raw : he closed his eyes n remembered that face of d girl in his school life dream - her sharp eye n smiling face. then remembered d female voice of that temple's vision → all those emotions suddenly overwhelmed him but he still felt a hope

[this is a part of dream i have described in my other chapter → He had been younger then, still a school student — a boy too young to carry such a vision, yet old enough never to forget it. Not naïve exactly, but uncomplicated enough to be taken by images that made no immediate sense. He dreamed of an unknown young lady, or of someone who felt like a girl to him: a simple figure seated close beside his right foot, just above the knee. Her clothing was simple, not royal — its fabric carrying earthy shades of light and plainness, muted browns that suggested daily work rather than ceremony. No jewels. No crown. Nothing adorned her, only cloth — except for the way her presence filled the space.

And her smile — Her smile was the thing that lodged into him. It wasn’t strange for its mystery, nor was it a theatrical or enigmatic smile. It was the searing kind of recognition born of familiarity — as if he had always known it, as if she had been searching her whole life for a single lost thing, and now it had arrived in that one expression. The look in her eyes — steady, deep — told him, in the way only dreams can: I have found you at last.

The dream itself was simple, ordinary even. Yet that look — that smile — carved itself into him so sharply that it could never be forgotten. He woke from it with the aftertaste of salt on his tongue and a new tenderness he could not name.]

[temple's vision (also described in other chapter) → It began with a sound: an unknown word, soft and faint yet loud enough to carry depth — holding care, fragile, almost playful. A voice, childish yet impossibly familiar. Though he couldn’t understand what it meant, it didn’t feel like a name being called. but felt like home calling. As if the past itself had hidden in the shadows, waiting to be found in a game of hide and seek he didn’t know he was still playing.

Then came the shift. The air wasn’t the present anymore. He saw — not with imagination, but with a memory his body seemed to remember before his mind could catch up. A hand, carefully, pressing against the white creamy pillar. His chest tightened. He could feel the muscle memory of that touch, even though the hand wasn’t his. The weight, the smoothness, the certainty of contact — all of it surged into him like a rhythm long forgotten.

For a moment, it was like standing inside someone else’s eyes. Watching through another’s gaze, yet feeling it as his own. The vision wasn’t blurred or dreamlike; it was sharp, conscious, undeniable. As though the stone itself had decided to lend him its silence, to let him remember what it had held for centuries.

Then, as he turned slightly to the right, he almost saw the one behind that unknown word — the figure of a young lady. Her appearance felt strangely familiar, though he couldn’t place where from. She stood just behind the pillar, back pressed to the stone, face hidden, playful as a child who wanted to be found. Not a ghost, not an invention, but a presence — as though the place itself had reached across years to remind him of what it still held.]

[3 bigger para + emotional tone (that can break reader's heart) , u can use those info in gist so reader can relate]