Living in this fairytale world and getting attention made her feel happy
In Singapore, a man discovered that a former schoolmate he had barely spoken to in school had spent years constructing an elaborate digital fiction around his image — fabricating a shared romance, a pregnancy, and a family using AI-generated photographs. The case illuminates how artificial intelligence has lowered the barrier between obsession and its expression, allowing a private delusion to become a public intrusion into another person's life and identity. Legal frameworks exist to address such conduct, but the deeper question the story raises is one as old as human longing: what happens when the need for connection becomes indifferent to the reality of another person.
- A Singapore man spent months discovering AI-manipulated images of himself circulating online, depicting a fabricated life — a partner, a pregnancy, children — that bore no relation to reality.
- His sister's infant son was among those whose photographs were appropriated and altered, sending the family into deep anxiety about who held their children's images and what might be done with them.
- When the perpetrator finally responded to confrontation, she said she had created the images out of love — revealing not malice in the conventional sense, but a delusional inner world that a clinical psychologist warned could escalate toward real-world contact.
- Other victims emerged from the shadows, reporting that the woman had impersonated Luke online since at least 2017, building false relationships with strangers using his photographs across multiple platforms.
- Luke filed a police report and is pursuing a protection order under Singapore's Protection from Harassment Act, which requires no proof of intent — only that the conduct causes distress — while both he and his sister have locked down their social media to limit further exposure.
In December 2025, a Singapore man named Luke discovered that photographs of him were circulating online, placing him beside a woman he had never been close to — posed as her fiancé, holding a baby that did not exist. He is single and has no children. Over the months that followed, more fabricated images appeared, some incorporating his sister's young children, including her six-month-old son, with the unknown woman digitally inserted as their mother. The images bore the unmistakable distortions of artificial intelligence — a blue shirt where there had been black, a chair warped by an algorithm, details that no camera could have produced.
Luke eventually recognized the woman: a former schoolmate he had exchanged no more than two sentences with, someone he had not seen in fifteen years. The images kept multiplying — scenes of dating, of pregnancy, of new fatherhood. The psychological toll was real. He struggled to sleep. His concentration at work deteriorated. His sister, unable to get the woman to respond privately, posted about the harassment on Threads in early June. The post drew over twelve thousand likes — and drew out the woman herself, who told Luke's sister that she had created the images out of love, that living inside this fabricated world made her feel happy.
The public post also surfaced other victims, who reported that the woman had been impersonating Luke online since at least 2017, using his photographs to build false relationships that never crossed into the physical world. A clinical psychologist who reviewed the case identified signs of delusional thinking and warned that without intervention, the behavior could escalate until the woman sought real-world contact.
Luke filed a police report and is seeking a protection order under Singapore's Protection from Harassment Act, which does not require proof of intent — only that the conduct is likely to cause distress. By mid-June, the woman's Instagram account had been deactivated. Luke and his sister have since made their own accounts private. The fabricated life she built around him survives now only in screenshots and in the unsettling knowledge that someone spent years constructing a fiction in which he was the unwilling protagonist.
In December 2025, Luke—an administrative assistant in Singapore who prefers not to use his real name—learned that photographs of him were circulating online. In these images, he appeared alongside a woman he did not know, posed as her fiancé, holding a baby they supposedly had together. Luke is single and has no children. Over the following months, more manipulated pictures emerged. Some showed him with his sister's young children, doctored so that the unknown woman appeared to be their mother. His sister's six-month-old son was among those whose images had been appropriated.
When Luke's sister tried to contact the woman and demand the images be removed, she received no response. The sister told The Straits Times that she and her family became deeply anxious about the fact that a stranger possessed photographs and videos of her children, stored on her phone, shared at will across social media. The images had the unmistakable hallmarks of artificial intelligence—details warped and distorted in ways no camera could capture. One showed Luke in a blue long-sleeved shirt holding an infant; the original photograph showed him in black, standing beside a cake. The chair behind him had been warped by the algorithm.
Weeks into this ordeal, Luke realized who was behind it. The woman was a former schoolmate he had barely spoken to in school, someone he had not seen in fifteen years. "I spoke no more than two sentences to her when we were in school," he said. The images kept multiplying—fabricated scenes of them dating, of her pregnant, of him as a new father. One caption read simply: "My boys." The psychological weight of it began to show. Luke struggled to sleep. His concentration at work deteriorated. "It is traumatising to learn that your pictures were used in such an elaborate narrative," he said.
Desperate for help, Luke's sister posted about the harassment on Threads on June 7. The post gained significant attention, accumulating more than twelve thousand likes. The woman then responded directly, telling Luke's sister that she had created the images out of love for Luke, that living in this fabricated world and receiving attention made her feel happy and good. But the response also triggered something else: other people began contacting Luke's sister. They said the woman had impersonated Luke on various online platforms over a period of years, using his photographs to build fake relationships with them. These accounts stretched back to 2017. None of the relationships had ever moved beyond the digital realm—no meetings, no phone calls, only the carefully constructed fiction of an online presence that was not his.
A clinical psychologist who reviewed the case, Carol Balhetchet, identified signs of delusional thinking in the woman's behavior. She described a profound desire for control and a forced connection with Luke. Without intervention, Balhetchet warned, the situation could continue indefinitely, potentially escalating until the woman found a way to make contact in person. Victims in such cases, she noted, sometimes internalize responsibility when things spiral.
Luke filed a police report and consulted lawyers, who advised him to seek a protection order under Singapore's Protection from Harassment Act. The law does not require proof of intent to harass—only that the conduct is likely to cause harassment, alarm, or distress. The fabricated relationship, the fake pregnancy, the misuse of family photographs: all of it would qualify. If an order is granted and served, both parties would attend court, potentially mediation. If no resolution is reached, the matter proceeds to trial. By mid-June, the woman's Instagram account had been deactivated. Attempts to reach her were unsuccessful. Luke and his sister have since made their social media accounts private, restricting access to approved followers only. The fairytale she had constructed around him exists now only in screenshots and in the memory of what it felt like to discover that someone had stolen his image and built an entire false life around it.
Citas Notables
It is traumatising to learn that your pictures were used in such an elaborate narrative.— Luke, the victim
We were very worried and concerned that this stranger has photos and videos of my children stored in her phone and was sharing it online as and when she likes.— Luke's sister
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
What strikes you most about how this woman justified what she did?
That she framed it as love. She told his sister she created the images out of affection for him, that the fantasy made her feel good. There's something almost tragic in that—she wasn't trying to harm him in her own mind. She was trying to connect with him, just in a way that had no relationship to reality.
Do you think she believed the images were real?
The psychologist suggested delusional thinking, which implies some disconnection from reality. But I'm not sure that's the whole picture. She may have known they were fake and created them anyway—a different kind of problem. Either way, she was living in a world where this narrative felt more true to her than the actual distance between them.
The impersonation going back to 2017—that's years before she started targeting Luke specifically. What does that tell us?
That this wasn't a sudden obsession. She had a pattern of using other people's images to build false relationships online. Luke was just one person in a longer history. The fact that she eventually focused on him, someone she barely knew from school, suggests the obsession deepened over time.
How does a family recover from something like this?
They've locked down their social media. They're more paranoid about what they share. But the real damage is harder to measure—the violation of having your children's images stolen and repurposed in someone else's fantasy. That doesn't go away with privacy settings.
Do you think the legal route will actually stop her?
It might create a boundary. But the psychologist's warning is important: without real help, she could find other ways. A protection order is a tool, not a cure. What she needs is someone to help her understand why she built this world in the first place.