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Chapter 1 | Coming home

Isabella:

Hauling my carry on suitcase in one hand whilst tugging on Sofia's child leash with the other proves to be quite the challenge.

As we walk through the airport, I try my best to ignore the odd stares being shot in our direction at the sight of my baby sister being heaved around like a dog, but her loud cries only begin to draw more attention towards us.

If this was me as a kid, my mom would've thrown the luggage trolley at my head but the youngest sibling always seem to get away with everything.

At that thought, I eye the luggage trolley that my mom is pushing before flitting my eyes back to my baby sister.

As if being able to hear my thoughts, my mother sends me a look. "Don't you dare," she threatens and I let out an exasperated sigh, massaging my temples.

I then continue my attempt in trying to shush the loud detests coming from my little sister, but that only seems to cause Sofia to scream louder. In return, I mumble a series of curse words under my breath as I'm filled with the urge to kick the damn child all the way back to London.

You know what. That's it.

Yanking harder on the leash I speed up my pace causing Sofia to tumble backwards, she falls back and lands on her butt and I take the lead, dragging her across the linoleum floor. She has a moment of shock before beginning to cry loudly but instead of screaming at her, I cancel out my baby sisters loud wails - something, unsurprisingly, I had to do often.

Oh how I wish I was an only child again.

I've reached wits end. Having just been on a 9 hour flight with a lack of sleep, I'm starting to become delusional.

The fact I have extremely bad motion sickness and an irrational fear of travelling on airplanes, did not help to make the journey any less uncomfortable, so all that I want to do, is take a long, warm shower and sleep for the rest of eternity.

Thankfully, just when I'm about to start screaming and throwing a fit in the middle of the airport, a short, elderly lady, shouting in Spanish and waving like crazy catches my eye.

"MIJA MIJA! OVER HERE!" She moves forward, showing people out of the way mercilessly, with a wide grin plastered on her face.

I drop my suitcase and free Sofia from the wrath of her leash before running into my grandmothers arms.

As she hauls me into a strong embrace, I melt into her, inhaling her sweet, flowery scent. "Mi amor, look at you, you've grown so much!" My abuela cries, after pulling back from our hug, a huge smile playing on my lips.

It had been too long since I had last seen my grandmother and I had missed her like crazy.

My grandmother was my favourite person in the entire world. Having moved in with my family after my grandfather, Emmanuel Quintero passed away mere days after I was born, she had practically raised me all throughout childhood when both my parents had been out working late trying to make ends meet.

Growing up, we did everything together; from baking, knitting and watching telenovelas. My grandmother was the most optimistic person I have ever met and continuously barrelled through life with a huge grin on her face, not once allowing her attitude falter, not even after my abuelo had died.

She instead continued to honour his memory by telling me countless stories of my grandfather (whose surname I had actually gained as a commemoration after his death) and the immense love they had for each other.

Once my father had landed, what he claimed was his 'dream job' in London six years ago, persuading my abuela to pack her bags and move with us had been extremely hard. After refusing several times and claiming that she would be fine on her own (as she had all her friends here and couldn't bare to leave the 'cute' elderly man that lived across from us - her words not mine) we warily left her behind in the US.

Now, my mother fresh out of a divorce, I wanting a well needed fresh start and Sofia – well just about fresh out the womb, we were back 6 years later to our small town in Ohio.

Was I glad to be back? For the most part yes. If I were to be honest I was reluctant to the idea of even moving to London in the first place. This town was my childhood home, where I grew up for 10 years. The place where I knew all the neighbours and the place where my two best friends, Mia and Grace, lived and most importantly where my grandma was.

Also, unless I was willing to stay in London, in the crappy 2 bedroom estate my workaholic dad was renting after the divorce and living with his 20 year old roommate, I would choose moving back to the US in a heartbeat.

I had just completed my exams and finished secondary school and I wasn't particularly close with any of the friends I had made in London. So what did I really have to lose?

There was only one issue about the move back.

Well, I wouldn't say it was a big issue, but it was definitely something that made me feel a little nervous and caused a stab of pain in my heart every time I thought of it.

Well, when I thought of him.

Let's just say I wasn't particularly that excited to see my neighbour (and old crush - but we don't talk about that) Lucas, whom, because of his meticulous tormenting and teasing as a kid messed with my self esteem and further led to a chain of issues that fucked me up mentally, big time.

Shaking away the unwanted feeling that occurred everytime I thought of Lucas and those, said, issues, I turn back to my grandma.

My grandmother is in the midst of scooping up Sofia, who was about to make a beeline in the complete opposite direction, whilst my mother is wiping away the tears streaming down her face. My baby sister squirms in abuela's grasp but after a few moments, like everybody else, caves into her warm embrace.

"Come on, let's get home," my grandmother says, wrapping her free arm, around my shoulders.

Home.

Now that word brings the smile back to my face.

The car ride back to the house is quiet. I'm surged with this almost jittery, excited feeling as we drive through the town and down the oh so familiar streets that I have not seen in 6 years.

As we pull into our driveway I peer up at my childhood home. I'm not surprised at all to see that it looks exactly the same - minus the added porch swing at the front of the house.

I clamber our the car with a goofy smile on my face, shutting the door and going over to the trunk to pull out our suitcases.

"While you were gone I re-decorated your room," my abuela says after we finish hauling all our luggage's inside.

I quirk an eyebrow at my grandma. "How so?"

She heads towards the stairs, draping her handbag and scarf on the banister and beckons for me to follow. "Don't worry it's nothing too drastic, I just made it more mature."

Mature?

When I step into my old room, I try very hard to stifle a laugh.

Oh the room looks mature alright.

For the most part my grandma actually did a great job. The walls are now painted white instead of the bright pink it had been a couple of years ago. My single bed frame has been changed to a double and there are about two plotted plants spotting around the room. Fairy lights hang across the window ledge and there is a new lamp on the bedside table and next to the lamp is a framed picture of me and my friends.

Oh and also another lone, framed selfie of my grandmother smiling cheesily into the camera. But that isn't the funny part.

Facing my bed, there is a very big cardboard cut out of Harry Styles.

Yes, the, Harry Styles.

"Do you like it?" My grandmother asks from behind me, and I spin around to see her clasping her hands with a big grin on her face.

"Abuela, I love it," I reply with a large smile of my own, before pointing my index finger at the cardboard cut out. "Harry Styles huh."

"Yes! I know you were obsessed with that group he was in when you were younger."

I smile to myself. "Ah yes. One direction." I recall memories of screaming out to song after song by them at sleepovers with Mia and Grace when we were 9.

"One direction! That's what they were called!" My grandma nods before sighing wistfully. "That Zayn Malik was a looker wasn't he?"

I tip back my head in laughter, clutching my stomach as I giggle hysterically before pulling my dear old grandmother into a huge bear hug.

"You did an amazing job, thank you."

She pats my back. "Oh don't thank, I didn't do much except choosing the furniture, Lucas actually did all the moving and putting together for me."

"Oh." I stiffen at the mention of his name and pull back, looking down at my hands warily. "Well that was nice of him I guess."

"Okay well I better let you get unpacked and let you rest for remainder of the day," she kisses me on the cheek before turning around and leaving my room. "I'll be up in a second to bring you something to eat!"

I spin around the room once more after she leaves and snicker again at the sight of Harry Styles staring at me before grabbing my toiletries and my pjs from my suitcase and heading into the bathroom down the hall.

After I finish showering, I pad back to my room. I glance at the bedside table and see that while I was in the bathroom my grandma had brought me some food.

I pick up the sandwich and gingerly take a bite of it. The taste of tuna floods my taste buds and I remind myself that I need to eat because I haven't all day.

As I take a larger bite of the sandwich my phone lights up with a notification and I pick it up from off my bed. It's a couple messages from the girls saying that they'll be popping round tomorrow and I quickly reply before plugging my phone into the socket to charge and heading towards the window to shut the curtains.

As I am about to do so, I suddenly stop short at the sight in-front of me.

I had completely forgotten that his bedroom was right across from mine.

It doesn't look any different from how I recall it did 6 years ago, but then again I didn't really have the best chance to take a good look because I could see someone coming up the stairs and about to walk into the room and in panic, quickly tug the curtain closed.

"Dammit."

I inwardly curse myself for not looking for a little longer because I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was curious to see how he looked now.

Although I thoroughly kept in contact with Mia and Grace, I refused to talk to Lucas - but it wasn't like he made any effort to try to stay in contact with me anyways. So except for a couple mentions of him, here and there in our facetime calls over the years, I had no clue how he had turned out. I may or may not have tried to stalk him a couple times on Instagram but all his pictures were of him in football gear so there wasn't very much to see.

I send a quick prayer to the heavens, hoping that Lucas looks like an ugly troll now and that karma had hit him hard so that it would make me feel a little better about all the jabs he made at my appearance when we were kids.

Suddenly, I freeze as a thought courses through me. Now that I am back in the US, I am probably bound to see Lucas around, especially seeing as he literally lives right next door to me.

I groan at the thought and flop down on my bed face first.

I am not prepared for that at all.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Don't forget to vote if you enjoyed!

Hi everybody! Thank you for reading the first chapter of 'What You Caused'. I am so excited for this book, I can't wait for you guys to meet Lucas ;)) Anyways, thank you all for reading, lots of love – Mai x

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