It's set in Kenya, with emotion, realism, and dialogue that readers can connect to deeply.
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❤️🔥 HEART OF ICE
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The first light of dawn crept through the tin roof of their small room in Eastlands.
Brian sat at the edge of his bed, polishing his torn school shoes with cooking oil.
His mother's voice came from the kitchen, soft but tired.
> "Brian, hurry up. You'll be late for school."
She was always gentle, even when her body was failing her.
Brian smiled, a smile that could melt anyone's heart. He believed one day he'd make her proud — buy her a house far away from the noise of matatus and the smell of sewage that filled the estate.
At school, he was quiet but sharp. His teachers loved him, his classmates envied him.
He had nothing, yet he carried hope like a crown.
But that night, his mother coughed harder than usual.
Brian held her hand, fear crawling inside him.
> "Mum, I'll get medicine tomorrow. I promise."
She smiled weakly.
> "My son, you already give me life every day."
He didn't know that would be the last night she'd ever say those words.
The morning was heavy with silence.
Brian tried to wake his mother — but her body was still, eyes half open, gone.
He screamed for help, but the neighbors only peeked through their windows.
No one wanted to be involved.
No one cared.
He ran to his uncle, who had promised to help them if things ever got bad.
The man stared coldly.
> "I told you, Brian, I'm not your father. Go bury her yourself."
Brian's knees buckled. Something inside him cracked — not just from grief, but betrayal.
He begged a neighbor to lend him some money.
The man agreed — then disappeared with the little Brian had saved for medicine.
At the funeral, only four people came.
As the soil covered his mother's coffin, Brian whispered:
> "Kindness dies with her."
That day, the boy with the bright eyes became someone else.
Someone the streets of Nairobi would learn to feast.
Years later, Brian wasn't the same.
The world had carved hardness into his soul.
He now ran errands in downtown Nairobi — deals that didn't need receipts or honesty.
People called him "Blaze" because of his fiery temper.
He wore clean clothes, had money in his pocket, and eyes that trusted no one.
Every coin he earned came from sweat, lies, and survival.
He told himself, "I didn't choose this life — it chose me."
But some nights, when he sat alone watching the city lights from his balcony,
he saw a reflection of that boy with hope — and it scared him.
> "Kindness made me weak," he would mutter.
"Weakness got me hurt."
Then one day, at the bus stage in town, he saw Aisha — his childhood friend.
The one who used to bring him food when he had nothing.
She looked at him, eyes full of recognition.
> "Brian? Is that really you?"
"No," he said flatly. "Brian died long ago."
But her voice stayed in his head long after she left.
Aisha kept showing up — not out of pity, but out of belief that the old Brian was still there.
She worked with street kids, helping them find better lives.
She told him,
> "You're living the same pain you once cried about."
He laughed, but deep down, her words hit him like rain on dry ground.
One evening, he saw a young boy being beaten by a gang he once worked with.
He looked away.
But the boy's voice — crying for help — echoed the same desperation Brian once had.
He stepped in, not because he wanted to, but because something inside him wouldn't stay silent.
He saved the boy, but that decision lit a fire.
The gang saw it as betrayal.
Now, they were coming for him.
Nairobi nights are loud, but that night was quieter — like the city knew something was coming.
Brian stood on a rooftop, looking over the flashing lights, waiting.
He had a gun in his hand. Not for power — for choice.
The gang cornered him.
Their leader spat on the ground.
> "You used to be one of us. Now you play hero?"
Brian didn't move.
> "Heroes die. But cowards die every day. I'm done dying."
A shot rang out.
Then silence.
When the police arrived, they found Brian wounded but alive.
He survived, barely.
Aisha was there when he woke up.
> "You saved that boy. You saved yourself too."
He smiled weakly, for the first time in years.
> "Maybe kindness wasn't weakness after all."
The streets whispered that Blaze had changed —
but no one knew if he'd found peace…
or just learned how to live with his scars.
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Author's :
"Heart of Ice" is a story of how pain shapes us — but doesn't have to define us.
Even in the hardest city, humanity can still survive.
"He wasn't born cold — life froze him."If you want me to continue tell me I the comments