Chapter 492 - 79: Don’t Touch Me

"I'm not going to ask my husband here to show him off to you all like some prize I won," Catherine snapped, trying to regain her dignity.

"Can someone translate for me?" one of the girls jokes. "I don't speak sugar, baby."

"It means she's married to some 60-year-old man, and she doesn't want us to see," snickered another.

"Poor guy," laughed another. "Sure, he can dress her up, but we all know what she's like on the inside. He must be pretty desperate for someone young." 

Catherine felt her blood ringing in her ears, and her heart hammered in her c.h.e.s.t. She knew it didn't matter what her classmates thought, but she hated to hear them talk about Sean that way.

"How about you all mind your own business?" she snapped. "Last I checked, none of you were my parents, okay?"

"Come on," wheedled a girl. "Don't be like that. We just want to see him. Honestly, I'm not even judging you. If some rich old man wanted to marry me and buy me pretty things, I'd do it. Uni seems like too much work anyway."

Catherine gripped her glass tighter and tighter until she became worried she'd crush the damaged cup in her hands. Slowly she released her fingers and took a deep breath. She didn't want to admit that these petty, cruel girls could still get under her skin—but they were. What was the point in having a new life if everyone continued to judge her? She wanted to be free from the judgmental labels of the past, but instead, she was falling into new ones.

"My marriage is none of your business," she snapped.

"Oh, don't be like that," snickered one. "There's nothing wrong with middle-aged men. I've always fancied a dad bod."

"Shut up, Susan," laughed her friend.

"Is he a silver fox, Catherine?" giggled another girl.

"That's enough," Sophia said coolly. "Let's talk about something else. Who else is already excited for all the freshers' parties and events at their unis?"

Catherine smiled gratefully at her friend.

"Why are you defending her, Sophia?" asked one of the girls. "Since when was she your friend?"

"Why don't you girls all go get another drink?" Catherine suggested. "Better than my fist down your throat, hmm?" 

The girls just looked at her and laughed. Her cheeks grew hot, and she looked away. In her last life, she'd been able to control them with just a threat. What had changed? Was it her new style? Her marriage? Why weren't they afraid of her? What had suddenly given them the power?

A few of the boys sauntered over, carrying a pint in each hand and packets of crisps between their teeth. They smelled strongly of Jagermeister and cheap spirits, and their eyes looked slightly glazed—they'd clearly been doing shots at the bar.

"Hey, what's going on here?" one asked, slurring around the crisps in his teeth.

"Come on, come on," said another. "No bad vibes here. We're about to graduate—we should be happy and celebrating."

"Yeah," echoed another. "Leave all beef in the past."

"What's your problem?" snapped one of the girls. "Didn't she kick you in the balls a year ago, Lucas? Why are you defending her now? Just because she's hot?" 

"Yeah," said another. "She was so possessive of Marco, and then as soon as she finished high school, she kicked him to the curb and married some rich old man."

"We have a right to be curious," Madison's friend sneered.

The guys exchanged glances and started to retreat—none of them wanted to argue with the girls, and Catherine didn't expect them to defend her. She had bullied them mercilessly for the last three years, and she was married—there was nothing in it for them.

"Anyway," said one of the girls, emboldened by the alcohol she'd been drinking. "Let's see that ring." 

"Yeah, pass it around," laughed her friend.

"No," Catherine said. "I'm not taking off my wedding ring." 

A hand closed around her wrist and fingers. Though Catherine knew it was the soft, greedy hand of one of her classmates, a part of her mind imagined it as Marco's iron grip. Without thinking, she grabbed the girl's arm and twisted it around until the girl let out a small yelp like an injured dog.

"Don't touch her," screeched another girl.

A sharp pain stung at the back of her skull, and she realized someone was pulling her hair. Without turning to look first, she whirled around and slapped the girl square across the face.

"Don't touch me," she screamed.

"Oh my god, she's going crazy," shouted one of the girls.

"Why did she have to come here and ruin our good time?" wailed another.

"She's just a bully," sniffed another. "I'm going to ask the bartender to throw her out. She tormented us in high school—there's no reason for her to ruin our last time out together." 

"No, let's take this into our own hands," said one of the girls, clearly drunker than the others.

"Don't touch me," Catherine shouted. She grabbed a half-empty beer bottle from the table and smashed it onto the varnished wood service. The crash of class silenced the bar, and they all stared at her in horror and shock.

"She's really gone crazy," one of the guys whispered.

"Yeah, but it's kind of hot, isn't it?" whispered another.

"Since this is the last time we're going to be seeing each other, I want to remind you all who I am," she said. "I thought graduation was supposed to be a time to look to the future. I thought it was supposed to be an opportunity to change, to become better. But you're clearly all still obsessed with the past. So fine—do whatever you want. But don't talk about me. Don't spread lazy lies about me. Just leave me alone." 

"She's really losing it," snickered a girl.

"She's terrifying, though," said another.

"Come on, let's all calm down," Sophia said, raising her hands in a peace gesture. "We've all been drinking, and it's a night to let off steam, but we're all still classmates. We're not enemies here."

No one dared to laugh at or argue with Sophia, and the students began to spread to different areas of the bar. Some went to try their luck on the broken old pinball machines in the corner, and others went outside to smoke cigarettes and talk. Still, others returned to the bar to do more rounds of shots. Only a few remained at the table, watching Catherine.