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DLNews World at War

Tie-less Talks, War Games, and a Phone Call to Putin

It began with whispers about neckwear and ended with the world holding its breath. On Monday afternoon, the chatter in Washington was whether Volodymyr Zelensky, 47, would finally show up to the Oval Office in a tie. By Tuesday morning, the tie talk seemed ridiculous. Suddenly, the real question was on the table: could Russia’s war against Ukraine finally inch toward an end?

Zelensky did indeed skip the tie, strolling into the White House in a black jacket while Donald Trump, 79, played host with uncharacteristic warmth. Smiles, pats on the back, even laughter—all after years of bloodshed. It was a picture of peace, or at least the photo-op version of it. For a moment, it felt like history was wobbling on a knife’s edge, ready to tip one way or another.

Inside the Oval Office, there were no fireworks, just flattery. Trump declared it a “great atmosphere” and cheerfully reminded everyone that Ukraine’s war was “Biden’s war.” Zelensky smiled and played along, praising Trump for support that has come in fits and starts. Then Trump dropped his headline-maker: “Vladimir Putin wants to end this war.” Left unspoken was the fine print—ending it on Moscow’s terms, likely carving Ukraine into pieces.

The performance was as bizarre as it was tense. Trump professed love for Ukrainians, then in the same breath for Russians. “I love them all,” he said, as if confusing a geopolitical horror show with a family reunion. Zelensky, visibly seasoned from years of survival, played it cool. He wants a meeting with Trump and Putin together, the only format he sees that might truly stop the killing. Trump was less committed: maybe a three-way sit-down, maybe just more fighting.

Midway through talks, Trump casually broke off to ring Putin, leaving European leaders like Friedrich Merz, Emmanuel Macron, Keir Starmer, and Giorgia Meloni twiddling their thumbs in the next room. The Europeans—once hesitant supporters of Ukraine—now insist on having a seat at the table, though whether they bring weight or just noise remains unclear.

By the end of the day, Trump was back at a long table in the East Room, playing master of ceremonies, introducing Zelensky and his European guests as if this were a business luncheon instead of a war council. The mood oscillated between hope and hostility, a surreal mixture of laughter layered over latent aggression.

It was, in short, a night of hope, stage-managed by a showman, endured by a soldier-president, and shadowed by the Kremlin’s looming grin. For now, there is talk. There is negotiation. And there is still the sound of guns in Ukraine, waiting to see if this new theater in Washington leads to peace—or just another act in the tragedy.