But the challenge is to overcome not just the shattered infrastructure, but also the deep resentments that come from being bombed, starved and run out of the city. The amnesty alone left hard feelings on all sides. Some government supporters are enraged that hundreds of fighters, some of whom had killed their relatives, have been allowed to go free since February.

“This is natural,” the Homs governor, Talal Barazi, who has lost a cousin in the fighting, said in a recent interview. “Initially, we said we had to take revenge on these armed groups. But if you have a bird’s-eye view of the benefit of the country, reconciliation is more important than individual emotions and interests.”

But with some civilians and former fighters who accepted the evacuation still detained by the government for background checks that were part of the deal, fears of reprisal remain. The Homs prison is full of young Syrians arrested as long as two years ago for acts such as delivering medicine and food to demonstrators.

The amnesties also sowed division within the opposition. As bombs fell on the Old City last week, a woman there accused those who left of betraying others for “a shwarma sandwich and a bottle of yogurt.”

“Through two years of patience we were one hand,” the unidentified woman lamented in a video posted online. “They left just for the sake of a water pipe or a cigarette. May regrets be upon you — the blood of Homs men will be chasing you until the day of resurrection.”

Outside the neighborhood, trust is also in short supply. From her rooftop in the government-held Zahra neighborhood, Saada Qassem can see the Old City skyline, ragged like a mouthful of broken teeth. Somewhere in there, her son disappeared two years ago while driving a taxi — kidnapped, she believes, because he, like President Bashar al-Assad, belongs to the Alawite minority. More recently, a bullet from that direction grazed her young grandson’s sternum, and a neighboring street was hit by one of many insurgent car bombs.