I Saw Myself in Twisha Sharma

A case all over the internet these days — the Twisha Sharma case. A bold, beautiful, educated, and ambitious woman. The kind of woman people describe as “beauty with brains.” She was an MBA graduate, an actress, financially independent, confident, and strong enough to speak for herself. A woman who seemed to have everything society admires — intelligence, grace, talent, and courage. Yet despite all of that, she lost her life in the cruelest way possible.

And somewhere while reading about her, I saw myself.

My story is not exactly the same, but it is not very different either. I was physically and verbally abused by someone I loved — my boyfriend. Someone I trusted. Someone I believed cared for me. I had only known him for ten months before I finally saw his true face, but those ten months were enough to leave scars that still live quietly inside me.

For the longest time, I blamed myself. I thought I was weak because I tolerated the disrespect, the insults, the manipulation, the anger, and eventually the abuse. I kept asking myself the same painful questions: Why did I stay silent? Why did I forgive so many times? Why did I keep hoping he would change?

But the truth is, abuse rarely begins with violence. It begins slowly. With words. With control disguised as love. With disrespect hidden behind apologies. One moment they make you feel special, and the next they make you question your worth. And before you even realize it, you are stuck trying to save a relationship that is slowly destroying you.

The harassment I faced was not about dowry, but pain does not need the same reason to feel real. Abuse is abuse. Fear is fear. Trauma is trauma. And sadly, stories like these are not rare anymore. Every day we hear about another woman suffering silently behind closed doors — educated women, independent women, strong women. Women who were raised with love yet end up begging for basic respect from someone who claims to love them.

Maybe that is why this case affected me so deeply. I could feel her pain in a very personal way. I could understand the loneliness, the confusion, and the emotional exhaustion that comes from loving someone who slowly turns into the source of your suffering.

People often try to find reasons behind such tragedies. They question the woman’s choices, her career, her beauty, her independence, or her lifestyle. But I don’t think the problem was ever with women.

Twisha was accomplished, ambitious, fearless, and full of life. She was “Miss Pune,” a woman who had dreams, confidence, and a future ahead of her. She did not deserve such an ending. No woman does.

The real problem lies in men who lack basic humanity — men without respect, morals, character, or emotional control. Men who feel powerful by humiliating women. Men who mistake dominance for masculinity and cruelty for strength.

It breaks my heart how a daughter can be loved, protected, cherished and worshiped in her father’s home, yet suffer unimaginable cruelty in the hands of someone who once promised love. How does someone look into the eyes of a woman who trusts them and still choose to hurt her?

For a long time, I carried shame inside me. I felt miserable about my life. I questioned my worth and wondered why this happened to me. I thought surviving abuse somehow made me weak.

But somewhere in this pain, I realized something important:

I was never the weak one.

The weak person was the man who raised his hand on me. The one who disrespected me to my face and behind my back. The one who tried to make me feel small so he could feel powerful himself. The one who lacked the emotional maturity to love someone with kindness and respect.

Walking away was not weakness. Surviving was not weakness. Speaking about it is not weakness.

In fact, surviving something that broke you and still choosing to heal takes unimaginable strength.

Today, when I look back, I no longer feel only sadness. I feel gratitude too. At least I am safe. At least I survived. At least that person is no longer part of my life. At least God showed me the truth before it was too late.

Because not everyone gets the chance to leave in time.

And that realization changes everything.

I’m grateful God protected me from becoming another Twisha Sharma by showing me his true face before my story could end in tragedy.

Maybe that is the biggest blessing of all.

Thank God.

The best thing life ever did for me was remove him from it.