negotiate in good faith.
“Zelensky is a very skilled negotiator and has a talent for understanding people. But emotions in the Oval Office are not productive,” Yasko says. “That’s why I think it’s very good that he was absent from these negotiations in Jeddah. At this stage, it is beneficial that discussions are not happening directly between Donald Trump and Zelensky, but between the two delegations.”
Yet Yasko does not believe in a swift resolution.
Neither does Kristina. But above all, she refuses any further territorial concessions to Russia.
“I don’t want my city [Mykolaiv] to end up under Russian occupation just because Trump and Putin decided so,” she says.
A November 2024 Gallup poll found that just over half of Ukrainians are open to territorial concessions, while 38% oppose them.
“But you saw what happened. Trump negotiates, and that same evening, the Russians attack us harder than ever,” Kristina says.
Despite the pessimism, resilience remains.
“No matter what people say, in the army, people are still ready to destroy the enemy—it’s just all running on enthusiasm now,” the anonymous soldier explains.
“We are living in a time of change. I would prefer to be living in another era, but unfortunately, I am living in this one,” the anonymous MP says.
Like MP Yasko, Kristina wants to believe in the possibility of peace.
“Maybe there will be a ceasefire. But the Russians will use that time to rearm and attack us again,” she says.
“But we are ready to try,” insists Yasko. “At the very least, we have to try.”
