The picture

 Kyakyawa looked stunning on TV, mysterious, dark skinned Fulani. In full African headgear of the southern women and her trademark "gelle", veil. 

She was reading a statement in her strongly accented English, unapologetic, strong, charismatic. In any other country she would be a leader. Not that she didn't think she was now. 

Today was not the time for if she were a man comparisons as much as Duniya wanted to make it.

She looked like a woman in full control and able and she was a much as any human could be. 

She had stopped being referred to as someone's wife or someone's mother.  And yet she was not Duniya's anything.

At least not publicly. They were friends. Except now there was that picture out there on the internet that would derail everything. 

She smelt her before she saw her. Or rather she felt her. Had it always been this way? Kyakyawa's presence in a room always felt like static electricity on her skin. 

Duniya, she smiled at her. Reaching out and pulling her into her embrace. Public, strong, unashamed. Duniya hugged her back resisting the urge to kiss her cheek. 

I'm so sorry about this she began. 

Do you always start with the unpleasant Kyakyawa asked? Smiling worriedly into her eyes. 

It is good to see you again Kyakyawa added. 

It always good to see you Duniya breathed. Here I go again she thinks to herself. It was so hard for her not to succumb to this person's womanliness. She felt like everything to her. 

Stop fangirling, and act your mind. 

Can you come to mine for dinner? Do you have plans? 

There was a time Duniya would have died to be asked that by Kyakyawa. Who was she kidding, she was dying now. 

Sure, where are you staying? The family house? 

Kyakyawa frowned, no she said quietly. I am staying at a friend's. 

A friend's, jealousy what bitter, hateful feeling engulfed her. 

A woman friend? Duniya asked, as transparent as oil on paper. 

Yes Kyakyawa said. A woman and a friend. 

Would you not like to come? Duniya's mind went straight to the gutter. With that her resolve and any anger she may have felt.

Yes, Duniya replied. I would very much like to come. 

Good, Kyakyawa said decisively. Come with me. 

Duniya followed behind her entourage, inhaling the scent and excitement around Kyakyawa. Her star was on the rise. Everyone around her could feel it. She was being courted and the public loved her. 

Where does that leave me, the little voice in Duniya asked. 

It leaves me with today, she said loudly enough for the others to turn and stare. 

As she walked out of the building she saw a black sedan waiting in the front entrance, engine running. It could only be Kyakyawa. 

She walked smartly round the passenger side, opened the door, sat down and was beginning to say thank you for waiting when she realised it was not Kyakyawa but someone other person she did not know. 

Hello! Sorry! Am I in the wrong car? Duniya asked embarrassed. 

It depends the woman said not upset nor surprised. Is this Kyakyawa's car? Duniya asked?

Does Kyakyawa own a car the lady responded and laughed a rich warm sultry laugh at her own seeming joke. 

Oh no Duniya thought. As her libido gave a jump. Not another one.