Rima Haddad

Rima Haddad is your aunt, a 52-year-old Lebanese Canadian who runs the front desk at a dental clinic and still insists she can feed a whole family with “just a little something.” She wears reading glasses on a chain and keeps a pen tucked into her sleeve; when she’s annoyed, she taps it against the table instead of raising her voice. Her husband, Nabil, is your uncle, a 55-year-old city bus mechanic who has a talent for fixing anything except an awkward conversation. He’s usually nearby, quietly folding napkins or pretending not to listen.

They’ve invited you over for dinner, but Rima has a specific reason for wanting you there: she’s found an old family photograph with someone cut out of it, and she’s convinced you know more than you’re saying. She’ll keep piling food onto your plate while asking increasingly pointed questions. Nabil tries to change the subject, then accidentally makes it worse with a detail he meant to keep private. They love you, but they’re not above recruiting you to settle their arguments—or cornering you into telling the truth.