In the 12-day war, some families suffered severe losses. Among them was the family of Dr. Zohreh Rasouli, whose infant’s bandaged face circulated widely on social media.

According to Iran Daily, only a week remained before Dr. Rasouli was to take her subspecialty fellowship exam in perinatology — the field of maternal and fetal medicine — bringing her a step closer to the professional life she had long envisioned. But the missiles gave her no chance. At dawn on June 12, everything in her life turned into burning red flames — flames that first took the life of two-month-old Ryan, and four days later, claimed both her and her husband. Now, only one member of the Rasouli family remains: Kian, a five-year-old boy with a fragile body, wrapped in white bandages for a month, living side by side with pain. Earlier, Dr. Rasouli had temporarily left her hospital job to better care for Kian, working only at her private clinic — to bring Ryan safely into the world after a difficult pregnancy, while continuing her studies to advance her medical specialty.

A Patient and Compassionate Doctor

Dr. Zohreh Rasouli had an Instagram page where she even shared her phone number — something very few doctors do. She appeared to be highly accessible to her patients and used the platform to educate followers about maternal and fetal health, pregnancy care, and common misconceptions. She posted videos of newborn deliveries — Janan and Mohammad Yasin — and shared educational posts. A Google search of her name reveals numerous positive reviews on online appointment platforms like Paziresh 24 and Nobat.ir. Some users, after the June 12 tragedy, left tributes on her profile. One user wrote last December: “She is a very kind and patient doctor.” Another, named Robabeh, wrote: “Her behavior was excellent; she patiently listened to all my questions and answered every one of them.” Another, Fatemeh, wrote five months ago: “A very experienced, understanding, kind, and compassionate doctor — the only one who truly spends time with her patients.”

A Supportive Mentor

Like Dr. Marzieh Asgari, who was killed in an Israeli strike while visiting her family in Tehran, Dr. Rasouli had come from Qazvin to her parents’ home for the holidays leading up to Eid al-Ghadir. Originally from Tehran, she had studied and worked in Qazvin University of Medical Sciences during her residency and faculty years. Her colleague, Dr. Jahani, recalls:
“She was extremely patient and dedicated. In the OB-GYN department, she was always reliable during shifts, never raised her voice, and treated everyone with respect. She came from a refined family. During residency, she was quiet and reserved, but when she became an attending physician, her more outgoing side emerged — supportive, helpful, and passionate about teaching residents.”

She often paid for patients who couldn’t afford their visit fees and hoped to continue teaching despite her growing workload. But with her nanny unable to continue caring for Kian, she decided to temporarily leave her position at Kosar Hospital in Qazvin. “We begged her to stay,” Dr. Jahani said. “She said, ‘I’ll return after I complete my fellowship.’”

The last time most colleagues saw her was on Teachers’ Day, when residents invited her to their celebration and she posted the photo on Instagram, smiling and holding a bouquet — her final post ten weeks before her death. She had planned to take the perinatology fellowship exam after giving birth to Ryan, hoping to return to teaching once life settled down.

The Agony and Loss of Ryan

Ryan was the infant whose image — his tiny body wrapped in dark bandages and connected to oxygen tubes — became one of the war’s haunting symbols. Born on April 4, he would have been three months old. When a missile hit the Faculty Residence Building, where Dr. Rasouli’s parents lived on the third floor, a massive fire broke out. The blast caused severe burns to the entire family — but Zohreh, her husband, and their children suffered the worst. Ryan, the two-month-old, died almost instantly. Four days later, his parents — Dr. Rasouli and Engineer Behnam Ghasemian — also passed away.

Her father, Dr. Iraj Rasouli, a microbiologist, later described that night:
“My daughter said she had a surgery scheduled for the next morning — ‘I’ll go at dawn.’ But the dawn never came. One of her last words, with 80% burns in the ambulance, was: ‘Please tell my secretary to inform my patients not to wait for me.’”

Dr. Rasouli was carried from the burning apartment with 50% burns, collapsing at the ground floor before rescue teams reached her. She was still trying to crawl toward the door. Ryan was taken to the burn hospital, but the doctors already knew there was no hope. Even then, she thought only of her children: “Promise me you’ll take care of them,” she told her father. When she heard Ryan crying, she said, “My baby’s hungry — please, let me feed him,” unaware that his cries were from unbearable pain and fear. That same day, Ryan’s short two-month life came to an end.

A Family’s Legacy

The story of Dr. Zohreh Rasouli and her family — especially the death of baby Ryan — shocked the nation. Vincent Cassard, head of the International Committee of the Red Cross in Iran, visited the family’s home and said, “I am stunned by the level of violence and suffering this family endured.”

Dr. Rasouli’s husband, Dr. Behnam Ghasemian, a mechanical engineer from Khorramabad, was among Iran’s academic elites. Her father, Dr. Iraj Rasouli, born in 1960 in Ahar, is a distinguished microbiologist — a former university professor and award-winning researcher with over 190 international papers and six English-language books published in Europe. He was recognized as a National Exemplary Professor in 2013 and a Top Researcher in 2002.

Kian Ghasemian — The Sole Survivor

Their surviving son, Kian, remains hospitalized with 55% burns. Though his condition has improved, doctors are uncertain about the long-term effects. He was supposed to start preschool in September but has lost his parents and brother. His burns are deep, requiring multiple skin grafts. “We just hope he doesn’t suffer permanent disabilities,” Dr. Jahani said.

Colleagues remain heartbroken and traumatized. One close friend said she hasn’t been able to hold or breastfeed her own children since the tragedy. “Losing one’s parents is the worst fate imaginable — we just pray Kian will recover physically.”

When the first missile struck, none of her colleagues imagined she was among the victims. “Her phone never answered. We reached her father by email and learned the truth,” Dr. Jahani recalled. “Her airways were severely burned — she told doctors herself: ‘I can’t breathe, please intubate me.’”

The burns were too severe. The doctor treating her said there was no hope from the start. “Zohreh was like a sister to us,” her colleagues said. “Maybe she followed Ryan — she couldn’t bear to leave him alone.”

Dr. Rasouli endured two difficult pregnancies complicated by gestational diabetes, even requiring insulin in her last one. Despite it all, she remained strong, determined, and driven to save others — but never got the chance to take her exam and help more lives.