Chapter 58 : What We Are, What We Could Be
New York, Queens – Alex's POV
I got there early, earlier than I needed to. The café was small, quiet, tucked between a bookstore and a florist—the kind of place people only found by accident. Perfect. I chose a table in the back corner, half-hidden behind a potted plant, far from the windows. Enough privacy for a real conversation, not enough to look suspicious.
My coffee sat in front of me, untouched, cooling. I kept my hands around the cup anyway—not for warmth, just to ground myself.
This wasn't a conversation I could improvise. Not after what happened yesterday. Not with May.
I exhaled slowly and scanned the room: a couple near the window, two students murmuring, the barista wiping down the counter. No one paying attention. Good.
My phone buzzed.
May: I'm here. Walking in.
A small knot tightened in my stomach—anticipation, something heavier. I straightened, rolling my shoulders back, keeping my face calm.
The door opened, the bell chimed softly, and she stepped inside.
May looked composed. Too composed. Hair neat, clothes casual but chosen with care, expression controlled—but her eyes kept searching until they found me. For a flicker of a second, her mask slipped.
I raised a hand slightly. She made her way through the tables, steps measured. When she reached the edge of the booth, I met her gaze fully.
"Hey," I said quietly. "Thanks for coming."
May slid into the seat across from me, folding her hands on the table.
"Of course," she answered. Her voice was steady, but her eyes… no. They weren't steady.
There it was again—that tension. The thing we needed to talk about before it broke something we couldn't fix.
"We need to talk about what happened," I said. "About… us. Our situation. And what we want from here on."
May didn't look away. Didn't flinch. But her breath caught—just a fraction.
"Yeah," she murmured. "I figured we couldn't just pretend it didn't happen."
"I don't want to pretend," I replied. "I just want clarity. For both of us."
Her fingers curled slightly around the cup, holding herself steady.
"Okay," she said softly. "Then let's talk."
She stared down at the table, twisting a napkin between her fingers. "I don't really know what I want going forward," she confessed. "I'm not pretending I have some clear plan. Everything's messy in my head. But… I liked what happened. I wanted it. And that scares me."
"That's fine," I said gently. "You don't need to have everything figured out today."
Her jaw clenched with guilt. "But Alex… you're with Gwen. You love Gwen. And I—" She shut her eyes for a second. "I crossed a line. I don't feel bad about wanting you, but I feel terrible for giving in to temptation, because it hurts Gwen, and because it could damage what you two have."
"You did neither," I said calmly.
May frowned, confused, almost offended.
"May," I leaned forward, voice steady, "Gwen and I have an understanding. She's the one who wanted this. She encouraged me to have a harem, and I agreed because it works for us, and we're completely honest about it. Gwen is still my first, my partner, the one I love most—always. She doesn't need anyone else. That part is just for me. She asked for it that way. She knows I can care for and be with others, and she's entirely at peace because it doesn't take anything from what she and I have. Our bond isn't threatened. We set rules together, so everything stays clear and respectful. None of it changes what she means to me."
Her eyes widened slightly, processing it—surprise, curiosity, maybe awe.
"I… didn't know Gwen felt that way," she said softly. "She always seemed so… sure of you. But I never imagined she'd be comfortable with this."
"She is," I replied gently. "Not blindly, not passively. She chose it. She pushed for it. And we only move forward when it feels right for both of us."
May let out a breath, half-laugh, half-disbelief. "That's… honestly kind of incredible. And intimidating."
I nodded.
She leaned back, fingers resting against her lips. No guilt left now—just vulnerability, curiosity, something warmer creeping in.
"So when you say I didn't hurt her…" she asked softly, "you mean it?"
"I mean it completely."
May exhaled, not quite relief, not disbelief. Her gaze drifted to the side, unfocused.
"Alex…" Her voice was quiet, careful. "I don't know what I want. Not really. I know I liked what happened. I wanted it. And I won't lie—I want it again."
A small, self-conscious smile tugged at her lips before fading. "…I'm not in love with you. I'm not pretending there's some big romantic thing here. And part of me is still…" She hesitated, grimaced. "…still tangled up over the age difference. Not because I think you're too young—I know exactly who you are. But because everything around us says I shouldn't. A part of me is afraid of getting attached, just for you to… move on someday. To realize I'm older. To leave."
I nodded, slow and steady.
"That's the thing," she continued, rubbing her thumb against her lower lip. "I'm not confused about the attraction. That part's very real." Her cheeks warmed. "I like how you make me feel. I like the way you look at me. I feel… desired. Alive. Wanted. I haven't felt that in a long time."
"But I don't want to pretend I'm something I'm not. I'm not falling for you. I'm not trying to be part of some fairy-tale romance. I don't even know if I should want more."
"You're allowed to be conflicted," I said gently. "You don't owe me certainty."
She huffed a breath, almost a laugh. "Good. Because I have none."
A pause, long enough for the tension to soften.
"But if I'm being honest…" she whispered, "the part of me that's unsure isn't as loud as the part that keeps replaying what happened between us."
Her fingers brushed the edge of the table—slow, nervous, wanting. "And that terrifies me a little. Wanting something I'm not sure I should want."
I exhaled, steady. "Then let's make sure you don't have to navigate that alone."
Her gaze lifted, questioning.
"If you're comfortable," I continued, calm and grounded, "I can call Gwen. She doesn't know about yesterday—but she'll be happy to talk. We can all sit down together. You can ask her anything. Hear exactly how she sees things, what she wants, what she expects. No pressure, no judgment. Just honesty."
May blinked—surprise, hesitation, relief flickering.
"I'm not asking you to decide anything now," I added. "But if you're going to make a choice… I want you to have all the facts. Directly from her."
She swallowed. "You'd really do that?"
"If you want it," I said softly. "Only if you're comfortable. All three of us, openly."
Her fingers stilled on the table, shoulders shifting. Uncertainty still there, but not alone.
May exhaled, nodded. "Okay… yeah. I think I want that."
I pulled out my phone, calm and deliberate.
Me: Hey. I'm at the café on 3rd, the quiet one. If you're free, can you join me? It's about the surprise I mentioned.
A moment later:
Gwen: On my way. Five minutes.
"She's coming," I said softly.
May exhaled slowly. "Okay."
I leaned back slightly, giving her space without pulling away.
"Drink?" I asked gently.
She laughed softly. "Yeah. I need one."
We waved down the server. May ordered something warm and calming; I went for a simple coffee and an iced latte for Gwen.
While waiting, the tension eased into something softer, quieter. Not the heat from yesterday, just two people catching their breath.
The drinks arrived moments later, perfectly timed. The bell above the café door chimed again, soft but distinct. Gwen stepped inside, her usual bright expression flickering with a hint of curiosity, almost caution. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, landing on our corner table.
Her steps slowed as she approached, and the moment she saw May sitting across from me, a flash of surprise crossed her features—quick, subtle, but unmistakable.
"May?" Gwen's voice was light, but there was that tiny lift of her brow, the question hanging in the air. She seemed half-surprised, half-expecting. Half-expecting that if anyone were here, it would have been someone else sitting across from me.
"Hey," I said softly, sliding the iced latte toward the empty seat between us. "Thanks for coming."
Gwen's gaze flicked between May and me, trying to place the scene, the dynamic. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips, as if she was already piecing things together—though what exactly she suspected, I couldn't tell.
May took a deep breath, her fingers tightening briefly around her cup before letting go. She lifted her gaze to Gwen.
"Gwen… there's something I need to tell you," she said quietly, almost hesitantly. "Yesterday… I slept with Alex."
Gwen blinked, her eyes flicking to me for a moment. "Wait… is that the surprise you mentioned?" she asked softly, voice calm but curious. She leaned back slightly, taking a breath. "If it is… then yeah, this definitely calls for a conversation."
May's shoulders shifted nervously, caught between relief and tension. "I… I didn't know how you'd react," she admitted quietly.
Gwen gave a small, reassuring nod, still looking at me. "It's okay. I need to hear everything, that's all. And we'll figure it out together."
"May," Gwen began gently,"Thank you for being honest. I want you to understand exactly what this means before you make any decisions."
May nodded, tense but attentive.
I spoke slowly, carefully, making sure every word landed. "The way the harem works is… structured. There are two categories: wives and concubines."
Her eyes flicked between Gwen and me, curiosity mixing with hesitation.
"Concubines," I continued, "are women I'm intimate with sexually, but the relationship stops there. It's purely physical, nothing romantic. No expectations beyond that. We both know where we stand."
Gwen added, "Wives are different. Those are women who love Alex and whom he loves in return. There's emotional connection, intimacy beyond the bedroom, and commitment. The relationship isn't purely sexual."
I nodded. "In both cases, everyone involved agrees to be exclusive with me. That's the rule: I'm the only man they're with. No exceptions. That's how we maintain trust, clarity, and respect for everyone."
May's fingers tightened around her cup. "So… if I… chose to be part of this… I'd have to agree to that?"
"Yes," Gwen said softly, leaning forward. "You'd choose your role—concubine or wife—but either way, you'd know exactly what it means. And you'd be free to say no at any time. This is only for people who accept the rules and feel comfortable in them."
I added, "The decision is entirely yours, May. No one will push you. You can choose to be a concubine, which is purely sexual—no romantic expectations, nothing beyond what we both agree on. That's the option that fits best with what you've told me so far. You could aim for something more, wifely status, which comes with emotional connection and a deeper bond—but that's entirely optional. Or you can decide not to be part of the harem at all. Either way, your choice is valid, and it won't compromise Gwen or me. This only works if you're honest about what you want and truly comfortable with it."
May exhaled slowly, trying to process it all. "I… I see. That's… a lot. I need to think about it. I don't know what I want right now."
"That's completely fine," Gwen said gently. "We're not asking for an answer today. But we want you to understand the structure, so you can decide with full knowledge. No surprises, no pressure."
I reached out subtly, letting my hand hover near hers. "Whatever you choose, May, it won't change the respect we have for you. And nothing you do here will compromise what Gwen and I have. Your choice is yours alone."
May nodded, still tense, but there was a flicker of clarity in her eyes—a sense that she finally understood the boundaries, the rules, and what it would mean for her to step into this arrangement.
For a moment, the three of us sat in quiet, letting the weight of the conversation settle and soften. Then Gwen offered a small smile, warm and disarming.
"Alright," she said lightly. "That was… a lot. How about we breathe a little?"
May let out a shaky laugh—tiny, but real. "Yeah. I think I could use that."
The atmosphere loosened. The tension that had held the table hostage began to dissolve as we drifted into lighter conversation. We talked about normal things—May's week at work, a movie Gwen wanted to see, a ridiculous bug I'd spent half the night trying to fix. Gwen teased me about being dramatic over software issues; May shook her head, amused, saying she didn't miss late-night problem solving at all.
It wasn't strained. It wasn't awkward. Surprisingly… it felt natural. Easy.
By the time our cups were empty and the café had grown a little louder around us, the heavy edge of earlier had softened into something calmer, steadier.
Eventually, we all stood, gathering our things. Outside, the late afternoon air was cool, brushing against us as the street bustled quietly.
May hugged her arms lightly, then looked at us with a small, sincere smile. "Thank you… for being honest. For not judging me. This could've gone a lot worse."
"You're doing fine," Gwen said gently. "Whatever you choose, we respect it."
I nodded. "Take your time, May. We're not rushing you. And we're not going anywhere."
She exhaled slowly, nodding once more before turning down the sidewalk at her own pace—slower, but steadier than when she'd arrived.
Gwen stepped closer to me, her hand finding mine with quiet familiarity as we watched May disappear into the flow of the street.
"Well," she murmured with a faint, wry smile, "that was… definitely a surprise."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Yeah. But I think it went the way it needed to."
We started walking, side by side, the city evening settling around us.
And like that, the scene closed—not with an answer, but with something just as important:
A beginning.