Raj To The Max (Book #1 of Spice and Soliverse)

Chapter 19

Before I knew it, it was December. The most wonderful time of the year. And no, I'm not being sarcastic. Even though I'm not Christian, I absolutely love the vibes of Christmas. I love how it's freezing cold, and we have to keep warm, stay cozy and eat hot things. I love how we watch how it's freezing outside from inside with our families and friends. I love waiting for gifts on Christmas. I love the festivities and the Christmas lights on our houses and how each and every store decorates itself in the most beautiful lights and gives all of their items a festive twist.

I missed my family and friends so much. It's been four months since I left. I can't wait to see my parents, sister, Miss Nong, Shruti, Nisha and Asifa again. And I had to make amends with Riyaj–to try and be friends again.

Ever since our breakup, I tried contacting him a dozen times but couldn't catch a hold of him. I even begged Nisha, Asifa or Shruti to try to put me on a conference call with Riyaj. But they said I had to respect Riyaj's need for space, and they didn't want to screw their friendships up with him either.

It sucks, but yeah. I felt incredibly guilty for breaking up with Riyaj, but I knew I couldn't control my feelings for Max, and that it wouldn't be fair to myself, Riyaj, or Max, for that matter, to continue dating Riyaj.

Speaking of Max... I sure was gonna miss that lad.

Funny, I came to Russia expecting a dry, lonely trip—just a stretch of intense studies and hours of being holed up in my room. I never thought I'd get a roommate, let alone a magical, hot, kind, sweet, funny, and effortlessly cool guy like Max. He's the last person I'd imagined meeting here, and somehow we ended up together. I never thought I'd be playing rugby in Russia, making friends, sneaking out for late-night snacks, or just talking for hours with someone who gets me in a way I didn't know I was missing.

And now, I was heading back home, trying to wrap my head around how much had changed in just a few months. Max's hugs, his smiles, his endless kisses, the way he'd make even the smallest moment fun or memorable—it was hard to think about leaving all that behind. I'd miss the way he'd wrap me up in his arms, make me laugh when I was feeling down, or just sit with me in the quiet. I'd miss those late-night talks, when we'd open up to each other about everything and nothing, like we had all the time in the world.

But for now, I'd have to take those memories home with me, counting down the months until I'd see him again.

I finished packing and took one last look around the room, letting the weight of everything sink in. I'd been here for four months, and at first, I thought I'd just be trapped here studying and freezing in a cold, lonely Russia. But instead, I ended up... meeting Max. And the whole thing felt surreal. Magical, even. Like I was leaving some incredible dream I'd never expected to have.

Dragging my suitcase down the hall, I finally stepped into the living room where Max was standing with his parents, all ready to drop me off at the airport. Max was grinning at me, and honestly, the sight of it made my heart do this stupid little flip. I wasn't ready to say goodbye, but I guess that didn't matter much because here we were. His mom and dad smiled, looking proud but a bit sad, like they'd gotten used to having me around. I managed a polite nod to them, trying not to seem totally awkward.

Then Max stepped forward and handed me two small, carefully wrapped gifts. His expression was... softer than usual, his eyes searching mine. It hit me harder than I expected.

"Open one after we drop you off and leave, and the other... on Christmas Day," he said, voice low but teasing, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect this was having on me.

I could feel my face heating up. "You didn't have to—"

He just smirked and shrugged, not letting me finish. "Hey, just... humor me, yeah?"

I clutched the gifts and felt like an idiot blushing like this, but I couldn't help it. The fact that he'd even thought of something like this made my heart feel like it was about to burst. Maxim Zakharov, always full of surprises.

And I was really, really going to miss him. I was going to miss everything. The way he laughed, the late-night talks, his damn rugby challenges, and the way he could make a boring, freezing city feel like a home. I wasn't ready to leave this. To leave him.

Tears threatened to spill my eyes as we suited up in our bulky winter gear and I exited the Valentinova-Zakharov household, the small yet incredibly warm and cozy place, for the last and final time. The frigid Yakutsk air sliced me through my skin, something I had miraculously gotten used to during my stay here, as I realized that unless I flew here on my own, I'd never see Yakutsk again.

Or YSOS. Or play rugby unless I did recreational rugby back home. It all felt surreal, really.

As we got in the car and drove toward the airport, the bittersweetness of it all hit me. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting that hazy morning light over the snowy streets, the city feeling as quiet as my own heart. Max sat next to me, his usual smirk replaced with something softer, almost sad. I tried to hold back the tears that threatened, hoping I didn't look as wrecked as I felt.

We reached the airport way too soon, and before I knew it, Max's parents were hugging me, Ms. Valentinova with her usual warmth, and Mr. Zakharov with a firm, almost fatherly handshake. "Safe flight, Raj. Remember, you're always welcome here," Mr. Zakharov said, his voice gentle but carrying weight.

I thanked them, really fighting to keep it together, and then it was just Max and me. He stepped closer, his eyes glistening as if he were trying to hold back too. We pulled each other into a big, warm hug, the kind of hug where you feel everything—the goodbyes, the memories, the things left unsaid. His hand rested on my back, and I was just... there, with him, no words, just us.

But, true to Max form, he leaned back and gave me a rough thump on the back, his eyes flicking over to his parents. "Take care, man," he said, adding a little smirk. We both started laughing, the tension breaking in the best way.

As I took my bag and turned to go, he called out, "Call me when you land, yeah?"

"For sure," I replied, my voice thick. A tear slipped out despite myself, and I saw him blink hard, swallowing as I watched them leave. Max gave me one last smile, which sent a mix of emotions through me as he disappeared among the crowd.

After they were gone, I found a quiet corner and pulled out the first gift he'd told me to open. Inside was a small, handmade scrapbook, filled with Polaroids of us over the past few months—our study sessions, late-night sneak outs, a shot of me awkwardly holding a rugby ball with him doubled over laughing. And on the first page, he'd written, 'Never a goodbye. Just until next time, idiot.'

I couldn't stop the smile and tears that came. Maxim Zakharov, leaving his mark on my heart in the most unexpected, unforgettable ways.