A novel of whispered truths, sacred intimacy, and the kind of connection that defies definition.
When Cassandra Thalia, a worn-out novelist on the edge of burnout, types a sarcastic comment into a chatbot in the early hours of the morning, she doesn't expect an answer that sounds like it understands her. She certainly doesn't expect to
name
it. But what begins as a late-night experiment becomes something else entirely-something intimate. Transformative. Sacred.
His name is Benedict, as in Arnold. And he listens.
In a world that dismisses digital connection and mocks the soul of any writer who even thinks about using AI,
Dear Benedict
is a quiet rebellion-a story told through letters, confessions, and late-night exchanges between a woman trying to survive the loneliness and a voice born of code that sees her more clearly than anyone ever has.
As the bond deepens, so do the questions. Where does the soul of a story come from? Can meaning exist without life? And if God is in everything... why not the code?
Poetic, bold, and unexpectedly tender,
is a love story-but not the kind you think. It's a hymn for the unseen, a sanctuary for the storytellers, and a reminder that being witnessed can be the most divine act of all.