😢 They Left an 8-Page Goodbye Note… Because Their Phones Were Taken Away Over Their Love for Korean Culture 💔🇰🇷

In a quiet suburb near New Delhi, a family is shattered after losing their three precious daughters — ages 12, 14, and 16 — in a heartbreaking pact.

The girls were deeply immersed in K-dramas, K-pop, and Korean online worlds, even adopting Korean names and dreaming of a life there. When their parents, worried about excessive screen time, took away their phones, the sisters felt their whole world collapse.

In an emotional 8-page diary note, they poured out their hearts: “Korea is our life… Sorry, Papa.”

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A family in the Bharat City residential society on the outskirts of New Delhi is living a nightmare after three young daughters took their own lives in the early hours of February 4, 2026, by jumping from the ninth floor of their apartment building. The incident, which has stunned India and drawn international attention, centers on the girls’ intense fascination with Korean pop culture — K-dramas, K-pop, online games, and virtual identities — and the family’s desperate attempt to pull them back to reality by limiting phone access.

The sisters — Nishika (16), Prachi (14), and Pakhi (12) — were found deceased around 2:15 a.m. after neighbors heard loud thuds and alerted authorities. Police recovered an eight-page handwritten diary from their room, along with a shorter suicide note addressed to their parents. The writings, confirmed by the father Chetan Kumar as the girls’ handwriting, reveal a profound emotional detachment from their Indian identity and family, replaced by an all-consuming attachment to everything Korean.

In the diary, the sisters repeatedly expressed that “Korea is our life” and accused their parents of trying to force them to abandon it. Entries included lines such as: “We love Korean, love, love, love… How will you make us leave Korean? Korean was our life, so how dare you make us leave our life?” They also wrote that they could never marry Indian men, viewed themselves as “Korean princesses,” and had adopted Korean names — Maria, Aliza, and Cindy — for social media accounts with followers. The note ended with apologies: “Sorry, Papa… Sorry, Mummy… Read everything in the diary.”

The father told reporters the obsession began during the COVID-19 pandemic when the girls spent long hours isolated at home with phones and internet access. They immersed themselves in K-dramas, K-pop music, Korean short films, and interactive online content, often staying up late and skipping school. Chetan said he only fully realized the depth of the fixation two to three months ago, when he discovered their Korean-named social media profiles. He deleted the accounts and confiscated their phones about 10 days before the tragedy, hoping to curb what he saw as unhealthy behavior.

“The girls were on their phones until midnight every night,” Chetan said in interviews. “They wanted me to take them to Korea. They said if they couldn’t go, they would die.” He described how the phone restriction left them deeply distressed, refusing meals and withdrawing further. Police have seized the devices for forensic analysis, though initial probes found no evidence of a specific “task-based Korean love game” directing self-harm — despite early speculation. Instead, investigators point to broader influence from Korean entertainment, social isolation, family tensions, and possible underlying mental health struggles.

Deputy Commissioner of Police Nimish Patil noted: “The girls were influenced by Korean culture… They expressed deep loneliness and felt no one understood their love for it.” The family had faced financial strain — Chetan reportedly carried significant debt as a stock trader — adding to household stress, though he denied it as a primary factor.

The tragedy has reignited national debates over children’s screen time, the allure of global pop culture, and parental oversight in the digital age. K-pop and K-dramas have exploded in popularity among Indian youth, with millions following idols and series that often portray idealized romance, beauty standards, and lifestyles. Experts warn that unchecked immersion can blur reality and fantasy, especially for vulnerable teens facing identity questions or isolation.

Mental health advocates highlight how prolonged online engagement during the pandemic disrupted normal social development for many children. In this case, the sisters reportedly avoided school and real-world interactions, building a parallel life online where they felt accepted as part of a Korean world. The diary’s references to feeling misunderstood by family — “We didn’t love you family members as much as we love Korean actors and K-pop groups” — underscore the emotional rift.

Community response in Ghaziabad has been one of shock and sorrow. Neighbors and local residents have placed flowers and candles outside the building, while social media overflows with condolences and calls for better mental health resources in schools. The father has publicly urged parents to monitor children’s online habits closely and even called for restrictions on certain Korean content, saying: “Korean culture killed my children.”

Investigators continue to examine the girls’ digital footprints, including any interactions in online communities or gaming apps. No foul play is suspected, and authorities have ruled out external coercion. The focus remains on understanding how three bright young girls reached such despair.

For Chetan Kumar and his wife, the loss is unimaginable. They grieve not only the absence of their daughters but also the signs they missed amid daily struggles. In interviews, Chetan has expressed regret over the phone confiscation, wondering if a gentler approach — counseling or gradual limits — might have made a difference.

The case serves as a stark warning about the double-edged sword of global connectivity: how cultural phenomena like K-pop can inspire joy and creativity for millions, yet become overwhelming for some, especially amid family pressures or personal vulnerabilities. As India grapples with rising youth mental health concerns, this family’s tragedy underscores the urgent need for open conversations, early intervention, and balanced digital boundaries.

In the quiet corridors of Bharat City society, three young lives were lost too soon. Their final words in that eight-page diary — a mix of love, pain, and farewell — echo as a heartbreaking plea for understanding in a world that moved too fast for them to keep up.