The Risk

Seventy-two hours.

Ruhi repeated the number in her head like a ticking clock. Every time she blinked, it felt like another second slipped away. The luxury skincare sector wasn’t just vast, it was cutthroat—saturated with global giants, regional brands, and endless consumer noise. A neat, safe report wasn’t going to cut it.

But Reyansh hadn’t asked for safe.

By the second night, her eyes burned from scrolling through market studies. Coffee cups littered her desk, notes piled up in messy stacks. The other interns had stopped lingering around; some even smirked when they saw her still buried in work.

“Too much ambition will kill her,” one whispered.

Maybe. But giving up wasn’t an option.

It was the third evening when the breakthrough came. Ruhi had been analyzing consumer reviews when she noticed a strange trend: young buyers in India weren’t drawn to international luxury creams for their ingredients—they craved identity. The aspirational feeling of the brand. And none of the competitors had tapped into this cultural craving fully.

Her pen froze mid-air.

This wasn’t just a small note—it was the heart of the strategy. If OE positioned the acquisition not as “luxury skincare,” but as “luxury identity,” the impact could be revolutionary.

But presenting it meant rewriting her entire report in the final twelve hours. Risky. Dangerous. Almost reckless.

Her mind whispered: Play it safe. Submit the data-heavy report you already built.

But her heart said: Safe won’t survive under Reyansh Oberoi.

She chose risk.

---

The next morning, Ruhi stood in Reyansh’s office, her report binder in hand. Her pulse raced, but her chin was high.

Reyansh took the file without a word, flipping through the pages with that unreadable expression. His silence was worse than any insult.

Finally, he stopped. His eyes lifted to hers.

“You scrapped the traditional model.”

“Yes.” Her throat felt dry. “Because it wouldn’t work. Not for India. Not now.”

“You rebuilt the entire framework in one night?” His tone wasn’t impressed—it was sharp, like a blade testing her courage.

She nodded once. “I’d rather give you something bold and wrong than something safe and useless.”

For a long moment, silence thickened between them. Ruhi’s chest rose and fell quickly, but she didn’t look away.

Reyansh leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. His gaze was locked on her, cold yet disturbingly intent.

“You gamble, Ms. Khanna.”

Her lips curved in a faint smile despite the storm in her chest. “Only when the game is worth it.”

Something flickered in his eyes—amusement, curiosity, maybe even approval. But it was gone in an instant.

He closed the file.

“This report… is either visionary or reckless. If the board tears it apart, you’ll take the fall.”

Ruhi swallowed hard. “I’ll take it.”

Reyansh stood, walking toward the window. His silhouette against the skyline was sharp, powerful.

“You’re either very brave, Ms. Khanna… or very stupid.”

“Maybe both,” she said quietly.

He turned, and for the first time, his smirk wasn’t mocking. It was… intrigued.

“Let’s see which one.”

---

When Ruhi left his office, her legs felt weak, but her heart was blazing.

What she didn’t see was Reyansh still at the window, the report in his hand. His thumb rested on the section where she’d rewritten the strategy.

He should have dismissed it. Should have torn it apart like he did with every flawed proposal.

But instead, for the first time in years, Reyansh Oberoi felt the rare thrill of unpredictability.

And it came from an intern named Ruhi Khanna.

---

To be continued ~~

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