Welcome to Eden is a wild drama. Perfect town? Not really. Dark secrets lurk everywhere. Residents juggle relationships, jobs and their own issues. As story unfolds, you get pulled into mystery and suspense. All-star cast, complex characters. If you enjoy a good mystery, this show is a must-see.

Meet the characters from Welcome to Eden

Zoa

Zoa is that electric, impossible-to-ignore leader who makes you want to follow her even when your brain is screaming “no” — she’s charismatic, unsettling, and strangely maternal in a way that gives you whiplash. She says big idealistic things and then, surprise, she’ll make cold calculations five minutes later like it’s nothing. Honestly, she’s a walking contradiction: warm as sunlight in the morning, stone-cold by evening, and probably owns way too many plants. There’s a ritualistic vibe to her decisions (she likes candles? maybe sea salt? I’m not sure), and you get the sense she’s always three steps ahead in a game everyone else is still learning.

Judith

Judith feels like the old guard who remembers when Eden was a dream and also when it started to crack, so she’s equal parts stubborn and nostalgic. She’s practical to a fault — the kind who will patch a roof at dawn and chew you out for wasting water at noon — but there’s a soft, almost guilty tenderness under the sarcasm. Don’t be fooled by the stern face; she’ll defend her people fiercely, sometimes in ways that make you go “okay, that was dramatic.” Also she has a secret habit of humming to herself that she pretends no one notices (we do).

Gabi

Gabi is the sunshine with edges, bubbly and full of life but absolutely not push-over material — she laughs loud and then turns around and does something shockingly brave. She’s fiercely loyal in a chaotic, messy way, and you can tell she’s the one people go to when they need a hug or a reckless idea (sometimes both at once). There’s a tiny streak of stubbornness that makes her delightfully unpredictable; she’ll comfort you and then set you straight, often in the same breath. Little detail: she collects seashells that don’t match and insists each one has a ridiculous name.

África

África is the quiet fire — reserved, observant, and deep, like someone who reads a room and files away everything for later, sometimes forever. She doesn’t waste words, which makes her occasional outbursts hit harder than a thunderclap, and you always feel like she’s carrying a secret or two (or five). Pragmatic and principled, she’ll call out hypocrisy without drama, which is honestly refreshing and terrifying for the rest of the cast. Also, weirdly, she has this obsession with old vinyl records that doesn’t make sense until she randomly plays one and everything makes sense for a minute.

Charly

Charly is the wildcard with a soft center — funny, a bit chaotic, always trying to lighten a mood even when the world is burning (classic coping mechanism). He’s brave in tiny daily ways and then ridiculously reckless when the stakes are bigger — you can’t tell if that’s admirable or a terrible idea most of the time. He’s loyal to his crew like glue and will pull off something ludicrous to help a friend, which is equal parts heartwarming and facepalm-inducing. And yes, he collects mismatched socks, some of which might be lucky (don’t ask how that works).

Ibón

Ibón is the quiet brainy type who notices details everyone else misses — the sort of person who can jury-rig a solution with three twine pieces and a shoelace. He’s analytical but not cold; there’s a weirdly charming awkwardness to him, like he’s thinking three steps ahead and just forgot to smile. He’s loyal in a practical way: he’ll keep you alive with plumbing and patience, and then awkwardly insist you take his last granola bar. Also, he has a fondness for terrible puns that he thinks are peak comedy, and sometimes, against all odds, they land.

Aldo

Aldo is the tough-as-nails protector who talks less and carries more — physical, blunt, and kind of terrifying when he’s serious, but also the first to step in when someone needs help. He’s complicated: macho on the surface, but with surprising emotional knots that show up in small gestures (makes coffee for people, will cry at sunsets, don’t tell him I said that). He’s dependable in a way that feels like an anchor and also like a boomerang — he comes back to the same people, always. Little quirk: he’s suspiciously good at knitting scarves? I have no idea how that fits but it’s canon in my head.

Mayka

Mayka is the reactor — intense, dramatic, and impossible to ignore; she wears her feelings on her sleeve and on her face, which makes her utterly human and occasionally exhausting. She’s passionate and raw, the type to speak first and fix the fallout later, which is both thrilling and problematic. Beneath the theatrical bits there’s real courage and a refusal to be erased, like she won’t let anyone tell her story for her. Also she hoards old Polaroids and keeps them in a shoebox labeled “evidence,” which is either adorable or suspicious.

Astrid

Astrid is quietly strange and artistically inclined, like someone who paints storms and then smiles and calls them cheerful, which is exactly her vibe. She’s enigmatic, thoughtful, and a bit unpredictable; you never quite know when she’ll drop a bizarre but beautiful idea that actually solves everything. Protective but aloof, she’s loyal on her own terms and has a talent for seeing patterns that others miss. And small fact: she drinks coffee cold on purpose and swears it’s how real clarity works (maybe she’s right).

Erick

Erick plays the rational, rule-checking role—practical, skeptical, and occasionally the voice of reason when chaos is the default setting. He’s the kind of person who catalogues evidence and asks inconvenient questions, which makes him invaluable and also kind of annoying at dinner parties. Underneath the methodical exterior there’s a nervous kid who wants things to make sense, and sometimes that makes him unexpectedly brave. Also, he can do terrible impressions of movie villains and insists that gives him strategic advantage in tense moments (it doesn’t, but still).

Bel

Bel is the sweet, hopeful one who flirts with naivety but is far more resilient than people give her credit for — like cotton candy with a steel core, honestly. She’s open-hearted, curious, and prone to sudden bursts of optimism that infect everyone around her (sometimes annoyingly so, sometimes wonderfully). She learns fast when shoved into chaos and turns softer moments into quiet rebellions; you want her around even if she makes you sigh. Quirk: she names every stray animal she sees and speaks to them like they’re long-lost cousins.