The traffic is back. The metro is packed again. Cafés are full in northern Tehran, while shopkeepers across the capital have returned to work as if life has settled back into its familiar rhythm. On the surface, little suggests Iran has once again found itself at war.

But beneath the bustle, the mood is anything but normal.

After living through more than a month of conflict earlier this year, many Tehran residents say they have simply run out of emotional energy. The fear that accompanied the first explosions has largely given way to something quieter, a determination to carry on with daily life while hoping the fighting does not once again reach the capital.

Most people speak less about military developments than they do about inflation, falling purchasing power and the cost of rebuilding. For many, survival has become less about missiles than about making ends meet.

"The war has already taken enough from ordinary people," said Hossein, 33, who said relatives in southern Iran have endured repeated attacks. "People calling for more fighting don't have to live through what families there are going through."

In many respects, Tehran appears to have returned to business as usual. Metro services are operating normally and the city's notorious traffic has returned. Temporary security checkpoints that appeared along several major highways during the earlier stages of the conflict have largely disappeared.

Restaurants, cafés and shopping centres are open, particularly in wealthier districts where evenings remain lively despite the uncertainty hanging over the country.

Yet conversations almost inevitably drift back to the economy.

Business owners worry about higher costs. Families worry about savings. Employees wonder whether prices will rise yet again. Even those trying to avoid politics acknowledge that another prolonged conflict would place further pressure on an economy already struggling under sanctions and years of instability.

Many residents also express concern for communities in southern Iran, where military strikes have been reported more frequently. While Tehran has so far avoided the worst of the latest escalation, people follow developments closely, aware that businesses, homes and infrastructure elsewhere have suffered significant damage.

"The capital feels different from the south," one office worker said. "People here are trying to get on with life because they have no other choice."

The recent funeral ceremonies in Tehran offered another glimpse into the complexity of public sentiment.

Authorities made extensive logistical preparations around the ceremony site, widening access routes and adjusting traffic arrangements to accommodate those attending. The scale of attendance quickly became the subject of competing narratives.

Government supporters described the turnout as evidence of broad public support, while some other residents questioned those characterisations or argued that people attended for a range of reasons beyond politics.

Fatemeh, who attended part of the ceremonies, said the crowds she saw were "very large", but cautioned against assuming everyone present shared the same motivation.

"In Iran, funerals carry religious and cultural significance," she said. "People come for different reasons. You can't assume everyone thinks the same."

That view was echoed by several residents interviewed by bne IntelliNews, who said public gatherings in Iran often show a mixture of religious tradition, curiosity, personal respect for the deceased, civic obligation and political conviction, making simple conclusions difficult.

Others were more sceptical.

Ali, a Tehran resident, said he believed previous state funerals for Qassem Soleimani had attracted larger spontaneous crowds, and argued that attendance figures had become part of a wider political debate rather than an objective measure of public opinion.

Whatever interpretation people favour, most conversations in Tehran eventually return to the same concern: what happens next.

Few residents express enthusiasm for another round of fighting. Even among those who support the government's position, many say they fear the economic consequences of a prolonged conflict.

Maryam, an accountant, said the uncertainty has become exhausting.

"We've already lived through weeks of this once," she said. "Now people are just trying to keep working, look after their families and hope it doesn't get worse."

That may best capture Tehran's current mood.

The cafés remain busy. The traffic jams have returned. Children play in parks and commuters complain about congestion as they always have.

Yet beneath the familiar routine lies a city that has learned how quickly normal life can disappear.

For now, Tehran is carrying on. But few people seem convinced that normality is guaranteed, and many quietly hope the next headlines will be about diplomacy rather than another night of air raid warnings.