Read Someone Else's War: A Novel of Russia and America Page 20

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  Olivia broke down on every single run that first brutal month of working out with Suslova, dreadful, weeping rages of pain and frustration. Suslova said nothing at such times, rarely even looked at her—for she had stripped Olivia of her defenses, laying her wounds raw and open—just quietly laid a hand on her shoulder, letting her purge the bitterness from her soul. Then, when Olivia was able to, they would continue. But there came a day when Olivia didn’t break down, not because she had inured herself to the pain and the frustration, but because she was actually able to do what Suslova had set her to. Which was what she had set herself to do. The exhausted, startled look she gave Suslova on that day was pure triumph, exultant and incandescent.