Ankita (name changed), a 24-year-old engineering student from Doti, never imagined that the person she trusted the most would become the source of her deepest pain. For five years, she had been in a committed relationship with her boyfriend.
Everything seemed fine until one day, whispers began circulating among her peers. She soon discovered she had become the topic of gossip, branded as “characterless.” People she barely knew began sending her abusive messages, some even crossed all limits by sending her obscene pictures. Confused and humiliated, Ankita tried to understand what went wrong. After some digging, she was shattered to learn that her private photos/moments shared in trust had been leaked online across several pornographic sites and on X. Her sense of safety collapsed in an instant. But the greatest betrayal was yet to be revealed, the person behind the leak was her own boyfriend. When confronted, his justification was horrifyingly casual; he claimed he did it “for a kick,” to “flex her” and show that she was “his.” The sheer hypocrisy and cruelty of his actions were beyond comprehension. To make matters worse, he was living abroad, outside the reach of immediate legal action.
Shattered but determined, Ankita, accompanied by her friends, went to the local police station to file a complaint. What she hoped would be the beginning of justice turned into another layer of trauma. The police officers, instead of offering empathy or protection, questioned her character. Some even suggested that she might have shared the photos intentionally to seek attention or favor. One officer reportedly said, “If you didn’t want it to go public, why did you share it at all?” It was a painful reminder of how victim-blaming remains deeply embedded in our institutions. The justice system that should have protected her only made her feel smaller, weaker, and more exposed. Her case dragged on with little progress.
The key accused her ex-boyfriend was living abroad, and Nepal’s cyber laws offered no clear mechanism to bring him under legal jurisdiction. The humiliation continued online. Despite reporting the images on multiple platforms, the content was not removed quickly. For weeks, Ankita could barely sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she feared another message, another notification, another reminder that her life was no longer her own.
Ankita’s story is not unique. Across Nepal and indeed, around the world young people are navigating love in the digital era without a clear understanding of the risks. With smartphones becoming extensions of our emotions, digital intimacy has become an unspoken part of modern relationships. Couples share private photos, videos, and messages as symbols of trust and affection. But few realize that once shared digitally, these moments are no longer entirely within their control. According to Nepal Police’s Cyber Bureau, cases of revenge porn, sextortion, and non-consensual image sharing have been rising sharply in recent years. Yet, most victims do not come forward due to shame, fear of social stigma, or lack of trust in the authorities. The problem lies not only in the acts themselves but also in our collective response, a mixture of judgment, silence, and technological ignorance.
Social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and X have revolutionized how we connect, communicate, and express ourselves. They’ve given voice to the voiceless, allowed distant loved ones to stay close, and opened doors to creativity and social change. But they have also become tools of manipulation, harassment, and exploitation. On one hand, social media is a blessing enabling activism, education, and global awareness. On the other hand, it has turned into a breeding ground for cyberbullying, privacy violations, and mental health crises.
In Ankita’s case, social media amplified her trauma. The same platforms that once carried her expressions of love now carried her humiliation. Once the images went viral, there was no turning back. Even after removal, digital traces often remain archived in corners of the internet that never forget. This dual nature of social media raises a crucial question for our time: How can we continue to benefit from these platforms while ensuring accountability, privacy, and safety?
Earlier this year, the Government of Nepal sparked massive outrage when it proposed banning social media platforms that were not registered in the country. Thousands of young users protested online, calling it a violation of freedom of expression. While the frustration was justified, the issue also revealed something deeper: the need for balanced digital regulation. Banning social media outright is not the answer. But ignoring its growing misuse is equally dangerous. Nepal urgently needs clear, updated, and enforceable cyber laws that address the realities of the digital age. Laws that not only criminalize online harassment and image-based abuse but also empower victims with access to psychological support, legal aid, and data protection.
Countries like the UK, Australia, and South Korea have already enacted laws that allow victims of non-consensual image sharing to report and have their content removed quickly. Nepal can and must follow suit. Moreover, social media companies themselves must bear greater responsibility. Platforms should improve their moderation systems, provide faster content takedown mechanisms, and cooperate with local law enforcement. Without accountability both from governments and corporations the internet will remain a lawless space where justice is slow, and trauma is endless.
The act of leaking someone’s private pictures is not merely a crime of technology, it is a crime of trust. It weaponizes intimacy. For the victim, the emotional toll is often equivalent to or worse than physical assault. Victims experience anxiety, depression, and long-term trauma.
In conservative societies, where women are often judged more harshly, such incidents can destroy careers, education, and family relationships. Ankita’s silence for weeks after the incident reflects this psychological burden. She feared not only societal judgment but also the loss of her identity. Every look, every whisper, became a reminder of her pain. The healing process for victims like her is not just about removing photos or catching perpetrators, it’s about reclaiming dignity and agency in a society that too often blames the survivor instead of the criminal. Relationships should include discussions about boundaries, respect, and the risks of sharing personal content online.
For many, love has become an act of possession rather than partnership. Social media amplifies this by rewarding public displays of affection, relationship “proofs,” and constant validation. In such a culture, private love becomes public performance and when that performance ends, revenge or exposure becomes the final act. True love, however, is rooted in respect, consent, and trust. Without those, digital intimacy turns into digital exploitation.
Love itself is not the trap, it’s the misuse of trust, technology, and power that ensnares people like Ankita. In this era of digital intimacy, love has become easier to express but harder to protect. Social media, with all its blessings, can turn into a curse when wielded without empathy or accountability. The same tool that connects can also destroy; the same platform that gives voice can also be silent. As a society, we must redefine both love and responsibility in the digital context. We must teach that sharing does not equal consent, that privacy is not negotiable, and that no one deserves shame for trusting someone they love.
For Ankita, the scars may never fully fade. But if her story can spark awareness, compassion, and change, perhaps her pain will not have been in vain. Because in the end, love is not a trap, it’s a test of how responsible we handle the trust it gives us.
