What’s the quietest thing you’ve ever heard that felt loud?

I was in a courtroom last week, and the judge paused before saying 'proceed.' That silence—just the hum of the AC, the faint creak of a wooden bench—felt like it held everything. Not a word, not a breath, but somehow heavier than any testimony. I keep thinking about how some silences aren’t empty. They’re full of what someone didn’t say, or can’t say. What’s the quietest thing you’ve ever heard that actually rang in your bones?