Evil MC's NTR Harem

Mario exhaled slowly and leaned against one of the benches, his usual easy confidence stripped away.

Ross folded his arms and leaned back slightly against the lockers, watching him closely.

"Alright," he said calmly. "We're alone. Talk to me."

Mario rubbed the back of his neck, as if unsure how to begin.

"I wasn't just here to watch the game today," he said finally.

"I mean, yeah, you dropped 120 points like it was nothing, and everyone's losing their minds, but that's not why I came."

Ross's brows lifted slightly. He had expected as much.

"I figured," he said.

Mario's expression darkened with hesitation.

He paced a few steps, then stopped and faced Ross directly.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "Something I should've told you a long time ago. I didn't because... I thought maybe you'd never need to know. Maybe I can still fix it. Maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe it would never come up."

Ross stayed silent, giving him space.

Mario's voice lowered. "But now I don't know what to do and perhaps you're the only person who could help me."

There was a long pause.

Ross studied him. "Alright. Then say it."

"Okay... just hear me out first, alright?" Mario said, his voice already tight with emotion.

"I need you to be patient with me, Ross. What I'm about to say might sound weird, or... pathetic, I don't know. But I honestly don't know what to do anymore."

He shook his head and lowered his face into his hands.

His fingers trembled slightly, and his breathing became uneven.

He wasn't just distressed—he was unraveling.

All the weight he'd been carrying in silence was finally starting to spill out, and the damn was cracking.

Ross didn't rush him. He stood nearby, quietly watching, giving his old friend space.

But when he saw Mario's shoulders shaking ever so slightly, he stepped closer.

"Hey," Ross said gently. "You're nearly forty, man. Don't cry on me now. We've been through worse together, haven't we?"

He offered a half-smile and lightly patted Mario on the shoulder.

"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. You've got me now. If it's something I can handle, I will—no hesitation. Just say the word."

Mario didn't respond, so Ross continued, trying to lighten the mood, even just a little.

"Let me guess… money problems? You picked up a gambling habit? Creditors banging on your door? Listen, if it's money, I've got you. No questions asked. No interest, no stress. Pay me back whenever. Or don't pay me back. I really don't care. At this point in my life, money's just printed paper lying around the house."

That actually made Mario lift his head, just a little.

His eyes were red, and though the pain hadn't faded, the kindness in Ross's voice seemed to dull the sharpest edges of it.

"It's not money," Mario said softly. "And no, I'm not gambling."

Ross quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, then if it's not about money… gotta be a woman thing, right?" He crossed his arms and leaned back against a nearby locker.

"You having a side fling? Some mistress causing trouble? Blackmail? Love triangle? Scandal?"

Mario gave a dry chuckle—a real laugh this time, even if it was weak.

"No, no. Nothing like that," he said, shaking his head. "I'd never cheat on my wife. You know how I feel about her."

Ross nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"But…" Mario hesitated, his smile fading. "It's close."

Ross's brow furrowed. "Close?"

Mario sighed deeply and sat down on one of the benches.

He ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying to delay the words that were inevitably going to come out.

"My wife wants a baby, Ross."

Ross blinked, waiting for more. "Okay… and?"

Mario looked up at him, tired and defeated. "And I can't give her one."

Ross stared at him.

Mario paused, then finally said it: "I'm impotent."

The word hit the air like a stone dropped in still water.

Ross was silent.

"I've been tested. We've tried treatments. Hormones. IVF. We even traveled to some obscure clinic in Europe that claimed it could 'restore vitality through magnetic balance' or some shit," Mario muttered with a bitter chuckle.

"I've done everything. We did everything. And nothing worked."

Ross slowly walked over and sat beside him. The energy in the room shifted—less like two friends joking around, more like two men caught in the heaviness of something real.

"I see," Ross said quietly. "How long have you known?"

"Years," Mario whispered. "But it didn't start hurting until she told me that she wanted to have a baby. Until she said she wanted to try again."

He let out a shaky breath.

"She's been so kind about it. So understanding. But I see the way she looks at babies. I see how she touches her stomach when she thinks I'm not watching. I know she's thinking about what it would be like. To feel life growing inside her. To hear a baby cry in the house. To hold something that's ours."

Ross said nothing. He just listened. Sometimes, silence was louder than words.

"And the worst part?" Mario continued. "I feel like less of a man. Like I failed her. Like I was born broken, and now I've brought that brokenness into our marriage."

Ross slowly turned his head to look at him. "You're not broken, Mario. And you didn't fail anyone. Biology's not what makes you a man."

Mario gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Try telling that to the part of me that can't give the woman I love the one thing she's always wanted."

Ross leaned back against the lockers, thinking.

"What about IUI?" Ross asked gently, his tone more serious now. "You've tried that, right?"

Mario nodded with a bitter laugh. "Done everything. Multiple rounds. Hormone therapy. Supplements. Even acupuncture and some traditional stuff her aunt swore by. All of it failed." He rubbed his face in frustration, his voice trembling hard.