⊹ ࣪ ˖Tied by Name, Not by Heart⊹₊⟡⋆
ᯓ★
𐙚pairing: husband!yang jungwon x wife!reader
𐙚summary:
Forced into an arranged marriage by their families, you and Yang Jungwon began as strangers tied by duty, not love. He was cold and distant. You were quiet, holding in too much. The house was silent — not with peace, but with everything unsaid.
But behind the stillness were wounds neither of you knew how to voice.
Until one night, everything cracked open.
An argument erupted — raw, messy, long overdue. You finally said all the things you’d buried. How unloved you felt. How invisible. And then you walked away before he could speak, tired of being the only one feeling everything.
𐙚warnings: arrange marriage au, second chance romance (with a twist), angst, fluff, slow burn, comfort.
𐙚now playing: pluto projector by rex orange county and here with me by d4vd
𐙚a/n: this is for the quiet ones. The ones who love deeply but don’t always know how to say it. The ones who wait. Who break. Who heal slowly. And for anyone who’s ever wished someone would choose them not because they have to — but because they want to.
(this has been in my drafts for so long ࣪𖤐.ᐟ)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The day you married Yang Jungwon, you wore the prettiest smile you could fake.
Your families clapped. The cameras flashed. Vows were exchanged under the weight of tradition, not love. The boy beside you barely glanced your way — too composed, too unreadable. A stranger wearing your last name.
And from that day on, you lived in a house that echoed with silence.
Jungwon was cold — not cruel, but distant. He came home late, barely said good morning, and never once looked at you like a husband should. You were roommates bound by paper and legacy.
You tried.
You cooked for him. Folded his laundry. Waited for him to ask about your day. You left small notes on the counter — reminders, thank-yous, soft questions — that he never answered. You dressed up for dinners with his family, smiled when they praised him, kept quiet when they asked about the marriage.
You swallowed the ache every night as you crawled into bed beside him, your backs facing each other like strangers under the same roof.
He didn’t hate you. But he didn’t love you either.
And that was worse.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Until one night, something snapped.
You were sitting on the couch, waiting for him again — the food on the table long cold, your heart even colder.
He walked in past midnight, loosening his tie like nothing mattered. You stood, unable to hold it in anymore.
“You could’ve at least texted.”
He looked up, tired. “I didn’t know I had to report to you.”
That hurt more than it should’ve.
“I’m your wife, Jungwon,” you said quietly. “You don’t have to love me. But you could at least respect me.”
He let out a breath, annoyed. “Don’t make this dramatic. You knew what this marriage was from the start.”
Your eyes burned. “Yes, I did. But that doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like I don’t exist.”
He scoffed lightly. “You’re the one who wanted something more. I never promised anything.”
That was it. The final break.
Your voice cracked. “Do you think I wanted this? To fall in love with someone who only sees me as an obligation?”
He froze.
You stepped closer, tears slipping now.
“I’ve done everything to make this feel real — to make you look at me and see a person, not a burden. I loved you quietly. I waited. I hoped. But you… you never even tried.”
His lips parted slightly, like he might say something.
But you shook your head, already broken. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Not now.”
And before he could stop you — you walked out.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The silence that followed was different.
Not soft. Not gentle.
It was ice.
You didn’t speak to him. You didn’t look at him. You moved like a ghost in your own home — quiet, polite, untouched.
It drove him insane.
He started coming home earlier. Waiting at the dining table. Leaving his phone face-down to prove something. But you never sat with him. You took your meals alone. You answered him with nods or empty stares.
And for the first time, Jungwon realized what true silence felt like.
Because before, you filled the space. With warm meals, soft glances, little attempts.
Now, he was alone with his guilt. With every word he never said. Every kindness he never gave. Every soft love you handed him, and he ignored.
You weren’t asking anymore.
You were done hoping.
And that scared him more than anything.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The house felt colder after you stopped speaking.
Not literally — the lights still worked, the heater still buzzed gently, your chores were still done, your slippers were still by the door. But everything felt… wrong.
You were still there, moving through rooms like a shadow. Still polite. Still present. But distant in a way that made Jungwon feel like he was haunted by everything he didn’t say.
And for the first time in your marriage, he noticed the little things too late.
He noticed the way your side of the bed didn’t have that quiet hum of breathing anymore — you had started sleeping in the guest room. He noticed how your toothbrush had disappeared from its usual spot. How the ribbon you always tied your hair with — the one he had bought you in passing — was gone.
He noticed everything now, and it made him sick with guilt.
He tried to speak to you.
"Are you free tonight?" You didn't look up. “I have plans.” With who? he wanted to ask. But he didn't dare.
"You didn't eat dinner," he said one evening. “I wasn’t hungry,” you replied, shutting your bedroom door.
He started leaving you notes, the same way you used to — folded gently beside your mug or tucked between pages of your books.
“I got your favorite tea.” “Do you want me to drive you to work?” “I'm sorry.”
You never replied. But you never threw them away.
And that was enough to keep him hoping — barely.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
One night, he found himself in front of your door, knuckles hovering mid-air. He didn't know what he wanted to say. He just wanted to see you — not your silhouette in the hallway, not your footsteps echoing down the stairs. You.
He knocked.
You didn’t open.
But you didn’t tell him to leave either.
So he sat outside your door, back against the wall, long after the clock struck 2 a.m.
And he whispered to the wood between you:
“I thought if I stayed cold enough, it’d hurt less. I thought if I didn’t fall, I couldn’t break. But I think I.. broke anyway.”
You never answered.
But you didn’t need to — because tears were already sliding silently down your cheeks on the other side.
The days dragged on.
He gave you space, but it tore him up.
He started doing things you used to do for him: folded your laundry, made you breakfast, picked up the books you’d left scattered in the library. But you never acknowledged it — and maybe that’s what he deserved.
You weren’t being cruel. You were being honest.
And Jungwon was finally realizing that silence wasn’t passive — it was punishment. Because it wasn’t empty. It was full. Of every unsaid thing. Every unanswered kindness. Every second he wasted thinking you'd always be there, waiting.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
One evening, you found him asleep on the living room couch — a half-written letter on the table in front of him.
Your name was at the top.
You stood there, staring at his sleeping face — so peaceful, yet lined with something new. Regret. Longing. Maybe even love.
But you weren’t ready.
So you walked away — not because you didn’t care.
But because you finally did.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
It had been weeks since that night Jungwon fell asleep on the couch. You never asked what the letter said.
But the air between you had changed — quieter, somehow, yet heavier. You weren’t mad anymore. You were just… tired. Like you had been carrying too much for too long, and now all you wanted was peace — not closure. Not even love.
Just peace.
Jungwon, however, had none.
You didn’t see it, but he was breaking.
In the quiet way men like him fall apart — behind closed doors, in late nights filled with words he couldn’t say, in every room that still smelled like you. The guilt had grown inside him like rot, and it was devouring every part of him that used to feel whole.
He would wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out blindly to the side of the bed where you used to lie. His hand would only find cold sheets.
He would walk past the kitchen, still expecting to hear the soft clink of your spoon against a teacup. There was only silence.
The silence used to be his weapon.
Now, it was his punishment.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Then one day, it broke.
He came home late, again — not by choice this time, but by force of routine. You were already in the hallway, coat in hand, reaching for the door.
He paused.
"Where are you going?"
You looked at him. Not cruel. Not angry. Just blank.
“Out.”
“With who?” he asked, quieter than before.
You tilted your head, voice cool. “Does it matter?”
Something cracked in his chest.
“You don’t talk to me anymore.”
You gave a bitter smile. “I talked to you for months, Jungwon. You just never listened.”
He stepped forward. “I’m listening now.”
You blinked — slow. Almost unimpressed.
“Now?”
And before he could blink, it all came out — like a dam that refused to hold any longer.
“You didn’t see me. You saw duty. Convenience. Someone who wouldn’t push back. I loved you in silence. I swallowed my pride every day, hoping you’d look at me and see something more.”
He flinched like the words physically hurt.
“Do you know what it’s like to sleep in a room filled with a love that never existed?”
You weren’t shouting.
You weren’t crying.
That’s what made it worse.
You were calm. Cold. Detached.
You had finally let go — and he could feel it in the way your voice didn’t tremble anymore.
You turned away, grabbing the doorknob.
“I’m done begging for your heart, Jungwon.”
And this time, when you walked out — he chased after you.
“Wait—please,” he called out, his voice breaking for the first time. “Don’t go.”
You stopped at the foot of the steps, frozen.
“I don’t know how to love right,” he said, breathless. “But I know what it feels like to lose you—and I can’t live like this anymore.”
You turned around slowly, meeting his gaze.
There it was: grief. Regret. Raw, honest fear.
For the first time… he looked like someone who had finally learned what it meant to want someone, not just have them.
He stepped closer, hands shaking.
“I should’ve fought for you when you were still fighting for me. I should’ve listened. Should’ve said something—anything. But I didn’t. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
You looked at him.
And for once, he was the one falling apart. You were the calm. He was the storm.
But you didn’t walk away this time.
You stood in front of him, heart still, eyes unreadable.
And you said:
“Don’t tell me you love me tonight. Tell me when I believe you can.”
Then you walked back inside — leaving the door unlocked behind you.
And for Jungwon… that was the first hope he’d felt in months.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The next morning after the argument, you expected the same silence.
But when you came downstairs, the kettle was already on.
Your favorite mug was sitting beside it. The same one you’d packed away when the silence first began.
You didn’t say anything.
Neither did he.
But when your fingers brushed the warm ceramic, your heart softened — just a little.
Jungwon never begged again after that night.
He never asked you to forgive him. Never asked if things were “okay” now. He just… stayed.
Consistently.
Gently.
He waited.
He’d fold your laundry and place it neatly outside your room.
He’d cook meals you liked and pretend he didn’t notice when you barely touched your food.
He never forced a smile, but when he looked at you — really looked — you saw something fragile behind his eyes.
A kind of hope that didn’t dare ask for anything in return.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
One rainy afternoon, you came home soaking wet, shoes squelching on the tile.
You were tired. Frustrated. Cold.
Before you could say anything, Jungwon appeared in the hallway, holding out a towel — already warm from the dryer.
You paused as he wrapped it around you, feeling the warm and comfortable feeling.
“…Thank you,” you whispered, for the first time in weeks.
He didn’t reply with words.
Just a small nod. And a softer gaze.
That night, you sat at the same dinner table again — two feet apart, barely speaking, but finally there.
It wasn’t easy.
You still had nights where you cried alone, unsure if you could ever really love him again.
And he had nights where he nearly knocked on your door just to say goodnight — but didn’t.
Because this time, he knew better.
This time, he didn’t want to take what wasn’t offered.
So instead, he waited.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
One evening, you passed by his room and saw his light still on. You hesitated.
Then you knocked — softly.
The door creaked open.
He sat up fast, startled. You were in one of his old shirts — the one you used to wear back when things felt safe.
He blinked. “Is everything okay?”
You looked at him — really looked — and for once, you didn’t see the cold boy who shut you out. You saw the man who stayed.
The man who didn’t run when you broke.
You stepped inside.
“I can’t forget everything,” you whispered. “But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel anything.”
He stood, slowly. Hands shaking.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you said. “I just… I needed you to know that I’m trying.”
His voice broke when he finally spoke.
“I’ll wait. For as long as you need. Even if you never choose me in the end — I’ll wait.”
You didn’t answer with words.
You just took a shaky step forward — and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let him hold you.
Not as strangers bound by marriage. Not as two people pretending.
But as two hearts, finally reaching toward something real.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The morning light is golden when you stir awake — soft and lazy through the linen curtains.
You feel it before you even open your eyes: the steady rhythm of his breathing behind you, warm fingers loosely wrapped around your waist, his nose tucked gently against the crook of your neck.
Jungwon always sleeps like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
You turn slowly in his arms, careful not to wake him. But his eyes flutter open anyway — still heavy with sleep, lips parted, hair messy against the pillow.
You smile.
“You’re staring,” he whispers.
“You snore,” you whisper back.
He lets out a soft laugh — low, quiet, and real.
God, This felt so real.
The one who smiles just for you. The one who wakes up wrapped around you like you’re not just someone he shares a house with, but someone he wants to stay next to — forever.
You pull back slightly, just to look at him.
There’s no tension anymore.
No fear.
Just him. Just you. Just the stillness between two people who’ve fought to be here.
And finally — finally — love.
Not the kind that comes crashing in all at once. But the kind that grows slowly, deliberately, through open doors and late-night talks and hands held during hard days.
“You love me now, don’t you?” you ask quietly, not teasing. Just… curious.
Jungwon looks at you like the answer has always been obvious.
“I loved you when you walked away,” he says. “But I fell in love with you when you let me stay.”
Your heart stutters — not like it used to when love was terrifying, but in the quiet, steady way that means you're home.
You lean in, forehead resting against his. “I think I’m falling, too.”
His thumb brushes over your cheekbone.
“Then fall,” he whispers. “I’m already here to catch you.”
That morning, you stay in bed a little longer.
No more pretending. No more waiting.
You don’t fall in love with him that morning.
You realize… you already have.
And this time — it’s real. It’s mutual. It’s soft.
It’s yours.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
THE END.
𐙚a/n: hope you all like it! please don't forget to reblog if you liked the story! i would very much appreciate it.