SWEETY LOVE

CHAPTER4

(The Sweetest Delay)

The driver glanced through the rearview mirror, smoothly shifted gears, and began tailing the quad bike, which had already turned into the streets of Kinondoni, heading toward an unknown destination. Inside the car, Eliana remained dead silent, but inside her heart, a chaotic storm raged. These were emotions she tried to deny under the guise of duty, but they were now pulling her back with even greater force.

They continued to tail Victor, never losing him for a single second on the road. Grace sat beside her, looking at her with a heavy heart, knowing very well that the President’s daughter was no longer focused on government work—but on the confusing rhythms of a sudden, dangerous love.

As they approached the beaches of Kunduchi, Victor's quad bike turned into the gates of a famous, highly exclusive resort facing the Indian Ocean. Eliana ducked down quickly to avoid being seen, then whispered to the driver, "Park in a good spot where we won't be noticed."

Within moments, they stepped out carefully. Wearing dark sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats to conceal their identities, they walked with light steps toward the beach area, watching from a distance. And that was when Eliana saw it.

Victor was in the ocean water, laughing loudly as he splashed around with Hafsa, the very same girl from the bike. They were throwing water at each other, joking, and then they shared a playful, intimate hug as the ocean waves crashed gently against their bodies. Afterward, they walked up to the shore and laid down on a large beach lounge chair, spreading out a big towel. They laid side by side as Victor gently adjusted Hafsa’s sunglasses and traced playful patterns on her bare back with his finger—both of them laughing as though the entire world belonged to them alone.

Eliana stood frozen like a statue. Her heart turned to ice. Her lips pressed tight, locked by a painful grip. A strange, raging heat rushed through her body—a mixture of total confusion and deep heartbreak. She wanted to march right down there, tear Hafsa away by her hair, slap her, and cry out to Victor in front of everyone... but she couldn't.

She drew a long breath, forcing herself to look away. But her eyes were already swimming with unspeakable pain. For a few seconds, she felt as though the world had stopped completely—everything went silent except the heavy, aching beats of her own heart. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shake Victor and demand, *"Why are you doing this?"*

But she held back.

Her mind reminded her that she was the daughter of the President. Personal emotions could not be mixed with the honor of the first family. The dignity of the nation could not be weighed down by foolish heartaches. If she caused a scene there, tomorrow's headlines would scream: *"President's Daughter Storms Beach to Fight Over a Man."* That was unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

She turned around abruptly and said, "Let’s go back to the State House," her voice low but carrying absolute command.

Grace looked at her with pure sympathy, but said nothing. They returned to the car, and the silent journey back to the State House began. When Eliana entered the royal mansion, she ignored the greetings of the guards and staff. She climbed the stairs slowly to the second floor, entered her bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Then, she threw herself onto the bed.

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Burying her face into the mattress, she pulled a pillow over her head as if hiding from the entire world. Inside her breaking heart, she whispered in agony, *“Why did I fall for someone who doesn't even know I exist?”*

But no answer came, only a heavy, crushing silence that dominated her large, luxurious room as her heart began to break in secret.

By exactly seven in the evening, inside the prestigious walls of the quiet State House, a polite knock came at Eliana's door. The double knock was followed by the warm voice of her mother, Mrs. Yolanda—a woman of profound grace, wisdom, and the dignified composure of the First Lady.

"Eliana... my child, open up. Mother wants to talk to you for a moment."

Eliana was still lying face down on the bed, her eyes staring blankly over the blanket she had wrapped herself in. She hadn't touched her phone or even swallowed a single glass of water since she had locked herself in. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to stand up slowly to open the door.

Her mother stepped inside gracefully, her eyes searching her beautiful daughter’s face with deep sympathy. In a soft, gentle tone, she said, "I know you are lost in your thoughts... but we have a guest in the private living room. Mr. Ademola, the son of the Nigerian Ambassador, has arrived... he came to say hello. It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to come out and greet him for just a few minutes."

Eliana's expression instantly changed, her eyes flashing with pure irritation.

"Ademola again, Mother? Every single day it's Ademola, Ademola. Mother... it is not mandatory for every single guest to see me. Men are not national development projects."

Mrs. Yolanda let out a refined, elegant laugh. "I am not telling you to marry him today, Eliana. I simply asked you to come and say hello, not exchange wedding vows. And besides, your father is there. It wouldn't look right for a guest of his stature to be welcomed by all of us except you. Please, my child, do this for me."

Eliana hesitated. Her eyes locked onto her mother for a long moment. This wasn't the first time her parents had pushed her toward Ademola—a exceptionally handsome young man with a refined vocabulary, who knew exactly how to speak to everyone with ultimate nobility and respect.