Lindsay Lohan shares Christmas selfie with Kuwaiti husband

The actress recently starred in her comeback movie for Netflix called “Falling for Christmas.” (AFP)
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Updated 25 December 2022
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Lindsay Lohan shares Christmas selfie with Kuwaiti husband

DUBAI: US actress Lindsay Lohan shared a rare photograph with her Kuwaiti husband Bader Shammas on Christmas Eve.

Lohan shared a pair of selfies on Instagram, one of which features the couple posing in front of a white Christmas tree. Shammas is not a regular fixture on Lohan’s Instagram feed, which is littered with posts praising her closest friends, as well as promotional posts for her latest film.

The actress, who recently starred in her comeback movie for Netflix called “Falling for Christmas,” lives with Shammas in Dubai.

In July, the “Mean Girls” star shared a picture of her and Shammas, a financier, with her 10.9 million followers and wrote: “I am the luckiest woman in the world. You found me and knew that I wanted to find happiness and grace, all at the same time. I am stunned that you are my husband. My life and my everything. Every woman should feel like this every day,” the singer and songwriter wrote.

Shammas, whose Instagram is on private mode, is a financier who previously worked as an associate at BNP Paribas Wealth Management up until 2017, according to Elle magazine. Educated in the US, he reportedly holds a degree in Mechanical Engineering from the University of South Florida and a Bachelor of Science in Finance degree from John H. Sykes College of Business, which is connected with the University of Tampa.


Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

Updated 25 January 2026
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Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

DUBAI: At this year’s Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in Dubai, a panel on Saturday titled “The Monster Next Door,” moderated by Shane McGinley, posed a question for the ages: Are villains born or made?

Novelists Annabel Kantaria, Louise Candlish and Ruth Ware, joined by a packed audience, dissected the craft of creating morally ambiguous characters alongside the social science that informs them. “A pure villain,” said Ware, “is chilling to construct … The remorselessness unsettles you — How do you build someone who cannot imagine another’s pain?”

Candlish described character-building as a gradual process of “layering over several edits” until a figure feels human. “You have to build the flesh on the bone or they will remain caricatures,” she added.

The debate moved quickly to the nature-versus-nurture debate. “Do you believe that people are born evil?” asked McGinley, prompting both laughter and loud sighs.

Candlish confessed a failed attempt to write a Tom Ripley–style antihero: “I spent the whole time coming up with reasons why my characters do this … It wasn’t really their fault,” she said, explaining that even when she tried to excise conscience, her character kept expressing “moral scruples” and second thoughts.

“You inevitably fold parts of yourself into your creations,” said Ware. “The spark that makes it come alive is often the little bit of you in there.”

Panelists likened character creation to Frankenstein work. “You take the irritating habit of that co‑worker, the weird couple you saw in a restaurant, bits of friends and enemies, and stitch them together,” said Ware.

But real-world perspective reframed the literary exercise in stark terms. Kantaria recounted teaching a prison writing class and quoting the facility director, who told her, “It’s not full of monsters. It’s normal people who made a bad decision.” She recalled being struck that many inmates were “one silly decision” away from the crimes that put them behind bars. “Any one of us could be one decision away from jail time,” she said.

The panelists also turned to scientific findings through the discussion. Ware cited infant studies showing babies prefer helpers to hinderers in puppet shows, suggesting “we are born with a natural propensity to be attracted to good.”

Candlish referenced twin studies and research on narrative: People who can form a coherent story about trauma often “have much better outcomes,” she explained.

“Both things will end up being super, super neat,” she said of genes and upbringing, before turning to the redemptive power of storytelling: “When we can make sense of what happened to us, we cope better.”

As the session closed, McGinley steered the panel away from tidy answers. Villainy, the authors agreed, is rarely the product of an immutable core; more often, it is assembled from ordinary impulses, missteps and circumstances. For writers like Kantaria, Candlish and Ware, the task is not to excuse cruelty but “to understand the fragile architecture that holds it together,” and to ask readers to inhabit uncomfortable but necessary perspectives.