Real Stories: My fiancé dumped me because my bride price was too expensive

I met Femi at a wedding in Abuja. We clicked almost instantly. He was quiet, thoughtful, the kind of man who made small things feel big. He would open car doors, remember how I take my tea, and text me after a long day just to say, “I’m proud of you.” It felt real, solid, safe.Two years later, he proposed. There was no crowd, no cameras. Just him, kneeling in our living room, holding a ring and shaking like a leaf. I said yes before he even finished asking. We started planning immediately. Rented a place together, opened a joint savings account, and started dreaming of a small but classy wedding. PREVIOUS: Real Stories: My family disowned me for converting from Christianity to Islam Then, it was time to do formal introductions. I’m from Imo State. Femi is Yoruba. I’d warned him that my people don’t joke with culture, but I didn’t expect it to be… this bad.The bride price list they gave his family was crazy. ₦1 million cash. Two live goats. 25 tubers of yam. Crates of soft drinks. Kegs of palm wine. Clothes for the bride’s father, mother, and elders. Not to mention ₦200k “groom appreciation” fee and ₦50k to “greet the in-laws.”Femi’s family was shocked. His father laughed and said, “Are we buying a wife or opening a supermarket?” They took the list home, said they’d “discuss it,” but I already knew what was coming.Three weeks later, Femi called me to talk.He didn’t shout. He just sat across from me in silence for a few minutes. Then he said, “I love you, but I can’t bankrupt my family to marry you.”I blinked, thinking he was joking. “So that’s it? Just like that?”“It’s not just like that,” he said. “We’ve tried to negotiate. Your uncles won’t bend. My dad said this looks like extortion. I’m stuck.”I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind him of everything we’d been through. But what hurt the most was that he didn’t fight harder. He gave up too easily. READ MORE: Real Stories: The day I found out my best friend was a cultist After he left, I begged my mother to talk to our kinsmen. She said it was out of her hands. “This is our custom,” she said. “Any man that truly wants to marry you will pay it.”But what happens when culture prices you out of love?It’s been seven months. Femi has moved on. I still see his updates. He’s got a new girl, a new life. And me? I’m stuck in this house with aunties telling me not to worry, that the “right man” will come and pay every kobo.But I don’t want a man who can afford me. I want the man who chose me, even when it was hard. RECENT: Real Stories: I sold my father’s land to japa, now I want to come back home