We celebrate Galen's birthday at an upscale Gastropub hidden deep in the Welsh countryside.

The waitlist for this place is long, and rightly so. The chef won something like MasterChef, and the food is a mixture of nouveau cuisine with the homeliness of a Welsh kitchen.

We all dress up, each of us putting on our best outfits and happy faces to celebrate Galen's eighteenth.

"You’re an adult, I can’t believe how fast the time has flown by," Mum says after our initial toast of Happy Birthday.

We're each given a flute of champagne, even me and Rhys who are still underage.

"Yeah, but it's another year before you get rid of me. I deferred uni, remember? I get to laze about home."

"Are you gonna travel?" Rhys asks, fiddling with the rows of cutlery around his plate.

"No, I'm going to stay home. I want to travel after university. This twelve months is for me to focus on the band."

One. One more year, then he'll leave. But I'll still be here.

Will he stay in contact?

I doubt it. Why would he when he’s off living life and I’m just a schoolgirl?

Max leans back in his chair and looks at Mum.

"I can remember when we were eighteen," he says, a contemplative look on his face.

She laughs. "Yeah. Eighteen was the year that you left me and went off and did your own thing. Eighteen was the year my heart shattered into pieces because I'd lost my best friend."

Max snorts in disbelief. "You had your girlfriends, you travelled around Europe, and you were always out somewhere living it up."

Mum rolls her eyes, but her lips are smiling. "Why’d you think I did that? Idiot."

Max looks at Mum completely confused and shrugs as if to say 'I don't know.'

"I was utterly miserable when you left to go to university on the other side of the country, but I didn't want you to know that. I wanted you to see all the fun I was having and think you were missing out. Not on the fun, on me."

Max turns his chair and takes both her hands in his, before bringing them to his lips for a kiss. He looks directly into her eyes, lowers his voice and says, "God, you have no bloody clue how much I missed you."

It's a private moment meant for them. We shouldn't be witnessing it.

Rhys coughs loudly. "I think it's time to order."

I know what he's doing. He can't bear to hear how long Mum has been in love with Max. Because if that's the case, did she ever love Dad at all?

I stare at the gilt-edged menu in front of me. My eyes flick over the top, and I notice Galen fiddling with the edge of his.

What began as a celebration and the clinking of champagne glasses is turning into something awkward, when it should be about Gal, nothing else.

Max and Mum are oblivious to it and lost in one another, while the rest of us sit here with our chests carved open, and our vulnerable hearts exposed, just waiting for one or the other to prod inside and make them bleed.

The more I think about it though, the more I'm confused why Galen seems upset. Rhys and I have the right, but he never lost out. We did.

I wonder if it's not that he's upset, he just feels awkward for us. Or is it he can see the similarity? Soon he will shatter my heart much the same way his father did to my mother.

Like father, like son.

I scan the menu to find the most expensive option, and then I announce almost regally, "I think I'm going to have the lobster thermidor."

Mum's head snaps my way.

"You what?"

"Lobster thermidor," I say with a serious face, nodding at the menu before me and not making eye contact.

"Firstly, you don't like seafood."

I suppress a grin as she lets go of Max's hands and checks the menu.

"And secondly," she says, eyeballing me over the top of it. "I wasn't planning to take out another mortgage to pay for your meal."

That sets Rhys off. "I think I'll have one too."

Galen catches on. "Yeah, looks delicious to me."

Max's eyes nearly bug out of his head. He's spotted the price too.

"Come on, guys. You can't be serious. Choose something else."

All three of us look at each other.

All three of us suppress our grins.

We all agree to order something different, none of us truly interested in the lobster thermidor, and the meal continues the way it started, filled with light-hearted banter, much the way I imagine most families would be when celebrating a milestone birthday.

When we get back to the house, Rhys disappears as normal, and Max and Mum head into the living room. Before I can make my way upstairs, Galen clears his throat behind me.

"Want to watch a film in the TV room?"

I stare at his face. He doesn't look any older than yesterday, but I can feel the gulf between us stretching and getting bigger.

I bought him a gift, but I haven't given it to him yet.

"Sure I'll meet you there."

Once in my bedroom, I lay flat on my belly and pull out the lockbox from under my bed. It's where I store things that I don't want to be found, and I keep the little silver key on a chain around my neck. It's not that I think anyone would snoop; it just helps me feel like there's a piece of this house that's mine and mine alone.

I quickly unlock the box and pull out Galen's gift.

I feel nervous about giving this to him. It's more personal than tickets to a gig or a generic gift like aftershave.

When I walk into the TV room, Galen is setting up the DVD. He looks at me over his shoulder, wiggling the box of an action film he's chosen with a sneaky grin on his face.

"You weren't here, so I got to pick."

I can see he's surprised when I nod without complaint and take a seat on the sofa. He quickly presses play and comes to sit next to me.

While the trailers play, I place the small velvet pouch on his knee.

His eyes flick to mine, and I can't help but return the smile that spreads across his face because that smile is only for me.

"Happy Birthday, Galen."

He fiddles with the tied strings before opening them and stretching the top of the pouch wide before tipping the contents into his palm.

With shaky fingers, he picks up the item and brings it closer to his face.

It's a solid silver plectrum engraved with the words 'Ad Libitum.'

He used Latin to tell me that my label said ‘Forbidden’, so my gift to him is a music term which means—

“At one's will," he whispers reverently, his voice catching on the last word.

"Yes, but in musical terms, it means to perform at one's will," I explain.

I wonder if he gets it.

I wonder if he realises it means more than him going off and performing or chasing his dreams.

It means he can choose.

'Me,' my heart whispers. 'Choose me.'

Galen gave me the title forbidden, but I'm telling him to use his free will.

Our eyes lock. Perfect lawn green to bright blue.

"Thanks, Fflur," he murmurs throatily. "I will treasure it forever."