Iranian State TV Announces Death Of Khamenei’s Wife After US Israeli Airstrike
Iranian state television presenters announced the death of Mansoureh Khojasteh Bagherzadeh, the 79-year-old wife of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, after she succumbed to injuries sustained in the same US-Israeli airstrike that killed her husband at his compound in Tehran.
She died two days after Khamenei was killed, The Wall Street Journal reported. State television declared that Bagherzadeh’s “long dream of martyrdom became true” and said her death would spark “a massive uprising in the fight against oppressors.”
The announcement followed an earlier broadcast in which an anchor tearfully reported the Supreme Leader’s death. Iran declared an official 40-day mourning period and a seven-day national holiday.
According to the Daily Mail, Bagherzadeh married Khamenei in 1965. They had four sons and two daughters.
In a 2011 interview with state media, she described her role as maintaining a calm home environment so her husband could work in peace.
“I think my biggest role was to preserve a calm atmosphere in our home so that he could do his work in peace,” she said.
She also said she visited him in prison without burdening him with family problems and “would only give him good news.”
She acknowledged distributing pamphlets, carrying messages, and hiding documents during the revolutionary period but described those efforts as “not worth mentioning.”
Her death comes amid escalating military exchanges between Iran and US-Israeli forces.
The Iranian Red Crescent Society said at least 555 people have been killed across Iran in the campaign, with more than 130 cities coming under attack.
Iran’s ambassador to the International Atomic Energy Agency, Reza Najafi, condemned the strikes as “unlawful, criminal and brutal” and alleged that the Natanz nuclear enrichment site was targeted.
“Their justification that Iran wants to develop nuclear weapons is simply a big lie,” Najafi told journalists.
Ali Larijani, a senior Iranian security official, wrote on X that “we will not negotiate with the United States.”
Iran is believed to have launched multiple retaliatory attacks across the region.
An attack reportedly struck the American embassy compound in Kuwait City, though there were no immediate reports of damage or casualties. Kuwaiti air defenses mistakenly shot down three American F 15E Strike Eagles.
US Central Command confirmed that all six aircrew ejected safely, were recovered, and are in stable condition.
A pro-Iranian militia in Iraq launched attacks targeting Irbil and a British base in Cyprus. Officials in Oman said a drone boat struck an oil tanker in the Gulf of Oman near Muscat, killing one mariner.
Saudi Aramco temporarily shut down its Ras Tanura oil refinery near Dammam after Iranian drones targeted it.
Saudi state television described the shutdown as “a precautionary one.”
Officials reported 11 people killed in Israel and 31 in Lebanon during the exchanges.
Iran’s combat fleet was engaged in the conflict for the first time.
Iranian officials have framed Bagherzadeh’s death as an act of martyrdom as the country enters a prolonged mourning period.
The conflict continues to evolve as regional tensions remain high.
A senior White House official stated on Sunday that Iran’s “new potential leadership” has indicated a willingness to engage in talks with the United States. This announcement follows a significant military operation by American and Israeli forces, which resulted in the deaths of Iran’s supreme leader and several high-ranking officials, according to Fox News.
The official, who requested anonymity to discuss internal administration matters, mentioned that President Donald Trump is “eventually” open to negotiations, but for the time being, the military operation “continues unabated.” The official did not specify who the potential new leaders of Iran are or how they expressed their willingness to negotiate.
Trump told The Atlantic on Sunday that he planned to speak with Iran’s new leadership.
“They want to talk, and I have agreed to talk, so I will be talking to them,” he said, declining comment on the timing.
“Left Behind at a Broken Gas Station… They Built an Empire No One Saw Coming”
The wind never stopped at Mile 47.
It didn’t howl like a storm or roar like a warning. It just lingered—dry, restless—dragging dust across cracked concrete and whispering through the skeleton of what used to be a family business.
The old gas station stood there like it had been forgotten on purpose.
Rusted fuel pumps leaned slightly to one side. The faded sign above them—HARRIS FAMILY GAS—barely held onto its letters. Paint peeled from every surface, and the glass windows were long gone, replaced by splintered boards that creaked whenever the wind pushed too hard.
Most people didn’t even slow down when they passed.
But two children did.
Because they didn’t have anywhere else to go.
—
“Hold it steady, Emma.”
“I am,” the little girl whispered, tightening her grip on the flashlight.
The beam flickered slightly as her small hands adjusted, illuminating the inside of the rusted fuel pump.
Beside it, kneeling on one knee, Ethan Harris, eleven years old, leaned in closer.
His hands were covered in grease. His sleeves rolled up. A wrench clenched tightly between his fingers.
He didn’t look like a child anymore.
Not here.
Not now.
He looked like someone who had already learned that if he didn’t fix things—
no one else would.
—
Three months earlier, their father had left.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just a truck pulling out onto the empty highway before sunrise.
Emma had woken up first.
“Where’s Dad?”
Ethan had already known the answer.
Even before he said it.
“He’ll be back,” he lied.
But he didn’t believe it.
And neither did she.
—
The first week had been the hardest.
The fridge emptied faster than they expected.
The lights flickered more often than they should.
Bills piled up on the old wooden counter inside the station office.
Each envelope felt heavier than the last.
Ethan stopped opening them.
—
“Are we gonna be okay?” Emma had asked one night.
She always asked at night.
Because that’s when things felt real.
Ethan had stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Then finally said—
“Yeah. We are.”
This time—
he meant it.
—
That was the night he decided.
The station wasn’t dead.
Not yet.
—
Back in the present, Ethan tightened the bolt carefully.
Then pulled the pump handle.
Nothing.
He exhaled slowly.
Adjusted again.
Tapped lightly.
Tried once more.
A hollow clank echoed inside.
Still nothing.
—
Emma stepped closer.
“You think it’s gonna work?”
Ethan didn’t answer right away.
Because hope wasn’t something you promised.
It was something you tested.
—
“I think it has to.”
—
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks into months.
Ethan studied everything he could find.
Old manuals.
Worn-out receipts.
Broken parts scattered across the storage room.
He didn’t just fix things—
he learned them.
—
Emma helped in the only way she could.
Holding tools.
Cleaning parts.
Standing beside him even when she didn’t understand what he was doing.
—
“You’re gonna fix it,” she said one afternoon.
Not a question.
A belief.
—
Ethan nodded.
“I will.”
—
The first time the pump worked—
it wasn’t dramatic.
There was no big moment.
No music.
No celebration.
—
Just a quiet click.
A low mechanical hum.
And then—
gasoline flowed.
Slow.
Uneven.
But real.
—
Ethan froze.
Emma gasped.
—
“IT’S WORKING!”
—
The sound of her voice carried across the empty highway.
And for the first time in months—
it didn’t feel empty anymore.
—
Their first customer almost didn’t stop.
A pickup truck slowed.
Hesitated.
Then pulled in.
—
The driver stepped out.
Looked around.
Confused.
—
“You kids running this place?”
Ethan nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
—
The man studied him for a moment.
Then smiled faintly.
“Well… I guess I need gas either way.”
—
That was all it took.
—
Word spread slowly.
A working pump on a dead stretch of road.
Two kids running it.
—
Drivers started stopping.
Not many.
But enough.
—
Ethan kept improving.
Fixing more pumps.
Cleaning the station.
Repainting signs with whatever scraps he could find.
—
Emma greeted every customer like they mattered.
Because to her—
they did.
—
Years passed.
—
The station changed.
Then the road did.
More traffic.
More demand.
—
Ethan expanded.
Bought new equipment.
Hired help.
Built something bigger.
—
But he never forgot—
what it felt like to be left behind.
—
At seventeen, he opened a second station.
At twenty-two, a third.
—
By twenty-five—
Harris Fuel wasn’t just a business.
It was a network.
—
Emma handled the people.
Ethan handled everything else.
Together—
they built something no one expected.
—
A chain of gas stations stretching across states.
Clean.
Reliable.
Trusted.
—
But success didn’t erase the past.
It just made it quieter.
—
Until the day it came back.
—
It happened at the original station.
The one at Mile 47.
They never sold it.
Never rebuilt it fully.
—
It stayed.
A reminder.
—
Ethan stood there one afternoon, older now, stronger—but still carrying the same look in his eyes.
Emma stood beside him.
“Feels smaller,” she said.
—
Ethan nodded.
“Everything does… once you survive it.”
—
A car pulled in.
Old.
Rusty.
Out of place.
—
The driver stepped out.
Slower than most.
Older than Ethan remembered.
—
For a second—
time stopped.
—
Emma’s hand tightened around Ethan’s arm.
“Is that…?”
—
Ethan didn’t answer.
Because he already knew.
—
Their father.
—
He looked thinner.
Weaker.
Like life had taken more than it gave.
—
“I heard about you,” the man said quietly.
His voice unfamiliar.
“But not entirely.
—
“You built all this.”
—
Ethan didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
—
“You left us,” Emma said.
Her voice shaking.
But strong.
—
The man looked down.
“I thought… I thought I was saving you.”
—
Silence.
—
“From what?” Ethan asked.
—
The man hesitated.
Then said something neither of them expected.
—
“From the debt.”
—
Ethan’s expression changed.
—
“I owed money. A lot. Bad people. If I stayed… they would’ve taken everything. Maybe worse.”
—
Emma frowned.
“You still left.”
—
“I had to make them believe I disappeared. If they thought you were connected to me… you wouldn’t be safe.”
—
The air shifted.
—
“Everything you built…” the man continued, “you built because I left. And I’ve lived with that every day.”
—
Ethan looked at him.
Really looked.
—
Not as a child.
Not as someone abandoned.
—
But as someone who had survived.
—
“You don’t get to come back and take credit for that,” he said calmly.
—
“I’m not,” the man replied.
“I just… wanted to see if you were okay.”
—
Emma stepped forward.
Tears in her eyes.
But not anger.
Not anymore.
—
“We were more than okay.”
—
A long silence passed.
—
Then Ethan reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a card.
—
“Harris Fuel,” he said.
“If you need gas… it’s on us.”
—
The man took it slowly.
Nodded once.
—
Then turned.
And drove away.
—
This time—
no one stopped him.
—
Emma exhaled.
“That was it?”
—
Ethan looked out at the road.
—
“Yeah,” he said.
“Because we didn’t need him to stay… to prove we made it.”
—
The wind moved again.
Dust across the old concrete.
—
But this time—
it didn’t feel empty.
—
Because sometimes—
being left behind…
is exactly what forces you to move forward.
—
So let me ask you this:
