Could it be? That I was brought to Marbella for a reason?
I only knew it by reputation: expensive, flashy, out of reach.
But I was running low on runway.
My brain said: Lower your burn rate.
So I looked for a room instead of a flat.
It humbled me.
Arrival in Marbella
I didn’t just see Spain.
I saw Capital. Tunisian-leaning, sun-washed, coastal wealth.
Even the bus station felt premium.
She picked me up at the bus station, both of us excited, both about to imagine a shared home.
In the car she told me how she started renting her place, gave me tips about Marbella. She was Cuban, warm, familiar, like a Filipino Tita. She gave me tips on how to dress, where to go, how to blend in with the elite. We talked about life, womanhood, possibilities. “Preparation meets opportunity”, I said
I saw the apartment. 3rd floor. Pool view. Palm trees. It felt like an upgrade. A place to execute my next move. She even packed me lunch when I left.
I thought she was ready to accept me.
I thought she had already accepted me.
I thought the deal was closed.
But when I left, said thank you and goodbye..
I felt something shift.
The shift
Later that night I saw her posting the room again in other groups…
still searching, still shopping.
Maybe she didn’t like me at all.
Maybe she recalculated the price and felt unsure.
Still, I messaged her that night, reassured her I’m committing in case it wasn’t clear to her.
The next day, as expected, she said she found “someone better for her situation.”
She didn’t choose me after all.
Good ~ because I needed the reminder:
I don’t chase rooms. I build empires.
I don’t wait to be accepted ~ I create a life where I accept myself first.
Marbella was not a loss. It was a data point.
It was a preview of the standard I am building toward.
A trailer of my future wealth.
A taste, not rejection.
She found someone “better”.
One day, landlords can’t choose me. They will compete for me.
One day, I won’t ask for the room, I will buy the building.
And that isn’t someday when I am worthy.
That’s as soon as I decide it’s mine.
Because this wasn’t a closed door.
It was a mirror, showing me what I am capable of if I move like the woman I want to become.
Romanticise it.. yes.
Feel it.. yes.
But let softness sharpen into power.
I’ll return to Marbella.
Not hoping to be chosen,
but choosing the terms.
