Twisha Sharma’s final word still buzzes in the WhatsApp clouds she shared with her mother. “I’m trapped,” she had typed just hours before her body was found in Bhopal, a place far from her Noida roots. The clock had almost run out, for she was supposed to return home three days later on May 15.
She met Samarth Singh on a dating app in 2024, married a year later, and then set his sights on the capital’s quieter suburbs. The couple moved into a modest home near the Bhopal rail line, where she lived until Sunday night. But her family said she kept dialing her mother late each evening, pleading for a way out.
Truth is, the post‑mortem report did not paint a simple picture. It listed “multiple antemortem injuries” – wounds and bruises that were present before her death. The list raised questions that her relatives won’t let go of. Saurabh Sharma, her maternal uncle, told NDTV she had asked to leave the city, to reclaim the life she had built in Noida. She stayed on the line with her mother until about 10 p.m. Tuesday, just before she was discovered.
And yet, the case has only just begun to unfold. The family wants a second autopsy at AIIMS Delhi, while her body has lain in the mortuary at AIIMS Bhopal for five days. Those protests do more than demand answers; they scream that the de‑facto status of the death is contested, that the relationship between any suspect and the deceased was far from normal.
In the hushed corridors of the morgue, forensic experts sift through evidence that may tell a darker story than a coincidence. But the community, too, is still adjusting to a woman whose social media profile was dotted with smiling emojis. Her life, documented on that dating app, is now a chessboard of correspondence, emotion and desperation.
If the second post‑mortem finds nothing new, it will force the court to decide whether the injuries were inflicted by a love‑afflicted partner, a jealous relative, or a villain who knows the streets of Bhopal as well as the outlines of Noida. In either case, the unanswered question remains: how many more “I’m trapped” messages will whisper through the dimly lit phones of those left behind?
