After Ten Years of Helping You Win Her, I Got Engaged in Paris

My fingers trembled as I adjusted the position of the last tattoo design, the deep blue ink shimmering under the lights.

"Fuck, why am I so nervous?" I muttered under my breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

This was my first time showcasing my tattoo artwork at such a formal event. Those carefully crafted designs—from phoenixes symbolizing rebirth to mandala flowers representing healing—each one carried my understanding of art and my perception of life.

Today's charity art exhibition wasn't just about raising funds for the hospital; it was my chance to prove that tattoos were more than just symbols of rebellion.

My phone buzzed.

"Harper, your work will blow everyone away. I'll definitely be there."

Mason's text made me smile involuntarily. Ten years, and he always knew what to say when I needed it most.

Even now, when he was preparing to head into the operating room to save lives, he still remembered to send me encouragement.

'If only you could really see me,' I responded silently in my mind, then quickly texted back: "Thanks. Focus on your work, saving lives comes first."

At 2 PM, the staff began their final preparations.

Standing in front of my display, looking at these works that were about to reveal my inner world, I felt like my heart was about to burst from my chest.

These designs weren't just art—they were the crystallization of all my emotions over the years, including those feelings I had never expressed to Mason.

The exhibition officially began.

Crowds started flowing into the hall—doctors, nurses, hospital staff, and some community residents. I watched people stopping at various displays, my heart both excited and nervous.

"Wow, these designs are really special."

"Tattoos can be this artistic?"

"Look at this one, it's like telling a story."

Hearing these comments, I felt warmth flooding my heart. Maybe I had been underestimating people's acceptance of tattoo art all along.

"Harper!"

I spun around to see Mason striding toward me. His hair was slightly disheveled, but his tired face wore an excited smile.

"You made it!" I couldn't help but run toward him, almost hugging him, but stopped myself at the last moment. "How was the surgery?"

"Successful," he said, catching his breath. "Sorry I'm late. But I said I'd come, and I always keep my word."

His words made my heart feel like it was melting. This was Mason—no matter how busy with work, he never forgot to support me.

"Let me see your work." He turned to my display, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Just then, a blonde woman approached our booth. She wore a bright blue doctor's coat with a cute cartoon pin on her collar.

"These designs are beautiful," she said, her voice gentle and sincere. "They have a healing power."

I was about to thank her, but suddenly noticed Mason's expression had completely changed.

His gaze locked onto this stranger, with a kind of focus and fascination I had never seen before. His mouth slightly agape, as if struck by something.

"Yes..." his voice trembled slightly, "very beautiful."

But he wasn't looking at my artwork—he was looking at this woman.

I felt a sharp pain in my chest. In ten years, I had seen Mason tired, excited, focused, but I had never seen him gaze at someone like this.

"I'm Avery, the new pediatric doctor," she introduced herself to us. "Are you the creator of these works? You're really talented."

"Harper," I struggled to stay calm, "thank you for the compliment."

But Mason had completely stopped listening to our conversation. He just stood there, looking at Avery like a teenager seeing a goddess for the first time.

"Mason?" I called softly.

"Huh?" He finally snapped back to reality, his face slightly flushed. "Sorry, I... I'm Mason, surgeon."

He extended his hand to shake hands with Avery, his movements somewhat clumsy.

"Nice to meet you," Avery smiled and shook his hand. "I heard your surgical skills are excellent."

"You've heard of me?" Mason's voice carried undisguised pride and surprise.

Standing between them, I felt like I was invisible. This was my art exhibition, my work, my moment, but Mason's entire attention was on this newly appeared female doctor.

"I should check out the other displays," Avery said. "Harper, your work is really amazing. Mason, nice meeting you."

After she left, Mason still stared at her retreating figure.

"She... she's really special, isn't she?" He turned to me, his eyes still sparkling with that earlier light.

I couldn't help but say, "Mason, this is my art exhibition."

"Of course, of course!" he said quickly. "Your work is really amazing, Harper. I'm proud of you. But..."

He paused, his gaze drifting toward where Avery had disappeared.

"But what?"

"Harper," he turned to me, his face showing an expression I had never seen before—a kind of urgent, almost desperate need. "Could you help me get to know that doctor? I've never felt like this before."

I felt the world stop spinning at that moment.

Ten years of friendship, ten years of support, ten years of secret love—all became absurdly laughable in this instant. He stood in front of me, asking me to help him pursue another woman, completely unaware of what this meant to me.

"Harper?" Seeing my lack of response, he looked somewhat anxious. "Would you? I know this sounds strange, but... I really need your help. She seemed to really like your work."

I forced myself to smile, even though it felt like my facial muscles were twitching.

"Of course," I said, my voice sounding like it came from far away. "We're friends, right?"

"Great!" He excitedly grabbed my shoulders. "I knew you'd understand. You always understand me."

Yes, I always understand you. Understand enough to give up my own happiness for yours.

The exhibition continued, people kept praising my work, but I could no longer hear them. I mechanically smiled, mechanically answered questions, mechanically watched as Mason repeatedly glanced in Avery's direction.

When he actually went over to chat with her, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

They talked so engagedly. Mason smiled so brilliantly, so relaxed, completely unlike his usual tired appearance after work. Avery was laughing too, her smile warm and genuine.

They looked so perfect together. Two doctors, with common professional ideals, common topics, a common world.

And I was just a tattoo artist.

After the exhibition ended, the hall gradually quieted down. Volunteers began cleaning up, and other artists were packing their works.

I stood alone at my display, numbly packing up my designs. Each piece had once carried my hopes; now they looked like just some colored papers.

'Ten years of friendship changed with just one look,' I thought bitterly.

As I bent down to reach for a design that had fallen to the floor, I suddenly felt someone watching me.

I straightened up and looked around. There weren't many people left in the hall, but through the floor-to-ceiling windows across the way, I could see lights in the photography studio.

A man stood by the window, camera in hand, watching me intently.

When our eyes met, he didn't look away, but slowly lowered his camera—it wasn't curiosity or voyeurism, but a deep, appreciative gaze.

This stranger looked at me with a kind of seriousness, as if he was really seeing me, not looking through me at something else.

We stared at each other through the window for several seconds, then he raised his hand and waved gently.

I was stunned for a moment, then raised my hand in response.