Read Chapter 21: — WHAT DUTY COSTS

The argument came during a safety review.

A manager praised Graham’s career: decades of international service, difficult projects delivered under impossible conditions, teams built across continents.

Daniel heard the admiration and suddenly became furious.

That evening he confronted Graham outside the tunnel office.

“Do you ever regret it?”

Graham knew immediately what he meant.

“Yes.”

“Enough to have chosen differently?”

Silence.

Daniel laughed bitterly. “There it is.”

Graham leaned against the railing.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s worse.”

“It’s the truth.”

Graham did not defend himself with noble language.

“I believed the work mattered. I still believe it. Roads, railways, water, power—people build their lives on things somebody has to construct. But I used that truth to excuse choices that were not inevitable.”

Daniel said nothing.

“I told myself your mother understood the job. I told myself there would be another leave, another project finish, another chance. Then I was angry she left. Pride made absence easier. Work made pride look respectable.”

The words hit Daniel harder than an apology.

Because they were not asking to erase anything.

“Duty can become selfish,” Graham said, “if you only ever choose the duty that lets you avoid the people who can hurt you.”

Daniel looked toward the tunnel mouth, where floodlights cut a white wedge into darkness.

He thought of himself missing meals, ignoring his mother’s calls and treating rest as weakness.

The resemblance between them went deeper than posture.

That frightened him.