How the Ceasefire Happened, and Why It Hasn’t Ended the War

At 6:13 PM Eastern Time on April 7, 2026, Donald Trump posted on Truth Social that the United States would suspend bombing Iran for two weeks. At that moment, the strike packages were loaded. Targets had been assigned. B-52s were in holding patterns. The most destructive night of the war was 107 minutes from execution.

Fifteen minutes after the post, US forces received the stand-down order.

How that order came to exist begins not in Washington or Tehran but in Rawalpindi, where Pakistan’s army chief, Field Marshal Asim Munir, spent the final night of the crisis on the phone with three men: US Vice President JD Vance (calling from Budapest), Special Envoy Steve Witkoff, and Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi. One man, two encrypted lines, three capital cities, and a ticking clock.

That night produced a two-week pause. Today, June 1, is Day 94 of the war and Day 55 of the ceasefire. The pause never expired. It was extended, then made indefinite, and it has held in the sense that the strike packages have not flown again. It has also been violated almost monthly, survived the collapse of the highest-level US-Iran talks since 1979, absorbed a US naval blockade, and now rests on a 60-day deal that neither government has signed. Hormuz is still not fully open.

This is how the ceasefire came together, and why two months later the war is paused rather than over.

The Mediator Nobody Expected

Pakistan was not the obvious choice. When Operation Epic Fury began on February 28, Washington’s initial diplomatic channels ran through Oman, Turkey, and Egypt, each with established credibility as Gulf mediators. Pakistan was a peripheral player: an energy-starved South Asian state scrambling to keep its lights on as Hormuz closed.

Three things changed that calculation.

First, Pakistan’s navy acted while diplomats talked. On March 9, nine days into the crisis, the Pakistan Navy launched Operation Muhafiz-ul-Bahr (“Guardian of the Sea”), deploying eight warships to escort merchant vessels through contested waters. It was the first non-Western independent escort operation of the crisis, and it earned Islamabad credibility with both sides. Iran saw a Muslim-majority military acting to protect commerce, not enforce American will. Washington saw a partner willing to put ships in the water.

Second, Asim Munir had something no other mediator possessed: functional relationships with both the American and Iranian security establishments simultaneously. The army chief had spoken directly with Trump by late March. He was also in contact with the IRGC’s surviving command structure through channels built over decades of managing the Balochistan border and the Chabahar corridor. When Iran needed a messenger it could trust not to be an American proxy, Munir was the answer.

Third, Pakistan was desperate. With 50% of its oil imports transiting Hormuz, petrol prices had surged 20%, schools were closed, the government had moved to a four-day workweek, and Pakistan Day celebrations were cancelled. Islamabad was not mediating from comfort. It was mediating from survival. That gave Sharif and Munir a sincerity no other broker could match.

Building the Channel: March 23 to April 6

Week 1: The Offer (Mar 23-24)

Pakistan’s diplomatic timeline begins on March 23, when its Foreign Office offered Islamabad as a venue for direct US-Iran talks. The same day, Trump postponed his first power-plant deadline by five days, citing “productive conversations.” Whether Pakistan precipitated the postponement or merely coincided with it remains disputed.

On March 24, PM Sharif posted publicly that Pakistan “stands ready and honoured to host meaningful and conclusive talks.” That evening, Army Chief Munir held his first confirmed call with Trump. An Israeli official told NPR that “planning underway for talks in Pakistan later this week.” Trump reposted Sharif’s statement on Truth Social.

Hours later, Iran cracked. A senior Iranian FM official told CBS: “We received points from the U.S. through mediators and they are being reviewed.” It was the first admission that Tehran was engaging at all.

Week 2: The Plan (Mar 25-28)

Washington sent Iran a 15-point peace plan via Pakistani intermediaries on March 25. The plan was maximalist: one-month ceasefire, surrender of 450 kg of 60%-enriched uranium, enhanced inspections, missile range limits, proxy reductions. Iran rejected it within 48 hours and issued a five-point counteroffer demanding reparations, a permanent end to war, and international recognition of Iranian sovereignty over the Strait of Hormuz.

Pakistan FM Ishaq Dar publicly confirmed “indirect talks” on March 26. By March 27, Trump extended the energy-strike deadline to April 6, at what he claimed was Iran’s request. The Pakistani channel was the only plausible mechanism for that request to reach Washington.

On March 28, Dar announced a concrete deliverable: Iran had agreed to transit 20 Pakistani-flagged vessels through Hormuz, two ships per day. It was a small number, but it proved Iran would negotiate passage with a country it trusted, and that Pakistan could deliver on commitments.

Week 3: The Quartet (Mar 29-Apr 2)

Pakistan, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt sent their foreign ministers to Islamabad on March 29 for two days of consultations. Originally planned for Ankara, the meeting relocated to Pakistan’s capital, a symbolic acknowledgment of Islamabad’s central role.

No Americans or Iranians were present. This was alignment, not negotiation. The goal was a framework that bridged the gap between Washington’s 15 points and Tehran’s five conditions. Turkey’s FM Fidan and Egypt’s delegation focused on sequencing: what had to happen first, second, third for both sides to claim a win.

Pakistan’s Dar played host and chair. The outcome was not a public communique but a shared understanding of what a viable ceasefire framework would require: an immediate halt to strikes, Hormuz reopening within days, and a structured timeline for broader negotiations. The quartet carried these elements to both capitals through their respective channels.

Meanwhile, Pakistan kept building bilateral bridges. On March 31, Pakistan and China jointly announced a five-point proposal calling for ceasefire and Hormuz reopening. China’s involvement expanded the mediating coalition and signaled to Tehran that its closest major-power partner endorsed the diplomatic path.

By April 2, Dar told reporters Pakistan would “continue with Iran-US mediation despite obstacles.” Public acknowledgment of difficulty; private signal that the line stayed open.

Week 4: The Framework (Apr 3-6)

What would become the “Islamabad Accord” took shape over the first week of April. Pakistan crafted a two-phase proposal: Phase 1 was a 45-day ceasefire with Hormuz reopening; Phase 2 was the negotiation of a permanent settlement.

On April 5, Oman added another thread. Deputy foreign ministers from Iran and Oman met with specialists to discuss “smooth flow of passage through the Strait of Hormuz,” drafting a bilateral transit protocol. Oman is the other littoral state at the Hormuz narrows; its participation gave any transit framework geographic legitimacy that Pakistan alone could not provide.

On April 6, the 45-day ceasefire proposal was formally submitted to both Washington and Tehran. Iran rejected it within hours. Tasnim news agency quoted officials: “A 45-day temporary ceasefire proposed under the shadow of war does not align with Iran’s policy.” Tehran wanted a permanent deal, not a temporary pause.

Trump extended his deadline one more time, to 8 PM ET on April 7, with the most explicit threat yet: “Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day, all wrapped up in one.”

The Final Night: April 6-7

Iran’s rejection of the 45-day plan cleared the table for what both sides actually wanted to discuss.

On the night of April 6, Iran sent its 10-point counteroffer to Washington via Pakistan. The points included: a permanent end to war, US force withdrawal from regional bases, sanctions lifting, release of frozen Iranian assets, war reparations, and a formal Hormuz safe passage protocol. A US official who read it called it “maximalist.” Trump said it was “significant” but “not good enough.”

And then the final night began.

Asim Munir took his position at the center of a three-way call structure that would last through the night and into Tuesday afternoon. On one line: VP Vance in Budapest and Witkoff in Washington. On the other: Araghchi in Tehran. Egyptian and Turkish foreign ministers worked the margins, trying to help bridge gaps. Pakistani mediators shuttled amended drafts between the parties.

Vance was the primary American interlocutor for this phase, working through Pakistani counterparts rather than direct with Iran. The format was deliberate: it preserved both sides’ public positions. Iran was not “negotiating with America.” Pakistan was “passing messages.”

Framing was the critical question. Iran would not accept a “temporary ceasefire” because it implied the war could resume at will. The US would not agree to a “permanent end” because it implied conceding all leverage. The solution was a two-week pause described differently by each side. Trump would call it a pause while Iran opens Hormuz. Iran would call it a halt to aggression while it coordinates safe passage. Same outcome, different narratives.

By Monday evening Washington time, Munir had US approval for an updated two-week proposal. The question was whether Tehran’s fractured leadership could produce a yes.

Ali Khamenei had been killed in the February 28 strikes that opened the war, and no successor had been cleanly installed. His son Mojtaba was the figure Western reporting most often named, and sources told Axios that he was “actively involved in the process on Monday and Tuesday.” But the Assembly of Experts never ratified a successor, and authority in this period was effectively shared between whatever remained of the clerical establishment and an IRGC command that had taken the brunt of the war. Whoever made the final call faced a fractured state: the Guard wanted retaliation, the 10-point counteroffer was already on the table, and the choice was two weeks of pause against one night of power-grid destruction. Iran chose the pause. Who exactly chose it is a question the regime has never answered, and the contested succession would haunt every negotiation that followed.

Munir made the final call to close the deal. Trump posted at 6:13 PM. The stand-down came at 6:28 PM. Strike packages that would have destroyed Iran’s electrical grid, its remaining bridges, and what was left of its civilian infrastructure were aborted in flight.

The Terms: Two Versions of One Deal

Deliberate ambiguity defines the agreement.

Trump’s version (Truth Social):

“Subject to the Islamic Republic of Iran agreeing to the COMPLETE, IMMEDIATE, and SAFE OPENING of the Strait of Hormuz, I agree to suspend the bombing and attack of Iran for a period of two weeks.”

Araghchi’s version (X/Twitter):

“If attacks against Iran are halted, our Powerful Armed Forces will cease their defensive operations. For a period of two weeks, safe passage through the Strait of Hormuz will be possible via coordination with Iran’s Armed Forces and with due consideration of technical limitations.”

Trump frames it as Iran capitulating and opening the strait. Araghchi frames it as Iran’s military generously permitting transit under its supervision, with caveats. “Technical limitations” could mean anything: mines, navigational restrictions, vetting procedures, or simply a mechanism to reimpose control if talks collapse.

That gap is intentional. Both sides need domestic narratives. Trump needs “mission accomplished” after 40 days, 15 US KIA, and 520+ wounded. Iran needs “we stopped the aggressor” after 3,597 confirmed dead and a devastated military. Pakistan’s achievement was crafting language elastic enough for both framings to coexist, at least for 14 days.

The Lebanon Fault Line

Within hours, the ceasefire’s structural flaw surfaced. PM Sharif announced that “the US, Iran and their allies have agreed to an immediate ceasefire everywhere, including Lebanon and elsewhere.” Netanyahu’s office responded that the ceasefire “does not include Lebanon” and the IDF would continue ground operations against Hezbollah.

Pakistan had apparently brokered what it understood as a comprehensive agreement. But Israel never agreed to that scope. On Wednesday morning, Hezbollah paused fire; Israel renewed strikes on south Lebanon.

Lebanon is the fault line that could collapse the whole structure. Hezbollah is Iran’s most important proxy. If Israeli operations in Lebanon escalate during the two-week window, Tehran faces pressure to abandon the ceasefire framework. Netanyahu understood this dynamic when he excluded Lebanon, and he may be counting on it.

The Supporting Cast

Pakistan ran the play, but it did not run alone.

Turkey hosted the original mediation channel alongside Egypt. FM Hakan Fidan worked the margins on the final night, helping bridge gaps in the ceasefire language. Turkey’s value was its relationship with Iran as a trading partner and NATO member simultaneously.

Egypt provided the Suez Canal dimension. Any Hormuz settlement affects Egyptian transit revenues, giving Cairo a material stake. Egypt’s FM participated in the Islamabad quartet and the final-night shuttle.

Saudi Arabia joined the Islamabad quartet on March 29, a notable shift for a nation under active Iranian missile attack. Riyadh’s participation signaled to Washington that Gulf states would accept a negotiated framework, not just a military one. The Saudis also gave the US access to King Fahd Air Base earlier in the crisis, a reversal of prior refusal, proving they could work both levers at once.

Oman contributed the Hormuz technical framework. As the only other country at the strait’s narrows, Oman’s bilateral protocol with Iran gave any transit arrangement a veneer of littoral-state legitimacy rather than mere capitulation.

China added heavyweight. Wang Yi conducted 26 calls with counterparts throughout the crisis. Beijing’s Middle East envoy “shuttled across” the conflict region. The March 31 joint Pakistan-China five-point proposal showed Tehran that its most important economic partner endorsed the negotiating track. Sources suggest China provided “a last-minute nudge” that helped secure Iran’s final approval.

What the World Said

Global reaction combined relief with strategic positioning.

UN Secretary-General Guterres called on all parties to “abide by ceasefire terms in order to pave the way toward a lasting and comprehensive peace,” thanking Pakistan and other mediators.

Germany’s Chancellor Merz thanked Pakistan specifically for its mediation, advocating diplomatic channels for “a lasting end to war.”

Ukraine’s FM Sybiha drew the sharpest parallel: “American decisiveness works,” calling for similar action on Russia. The comparison was intentional and uncomfortable for Washington.

Russia’s Zakharova claimed the ceasefire proved that “aggressive, unprovoked attack” strategy suffered “a crushing defeat.” Former President Medvedev warned: “there’ll be no cheap oil.”

Spain’s PM Sanchez was the most skeptical: “Momentary relief must not make us forget the chaos, the destruction and the lives lost.”

India emphasized “unimpeded freedom of navigation” through the Strait, a pointed reminder that New Delhi’s concern was always commerce, not the war itself.

The Talks That Broke Everything: Islamabad, April 11-12

The two-week pause was supposed to buy time for a settlement. What it bought was the most senior US-Iran encounter since the 1979 revolution, and proof that the gap between the two sides was wider than the ceasefire language had disguised.

On April 11, delegations arrived in Islamabad for direct talks. The US sent Vance, Witkoff, and Jared Kushner. Iran sent Araghchi alongside Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf, the parliament speaker and a figure with IRGC standing. Pakistan provided the rooms and the shuttle. For the first time in 47 years, American and Iranian principals of this rank were negotiating in the same building.

They talked for ~21 hours. Then it collapsed.

The structure of the failure is what matters, because it would repeat for the next seven weeks. Washington wanted the nuclear file, missile limits, and proxy reductions on the table; Tehran wanted reparations, a permanent end to strikes, recognition of its Hormuz role, and the lifting of sanctions, in that order, before anything nuclear. Neither side would move first. Iran would not surrender enrichment material while US carriers sat off its coast. The US would not lift pressure while Iran held the strait as a hostage. Kushner reportedly floated a phased economic package; the Iranian delegation read it as the 15-point maximalism of March in new wrapping. By the morning of April 12 the delegations had gone home with no framework, no follow-on date, and a ceasefire that was now eight days from expiry with nothing to extend it into.

The Blockade and the Indefinite Truce: April 13-21

Trump’s answer to the collapse was pressure, not strikes. On April 13, the US imposed a naval blockade of Iranian ports, interdicting tankers loading Iranian crude and condensate. Paired with the existing escort and inspection regime in the strait, traders began calling it the “dual blockade”: the US could choke what came out of Iran’s own terminals while still policing what passed through Hormuz. It was an economic siege that stopped short of the power-grid strikes Trump had threatened, and it gave him a coercive lever that did not require restarting the air war.

It also created a new bargaining chip. On April 17, a separate ceasefire took hold in Lebanon, easing the fault line that had threatened the whole structure within hours of April 7. That same day Araghchi declared the Strait of Hormuz “open to all,” a rhetorical reopening that fell well short of the unrestricted transit Trump had demanded but signaled Tehran wanted the blockade gone.

On April 21, the day the original truce was set to lapse, Trump extended the ceasefire indefinitely. There was no new agreement underneath it. The indefinite ceasefire was a decision to keep not-bombing while the blockade did the work that the bombing was meant to do. The war’s clock stopped counting down to a strike package and started counting up through a siege.

The Fragile Middle: Late April to May

An indefinite ceasefire is not a stable one. Through late April and May the pause held at the strategic level (no resumption of the air campaign) while breaking repeatedly at the tactical level.

The violations ran in both directions. On April 19, US forces seized the tanker Touska in a boarding that Tehran called an act of war. On May 7, an incident off Hormozgan province drew US fire. On May 25, the US struck what it described as an Iranian mine-laying operation near Bandar Abbas, the clearest sign that Iran was still seeding the approaches to the strait it had publicly declared open. In late May, Iran fired ballistic missiles at Kuwait, the first time it had hit a Gulf state directly since the spring, widening the war’s geography even as the ceasefire nominally held.

The US adjusted its posture around the truce rather than abandoning it. Operation Epic Fury, the air campaign that opened the war on February 28, was formally concluded on May 5. Project Freedom, a US Navy escort scheme to convoy commercial traffic through the strait, launched on May 4 and was paused on May 6 after two days, a signal that even Washington was not confident enough in the security situation to keep its own merchant escorts running. Each violation tested whether either capital wanted to convert an incident into a reason to resume the war. Each time, neither did. But each time, the cost of the next incident went up.

For shipping, the practical picture stabilized short of normal. Poolable P&I cover and the blue cards backing it remained non-cancellable and in force throughout, so vessels kept their baseline liability protection. What withdrew was charterers’ additional war-risk cover: extensions for Hormuz transits were pulled or repriced, and war-risk premiums for the run sat in the ~1.5% to 5% range depending on flag, owner, and route. Hulls could sail, but the marginal economics of each transit stayed punishing, which is its own form of closure.

The Deal Nobody Has Signed: May 23-June 1

By late May the war had settled into a paradox: too dangerous to declare over, too costly to restart. Into that gap came the framework that now defines the conflict.

On May 23, Trump said the situation had been “largely negotiated.” On May 28, the contours of a tentative 60-day memorandum of understanding leaked. The structure was the sequencing both sides had failed to agree in Islamabad, finally written down:

• Iran reopens Hormuz to all traffic with no tolls, and clears the mines it has laid within 30 days.
• The US lifts the naval blockade and grants sanctions waivers.
• Iran accepts a set of nuclear commitments, the unresolved file from the strikes on Natanz, Arak, and Ardakan.

It was a 60-day MoU, not a treaty: a trial reopening with monitoring, designed to test compliance before anyone committed to permanence. For ~48 hours it looked done.

Then the pattern that broke Islamabad broke this too. On May 29 and 30, Trump added new demands on top of the leaked terms, and the framework stalled before either government signed it. As of today, June 1, the 60-day MoU is unsigned by both sides. The mines are still in the water. The blockade is still up. Hormuz is open in Araghchi’s rhetoric and closed in the war-risk market.

Where It Stands: Day 94

Two months of mediation have produced a ceasefire that will not end and a deal that will not close. The reasons are structural, and they have not changed since the final night in April.

First, every near-deal has drawn a maximalist re-demand. The 15-point plan, the Islamabad collapse, and the May 29-30 additions are the same move repeated: one side approaches yes, the other raises the price. It is not clear whether this is negotiating tactic, domestic-politics insurance, or genuine disagreement about what the war was for. It has happened often enough to be the default expectation for the next round.

Second, neither side will sequence first. Iran will not clear the mines and reopen the strait while the blockade and sanctions stand; the US will not lift the blockade and waive sanctions while the mines remain and the nuclear file is open. The 60-day MoU exists precisely to solve this with simultaneity and monitoring, which is also why it is so hard to sign: simultaneity requires trust that 94 days of violations have drained.

Third, the mediators are load-bearing and they are tired. Pakistan (Munir and Sharif) and Qatar (the Doha channel) remain the two structures actually carrying messages between Washington and Tehran. Turkey, Egypt, Oman, and China still matter at the margins, but the line that closed the April deal and the line that produced the May MoU both run through Islamabad and Doha. If either tires or is discredited, there is no obvious replacement.

Fourth, Lebanon is still the detonator. The April 17 ceasefire there cooled the fault line, but Hezbollah remains Iran’s most important proxy and any renewed Israeli operation in the south can pull Tehran out of the framework regardless of what is agreed on Hormuz.

And above all of it sits the unanswered question from the final night: who actually speaks for Iran. The contested succession after Ali Khamenei’s death means Washington has spent two months negotiating with a state that cannot clearly say who has the authority to bind it. A deal signed by Araghchi or Ghalibaf is only as durable as the faction behind them, and that faction has never been confirmed.

The scorecard for Day 94 is narrow. The ceasefire has held where it counts: the air campaign has not resumed, and Trump’s threat to take Iran’s “entire country out in one night” has not been executed. Everything else is unfinished. The strait is not reopened. The blockade is not lifted. The mines are not cleared. The nuclear file is not resolved. The MoU is not signed.

Pakistan built a bridge over a minefield in April, in the literal and figurative sense. Fifty-five days into the ceasefire, the bridge is still standing and the mines are still live. The 60-day clock that would clear them has not started, because no one has signed the order to start it.